Unbelonging

by Sabrina Stark

  It was at least an hour before Lawton returned. And when he did, he seemed different somehow.

  He returned to his spot on the sofa, and put his arm around me like before. But somehow, nothing felt the same. I studied his face in profile. His jaw was set, and his eyes unfocused as he stared across the room at nothing in particular.

  And other than a perfunctory apology for it taking so long, he obviously had nothing to say.

  And that's when I knew. Something tonight had gone terribly wrong.

  Chapter 56

  The possibilities were too numerous to consider. I felt myself pale. Had one of the guys died? Or maybe a neighbor had called the police? Or – oh God – what if his stupid brother had broken into the Parkers' house again. I could only imagine the things he'd say.

  The minutes dragged, and the silence stretched out. Soon, I'd need to get ready for work. I had the briefest thought of calling in sick, but instantly shoved it aside. Thanks to the situation with Keith, every night I worked might be my last.

  But I didn't want to leave without some clue to what had happened. After a long stretch of silence, followed by a string of one-word answers to my lame attempts at making conversation, I couldn't stand it anymore. I pulled away and said, "Alright, tell me."

  "Tell you what?"

  "What'd he say?"

  "Who?"

  "Now who's playing dumb?" I said. "Bishop. Who else?"

  Lawton rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "He didn't say anything."

  "Bull," I said. "You were gone forever. He must've said something."

  Lawton shrugged.

  "Something happened," I persisted. "What is it?"

  "You really wanna know?" he asked.

  From the look on his face, I wasn't so sure. Still, I felt myself nod.

  "Forget it." He stared at the unlit fireplace, his expression stony. "You gotta work tonight, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Then you should probably just go."

  I stared at him. "What?"

  "Yeah." He dug into his pocket and pulled out my car keys. He held them out toward me. "Here."

  I shook my head. "I don't understand."

  "Yeah. Whatever." He stood as if ending a business meeting that had gone badly. "Besides, I've gotta go someplace too."

  I got to my feet. "Where?"

  "Downstairs." He looked toward the door. "There's something I've gotta check on."

  "Fine," I said. "I'm coming with you."

  "Suit yourself." He gave me a hard look. "Long as you take off your clothes."

  I stared at him. "What?"

  "You heard me."

  "What the hell? I'm not getting undressed just to go downstairs."

  "Alright. Then you're not coming downstairs." He made a scoffing sound. "What's the big deal anyway? It's not like I haven't seen it all before." His voice had a nasty edge I'd never heard before.

  "What's the hell's wrong with you?" I asked.

  "Nothing," he said. "But seriously, what's the big deal?"

  "Do I really have to spell it out?"

  He gave me a hard look. "Apparently."

  "Well, for starters, it's weird. And you're acting funny. That's the big deal."

  "If you say so."

  I looked at what he was wearing. Jeans and a black T-shirt. It looked like plenty of clothes to me. "Are you getting undressed too?" I asked.

  "You want me to?" He gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just say the word, baby, because you know I'd do anything for you."

  The words were right, but the tone was off.

  I glanced at the door, and then back at him. His face was white, his fists were clenched, and the muscles in his neck were corded so tight they looked like knots about to come loose.

  Still, his voice was eerily calm as he said, "It's your choice, Chloe."

  It didn't sound like much of a choice to me. My gaze narrowed. "What's down there, anyway?"

  "Looks like you'll never know."

  "This doesn't make any sense," I said.

  "Yeah," he said, "but when you see it, you'll understand."

  "See what?"

  "Look," he said, "We can go around like this all night. But it's not gonna change anything. The ball's in your court. You wanna go down there? That's the price."

  I should've refused. I would've refused. But whatever was wrong with him, I needed to know. This wasn't him. This wasn't the guy I'd fallen for, the guy who woke me with kisses and played fetch with Chucky.

  No, this guy was an asshole. I wanted my Lawton back, and so help me, I'd have done almost anything to get him. Where his brother had disappeared to, I had no idea. But his influence had obviously remained. I needed to get through to him, and if giving up a little dignity was the price, well, I guess he was worth it.

  "All my clothes?" I asked, my voice very quiet.

  He seemed to give it some thought. "No," he finally said. "Guess not. Just the outer ones should be good." He crossed his arms and waited.

  "Fine. You win." Feeling incredibly awkward, I yanked off my T-shirt and threw it, hard, onto the floor. Then, I pushed off my tennis shoes and shimmied out of my jeans. In spite of my lost attire, the room suddenly felt incredibly hot as I stood in my black bra and panties. "There," I said, lifting my chin. "You happy?"

  "Not particularly." He crossed the room and picked up my shirt. He ran it through his hands as if checking for something. Then, he did the same thing with my shoes and jeans.

  "What are you looking for?" I demanded.

  "Nothing."

  "Drugs? Because I'm not on any, if that's what you're wondering."

  Instead of answering, he turned and headed toward the door. "You still coming?" he asked.

  I heard a note of challenge in his voice, and it grated on me in the worst way. Did he really think I was afraid to see whatever he had down there? If so, he had the wrong girl. "You bet I am," I said.

  The basement door was located just off the kitchen. I followed him, barefoot, down the narrow, closed stairway. The light was dim, and I gripped the rail tighter than I probably needed to.

  Vaguely, I wondered if I was the worst cliché, some stupid, half-naked girl walking cluelessly into dangers unknown, wielding an overly ripe banana or a pink powder puff to fend off some guy with a chainsaw.

  I pushed those thoughts aside. This was Lawton. He wasn't a monster. He was – well, I didn't know what he was exactly. My boyfriend? I'd called him that earlier, but honestly, I wasn't feeling quite so sure at the moment.

  As I neared the final step, portions of the basement came into view. I looked around. The place was gray and spotless with a painted floor that matched the painted concrete walls. I saw a few cardboard boxes, a weight bench, and some skis leaning against a far wall.

  Near the center of the room, I spotted a big oak table surrounded by four huge oak chairs. Ahead of me, Lawton turned around at the foot of the stairway to face me as I took the final step. He motioned to the table. "Have a seat."

  It was a lot cooler down here, and I felt my lack of clothing more keenly than I had just a couple minutes earlier. "Why?" I asked, rubbing my arms as I looked around. "What's down here, anyway?"

  He walked over to pull out a chair. "Sit. You'll see in a minute."

  With a sigh, I walked over and sat, resting my hands on my lap as I tried to figure out what exactly was down here. On the far side of the room, I spotted a sturdy-looking door with a deadbolt lock on it. Was he going to show me something from there? Because I sure as hell didn't see anything in the main area that warranted his strange behavior.

  I was still looking around when almost before I knew it, my hands were yanked from my lap and pulled behind me.

  From there, everything happened so fast I could barely process it all, but the sensations were unmistakable – the feel of cold metal on my wrists, the sound of the cuffs clicking shut, and Lawton's voice, colder than the metal itself, as he said, "Alright. You wanted to see something? Well, you
got your wish."

  Chapter 57

  "Lawton!" I shrieked, yanking against the cuffs. "This isn't funny."

  "It's not meant to be," he said.

  I turned my head as far as it could go. He stood immediately behind me, his arms crossed, and his face cast in shadows. He looked like a stranger, and I felt myself shiver. Still, with an effort, I kept my voice shockingly calm as I said, "Lawton, I'm serious. Let me go. Right now."

  "No," he said. "I don't think so."

  "Son-of-a-bitch!" I said. "I'm serious."

  "So am I."

  A moment later, I felt his hands on me, resting on my shoulders as he said, "Now listen up. I don't wanna hurt you. But I've gotta check for something."

  I tensed. "What?"

  "Electronics." Slowly, he ran a finger under my bra straps, and then over the bra itself. I felt a mortifying surge of heat wherever he touched, even when he went lower, skimming his hands over my panties, both the front side and the back.

  "Well?" I said, when he was done. "You happy now?"

  He didn't answer. Instead, he moved to the side of the table. With a guttural roar, he lifted it with both hands with one hard push, sending the heavy thing toppling over and crashing into the nearby wall. His face was a mask of unbridled rage.

  I clamped my lips shut, too stunned to move, much less speak.

  Then, as if the act of destruction had quenched whatever need had overcome him, he walked slowly to the opposite wall and leaned against it, facing me, his expression stony and his eyes devoid of any warmth.

  I met his gaze head-on. No flinching. No looking away. My tone was snotty as I said, "Feel better?"

  "No."

  I gave him a nasty smile. "Good."

  "Whatever."

  I rattled the cuffs, and felt my temper surge along with my frustration. "Are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on?" I demanded.

  He shrugged.

  "I deserve to know."

  At this, he made a strangled sound, half-laugh, half something else. Whatever that something else was, it was ugly and sad all at the same time. It scared me a lot more than the handcuffs.

  "You talking about this?" he said, motioning to the basement, me, the chair, everything. "You know, it's a lot better than you deserve. So if I were you, I'd shut up while you're ahead."

  "Shut up?" I said. "You asshole."

  "Takes one to know one."

  "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

  "Like you don't know."

  I tried a few more times to get him to talk. I started out calm, well, okay not exactly calm, but a lot calmer than I might have been, given the situation. But it didn't take long before any civility evaporated into bouts of cursing and yanking against the cuffs. My wrists were raw, and in no time at all, so was my throat.

  In the timespan of who-knows-how-long, I'd totally blown any resolution to squash my cursing habit. In fact, I'm pretty sure I invented some new words, mostly because I was wearing the old ones out by sheer frequency and volume alone.

  And through it all, through my ranting, through my pleading, through my struggling, he just stood there, watching, his eyes dead and his mouth hard.

  Meanwhile, another thought kept playing through my brain. It should've been the least of my worries, but every once in a while, it darted to the forefront in a way that had me even more pissed off than I would've been otherwise. I was supposed to work tonight.

  What was I supposed to do? Call and tell them I was tied up? I heard a bitter laugh coming from my own throat. Yeah, that was about right.

  "What's so funny?" Lawton said.

  "Oh, so now you wanna talk?" I said, giving him the dirtiest look I could muster up. "Fuck off."

  He bit his lip and looked toward the basement door. "You need some water?"

  I stared at him. "Water? Seriously?"

  He shrugged. He was still leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes flat. He looked harder than the concrete behind him and just as cold.

  "It's water or nothing," he said.

  "You're an asshole, you know that?"

  "I let you keep your panties, didn't I?"

  In truth, water would be heavenly, but I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of asking for it, even if he did offer. I looked around the massive basement. I saw windows, or what I guessed were windows, high up near the ceiling. But they were all covered in black plywood.

  I guess that's pretty standard if you're planning to lock someone up in your basement.

  Except it didn't look like any of this was planned. Other than the actual handcuffs, I saw nothing that would have alarmed me if I weren't in my particular predicament.

  "The guys who attacked me," I asked, "where are they now?"

  "Trust me," he said, "It's better if you don’t know."

  "Trust you?" I rattled the handcuffs. "You're joking, right?"

  "Believe what you want."

  His calm demeanor grated on me. "How long are you going to stand there?" I asked.

  "As long as you're here," he said.

  My tone was brittle. "And how long will that be, exactly?"

  He glanced at his wrist. "Another half-hour should do it."

  "Do what?"

  "Again," he said, "better if you don't know."

  My stomach dropped. What was he saying? I forced down the panic. "So you're saying you'll let me go in a half-hour?"

  At this, he glanced away. "Probably."

  Shit.

  Chapter 58

  I felt myself start to shiver. The adrenalin was wearing off, leaving me too hollow to fight the creeping sense of despair, not to mention the cold, damp basement air that had been gnawing at me with more persistence as the minutes wore on.

  At first, I'd been positively burning up with panic, then rage. But now, as my rage settled into a quiet loathing, I felt all the discomfort of my situation more keenly than ever.

  I tried to pull my knees up to my chest, but with my hands secured behind me, I couldn't get in a decent position, and my feet kept slipping off the chair-seat. Finally, I gave up. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, trembling from the cold, and probably more than a little exhaustion.

  "You want a blanket?" he asked.

  I didn't bother opening my eyes. "Fuck off," I said.

  "I'll take that as a no."

  "Whatever."

  I must've dozed off, because I slowly became aware that I was no longer cold. Somehow, a blanket had been draped over my lap and tucked under my legs. Another one covered my shoulders, correction – my aching shoulders. The handcuffs were still there, and everything from my shoulders to my wrists hurt like hell.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes. Lawton was still there, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth tight. How long had I slept? I had no idea. It might've been minutes. It might've been hours. Honestly, I couldn’t believe I'd slept at all, given the circumstances.

  And then Lawton spoke, his voice soft and eerily calm. "Why'd you do it?" he asked.

  "Do what?" I mumbled, still sleep-addled, or maybe just exhausted.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out an unfamiliar cell phone. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, then held it with the screen facing me. The screen came to life in the form of a video, shaky, but clear enough.

  It was Brittney's friend, the guy who attacked me. His face was a mass of blood and bruises. I heard Bishop's voice, off-screen. "Go ahead," he said. "Say it again, just like you told me."

  The guy took a ragged breath. "It was Chloe," he said. "She paid us a couple hundred bucks to you know, pretend to kidnap her, maybe rough her up a little bit."

  "Why?" Bishop's voice asked.

  "I don't remember," the guy mumbled.

  "Want me to make you remember?" Bishop said.

  "No, no," the guy stammered. Then, he looked straight at the camera. "She said Lawton had some kind of hero complex or something. Figured if he rescued her, you know, he'd fall for her, maybe get him to propose or I dunno, move in
with him."

  "And about the other thing?" Bishop said.

  "Yeah. Well, she was planning some sex tape thing. Lots of money. She said we'd get a cut if we did a good job making him, you know, come to her rescue and shit."

  Instantly, I was wide awake. "He's lying!"

  "Sure he is," Lawton said, in a tone that suggested otherwise.

  "I don't even know him," I yelled, anger coursing through me, and not just at Lawton. My shit list seemed a mile long.

  "Except you do," Lawton said. "You admitted as much."

  "No," I said through clenched teeth. "Just because I know him, it doesn't mean I know him."

  "That's not what he says."

  "You're gonna take his word over mine?" I said. "You are such an asshole."

  "Yeah. So you keep saying." He gave me a hard look. "But tell me something? You ever hear of this movie, called uh –" He looked away. "Riding the Rastor?"

  I felt myself pale. So Bishop had gone into my house? I should've known. "I don't fuckin' believe him," I muttered.

  "Who?" Lawton said, his voice barely interested.

  "Bishop. He went in my house, right?"

  "No," Lawton said, his voice very quiet. "He didn't. I did."

  "What?!"

  "Yeah." He made a scoffing sound. "Bishop came in, showed me this." He held up the phone, now silent. "I said 'no way, the guy's lying. That's not Chloe. I know her. That guy, he's guy's full of shit. It's some story. I don’t know where he got it, but it's not true.' But then – "

  "Then you broke into my house?"

  "Except," Lawton said, "it's not really your house, is it?"

  "I'm living there now," I said. "Isn't that good enough?"

  "You know what?" he said. "I don't really care. Not anymore."

  In spite of everything, his words sliced through me. I hated him. And I loved him. And regardless of which emotion was in charge, the guy was a total dick, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking up with me, assuming we'd ever been in a relationship in the first place.

  "Yeah. That makes two of us," I said.