Caged

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  His face was close, breathing my air. Every time I made eye contact with him, I lost myself in the most literal sense. I said things I’d never said before, and did things I would never have done; I was a completely different person. I was so influenced by his energy, his power, as if it was seeping out of him and into me. I knew I could sense the feelings of others as well as I could my own, but this was entirely different and new. The feeling was heightened exponentially with eye contact so I tried my best to avoid it. I did an amazingly poor job of it.

  I heard a voice from behind me but didn’t acknowledge it until a hand clamped down onto my arm and jerked me around in a not-so-friendly way. Sean’s look was murderous. He was visually communicating his desire to creatively remove certain body parts from the guy he’d just peeled me off of, making sure the process was intolerable. There was something personal about his stare, like the two had been at a crossroad before.

  “Do you two know each other?” I asked, not really expecting an honest answer. I needed to diffuse the situation before the pissing contest got any more heated. The man laughed and said nothing. I abruptly turned to look at Sean, not sure how he would react to the man’s expressed humor with the situation. He did nothing but stare him down.

  “You never truly know anyone, Ruby,” he said, calmly. “But no. I don’t know him.”

  Sean’s emphasis on the word “him” seemed strange, but so was Sean sometimes. I shrugged as I audibly exhaled. Boys can be so trying sometimes.

  I looked back at the man causing such a clear air of tension between them. I wanted to know who he was. However, as soon as I looked at him I no longer cared, I just wanted to be with him regardless of the cost.

  “I’m Eric,” he said without being prompted.

  “Ruby,” I managed as I struggled against Sean’s very strong grip to get closer to Eric.

  “We’re leaving,” Sean stated as he whirled me around and marched me towards the door. My feet barely made contact with the floor and I realized he’d picked me up around the waist to drag me out of the dance hall. Eric followed closely behind with a wickedly amused look plastered all over his face. The situation was more personal than either of them was letting on and I was furious at being in the dark about something that so clearly involved me.

  Sean stomped through the lobby, pushing through innocent club goers with no regard. As we broke through the front door, Eric slipped a small piece of paper into my hand as Sean continued on towards the parking lot. He didn’t see me take it so I managed to quickly slip it into my shirt and down my bra even with the restricted range of motion I had in my arm. I doubted that Sean would strip search me to find it even if he had seen what I did. Eric slipped out of sight into the bar while I continued to be hauled away like luggage to the car.

  “I’m quite capable of walking, you know,” I said with as much ferocity as I could muster.

  “I’ve seen what you’re capable of tonight,” he scoffed.

  “Why are you so angry with me?” I asked trying desperately to figure out what offense of mine he’d suffered.

  “It’s nothing,” he answered.

  “Nothing? This is how you act about nothing? Remind me never to do something to you then, because I shudder to think what your reaction would be to that,” I said, trying to wiggle away from him.

  He had no reply. We made our way to the car: me tucked under his arm and Sean still pissed off. When we got to the BMW he put me down right in front of him and bent down so close to me that I could see the tiny scar just above his left eyebrow.

  “I’m angry because you don’t know what the hell you’re doing and you’re going to get yourself hurt one of these days. You know nothing about that guy and yet I barely managed to get you out of there while your clothes were still on,” he said with an ever increasing volume. “You looked like a bitch in heat out there. Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”

  “No, I don’t,” I yelled, feeling insulted. “Apparently you do though, so why not be a peach and share some of your vast knowledge on the subject?” I asked angrily.

  “All you need to know is that guys like that are trouble. They care about only one thing in life and that’s them,” he said, he eyes flashing hatred. “They are always their own bottom line…everyone and everything else is assessed as to whether or not they can improve that.” In the dim lighting the streetlamps provided, I could have sworn his beautiful green eyes were swallowed by a black so deep it appeared endless. “Any more questions?”

  I hadn’t noticed how tightly he was gripping my arms, and I tried to pull them out of his grasp before they were bruised.

  “Why do you even care?” I asked, finally freeing myself.

  I knew it had been a low blow when I said it, but I was so infuriated that it didn’t seem to matter at the time. His expression softened slightly, but I felt his anger and anxiety coursing through me.

  “If you have to ask that question, then you really aren’t the person I thought you were,” he said, opening the car door. I sighed, walking around to the passenger side to get in. We both sat in darkened silence for a few minutes; he hadn’t even started the car. I felt the growing tension in the air and knew I wouldn’t be able to take it for too much longer. I knew he was angry and clearly distraught by my behavior, but there was something else coming off of him, something that I couldn’t place.

  Is he…hurt?

  He finally broke the silence.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he turned to face me. “I have no right to judge your behavior or your choice in…men.” The last word came off his tongue like it was bitter, offending his mouth.

  I sooooo wasn’t expecting that.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. The truth was that I didn’t recognize my behavior that night any more than he did. I felt strange from the moment I laid eyes on Eric. That sensation seemed to only increase with my physical proximity to him. As soon as he went back into the club it was like I slowly came down off a high and more into myself. With that came the embarrassment and shame of my uncharacteristically whorish behavior. I was even more ashamed that Sean had been there to witness it, and to add insult to injury, had to save me from the whole debacle.

  He owed me no apology.

  “Don’t be. I was being defensive earlier. I…I don’t know what happened. I’ve never felt like that before and certainly haven’t acted that way either. What’s really weird is that the feeling seems to be fading. Do you think somebody slipped something into my drink?” I asked while I grasped for something to rationalize my behavior.

  “Yes,” he said, firmly. “I think that’s exactly what happened. I’m going to take you home now, and I’m going to stay over to make sure there aren’t any ill effects from whatever got into your system tonight.” He fired up the engine and backed the car out onto the street. “No arguments, either.”

  I saw no point in challenging him and surrendered to his plan, falling asleep on the car ride home. Before I reached the point of dreaming, I awoke with a shooting pain in my head, courtesy of the wall it was banged against in my stairwell.

  “OUCH!” I groused.

  He grinned impishly.

  “Sorry, I didn’t gauge that corner very well,” he said.

  I closed my eyes and rubbed the growing knot on the top of my head. He gently put me down in front of the apartment door and unlocked it. I dragged myself across the threshold and headed down the hall. I stopped at the linen closet and got out extra blankets and a pillow for Sean’s rendezvous with my sofa. I walked back into the living room and placed them on the coffee table before immediately heading back down the hallway to my room. I didn’t stop to use the bathroom or brush my teeth. My clothes remained where they were when I collapsed on my bed, too exhausted to stand any longer. I didn’t care about anything but sleep.

  I heard his footsteps coming down the hall to my room, and knew without looking that he was paused in my doorway.

  “I just came to say goodnight,” he said soft
ly. I managed to grunt in response as I laid across the bed on top of the covers. He moved closer, making his way into my room uninvited. My pulse started to quicken. My body went rigid.

  “Shhhhhhhhhhh,” he said, seeing the anxiety he was causing me. “I just wanted to make it better,” he said, leaning over to place a whisper of a kiss on my head where he’d bumped it against the wall. “Sleep well, Ruby,” he said softly as he walked out of my room, closing the door behind him.

  14

  I awoke the next morning feeling much more like myself. The effects of the drugs had worn off completely. I did a quick scan of my body, making sure that all the appropriate bits were functional and accounted for. Sitting up cautiously, I paused when I reached a full, upright position, unsure if there would be a bass drum playing in my temples from the previous night’s shenanigans. Luckily for me there wasn’t, so I proceeded to get up and go see what I could wrangle up for breakfast.

  I sauntered down the hallway, passing the bathroom and kitchen on the way to the living room to see if Sean was awake and ready for some food. When I arrived I saw an empty couch with a neatly folded stack of blankets on top of it, but no Sean. There was, however, a note atop the pile.

  Ruby,

  I looked in this morning to see that you were okay. I had to leave to go grade some awfully written term papers - didn’t want to wake you to say goodbye. Will stop by the shop later today to make sure you’re doing well.

  Sean

  No longer needing to cook for two, I opted for a banana and a water to go. I’d been neglecting the business part of my business for too long, so I had a hot and heavy date with QuickBooks to rectify that situation. I grabbed the stack of blankets and took them to the linen closet, neatly placing them on a shelf before continuing down the hall to my room. I needed to grab a jacket but couldn’t find one in the mass chaos of my bedroom, so I settled for a black Nike hoodie that I found buried in the back of my closet. I also grabbed a bandanna to pull my hair back with so it wouldn’t drive me certifiably insane while working on the books. As I turned to leave, a small piece of black paper lying innocently on my bed caught my attention. It was slightly hidden by a fold in the covers so I didn’t recognize it immediately. I knelt down on the bed and reached across to retrieve it from my wadded-up comforter. The second I touched it, a rush of heat went through me and I knew exactly what it was. Eric. It was his card, which was really just his name and phone number - no business, profession, address, or last name.

  I felt compelled to call him that second, and it took more restraint than I thought I possessed not to do it. Don’t want him to think I’m fatal attraction material. I sighed and stuck it in my back pocket. Maybe out of sight out of mind would prove true.

  After hours of filing through bank statements and invoices, and reconciling the accounts, I came to two very distinct conclusions: that accountants were certifiably insane, and that I was the world’s worst business woman. The biggest challenge for any self-employed craftsman was that being great at your skill did not equal business success. I needed to get my bookkeeping shit together before I failed, as that possibility was becoming all too real to me. I really needed help.

  Torn between my desire to face the situation and run away from it altogether, I decided I would organize the back studio and put my frustration into that task for a bit. On my way around the counter I reached my hands to the small of my back to force a low back stretch; computer time was proving terrible for my body. As I slid my hands down, they eventually landed in the back pockets of my jeans. My right hand flared like it was on fire when it touched the little piece of black paper I had tucked away so strategically. I pulled it out just as I crossed paths with my office phone. The compulsion to pick it up and call him was all consuming and undeniable. I was clearly no match for it.

  The receiver was ringing before I even realized I’d dialed him.

  “Hello?”

  15

  When I hung up three hours later, I realized that I had no idea what had just happened. I knew we talked, flirted and made plans for the night, but I would have sworn that the person talking just wasn’t me. It was as though I’d been in some sort of weird fugue that I snapped out of as soon as the receiver clicked off, leaving me with the gist of what had been said and done, but no sense of ownership of the words or actions - a real out-of-body experience. I’d never sounded so self-assured and confident talking to a guy before, but with Eric everything seemed so natural, so effortless, so right. I didn’t have to try, I just was, and it was a feeling I really started to like.

  He had asked me to go to a party that his friend was hosting - nothing too formal, but not exactly a college kegger either. It was at a downtown apartment building in Boston, in the penthouse. Apparently his friend had recently acquired the place and wanted to christen it. Normally I was intimidated by events like that and would have found a way to weasel out of it, or suggest something else, but I didn’t. Somehow knowing that I was going to be with him made everything okay.

  We agreed to meet at Vain since I actually knew where that was. Boston wasn’t known as an easy city to navigate when you weren’t from there, and I didn’t want to be late because I was driving aimlessly through downtown streets. That being said, I was a cautious woman and I knew enough to pick a neutral place to meet. The world wasn’t safe for a single girl and I’d watched enough Dateline NBC to know that to be true. I may have picked up amazing vibes from Eric, but I didn’t know him and I didn’t want to end up dead in a gutter somewhere because I surrendered common sense because of the warm fuzzies he gave me.

  Once all the details were ironed out, he let me go to get myself ready for the party. He seemed to sense that I was about to have a meltdown of epic proportions, though I was certain he was unaware that it was regarding my wardrobe decision. Regardless, his polite dismissal allotted enough time for that to occur. I couldn’t for the life of me think of something fabulous to wear. I needed my fashion consultant, aka Ronnie, to hook me up but her store was closed, so I was on my own.

  I flew upstairs and tore into the apartment, barely remembering to close the door behind me. I continued straight into the bedroom, directly to my walk-in closet. I stared blankly up into the u-shaped racks that lined the walls, the two tiers of clothing spanning from floor to ceiling. Building that closet had been the best money I’d ever spent. I may have lost square footage in the guest bedroom, but I didn’t care. My clothes needed a good home.

  Surrounded by the all those garments, I knew that logically speaking there had to be something appropriate to wear, but I felt strangely at odds with everything I grabbed. Even old favorites didn’t do it for me, and they were my fail-safe, go-to ringers.

  I tore through that closet like a wardrobe-challenged tornado, tearing everything piece of clothing off of its hanger until every last article lay strewn across the floor. I stood amidst the aftermath, ankle deep in the sea of fabric I had created, wearing only black bikini underwear and a matching demi-bra. Wading through the mess to grab a pair of jeans, I caught a glimpse of myself in the antique mirror I propped along the wall. For the briefest of moments I had the most bizarre and disturbing thought.

  This could work…maybe with a slip over it?

  I struggled to make sense of the thought, shaking my head while rummaging through my shelf of shoes. If I couldn’t be inspired to build an outfit off of my clothing, I hoped that maybe I could with a great shoe choice. I wanted to make a great impression on all of Eric’s friends and be comfortable at the same time, and that was a tall order for any shoe. It was hard to look sexy with bloody feet from rubbed-off blisters, walking like you just got off the horse you’d been riding for a week straight. I eyed the perfect pair to fit the bill.

  I’d spent a small fortune on them after seeing them in a W magazine that Ronnie had laying around her shop a month or two earlier. They were impossible to resist, and frankly, I didn’t want to. Everything about them was perfect: royal purple satin stilettos with a fau
x platform and jeweled toe embellishment. Christian Louboutin really knew a thing or two about designing shoes.

  I screeched in an all-too-girlie way when I found them and slipped them on to wade back through the mess I’d made. I was literally hoping to stumble across the perfect accompanying pieces when I saw myself in the mirror again.

  He’ll love it.

  Immediately after thinking it a flush of heat went through my body like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and God help me, I reached for a coat as I walked out of the room.

  What’s wrong with me?

  I was rapidly turning into a therapist’s dream. My chart would have read: “patient suffers from delusions and distinct breaks with reality, along with a complete lack of social understanding and assimilation…and she’s a ho.”

  Frustrated and horrified with myself, I looked back into the room and saw something sparkle from under the pile. I snatched it and held it up. This will work. I tossed on the pewter, sequined racerback tank and slipped my bra off; bra straps should never be a visible part of an outfit. I found the appropriate pair of dark-wash super-skinny jeans to complement the looseness of the top. A few bangles and hoop earrings later, and I was ready to go. I grabbed my cropped leather jacket as I headed out the door and slipped it on as I ran down the stairs.

  I locked up the building behind me and headed for my car. Once in, I made sure the iPod was cued up and ready to go with my best party music playlist, checked the gas, fired her up, and headed off to 95S. It promised to be a great night, pending my ability to keep my libido in check and my clothes on.

  I pulled up outside Vain just shortly after 10pm. I called him when I was twenty minutes out of town, so he could drive down to meet me there. He was perched in a very masculine way against the brick wall of the club, looking like a god. He had so many amazing features, but his skin blew me away. Such a contrast to my own, the milky brown looked like something I wanted to eat. Maybe I did.