Twisted Proposal (23 page)

“Fine, you’re such a baby.” I returned to the bathroom and put the stupid dress on. This has better be worth it.

Minutes later, we were speeding down the road.

Breakfast turned out to be at a quiet bistro near the ocean over four hours away. It was slightly chilly, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Eat,” he ordered, after a plate of scrambled eggs and fruit was placed in front of me.

“I’m not hungry. Do you not remember me getting sick a few hours ago?”
              “Which is why you need nutrients,” He pushed a large glass of water toward me. "And drink some of this. It will help."

Sighing, “This isn’t my first hangover Jackson. I’ve been trashed before.”  I picked up a strawberry and bit into it to appease him, but then managed to eat most of my food. I guess I was hungry.

We spent the rest of the day at an art museum, where Jackson revealed that his dead mother’s photographs were on display there. He had to show me all of her pictures and tell me the story behind them. Not that I wasn’t interested--she was an amazing photographer--but it was not the way I would have chosen to nurse a hangover.
Sleep, yes sleep would be nice.

“What was your favorite photo?” he asked when we were back in his car.

“The one of you and her on the beach. There’s sadness in her eyes that I’ve seen in your eyes. You miss her, don’t you?”

“Every day,” he said and turned up his music really loud.

I never expected him to feel anything. He turned it off a few minutes later.

“My father killed her for having an affair.” He said the words so softly that I had to lean in to hear him.

I nodded. There was no way I heard him correctly. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I kept my mouth shut. Now was not the time to say the wrong thing.

We stopped for dinner at a Polynesian restaurant, and he ordered for us. I ate close to everything on my plate.

“Are you bulimic?” he asked when the plates were removed.

“No, why would you ask that?”

“You should be, it doesn’t take a lot to get fat and we don’t want that to happen, do we?” He picked up a knife and began cleaning it with his napkin and the light caught his eyes making them seem to glow.

He was a bonafide psycho, I was sure of it. It was time for me to exit
. I excused myself to use the restroom and borrowed some woman’s cell phone and called home.

“Hello?” Stuart asked, sounding very professional.

“Dad?”

“Addison? Where are you?”

“I can’t believe you would do this to me. You know he’s like cuckoo crazy right? He’s taken me to like some weird art museum and,” I put my head to my head, which throbbed. “Can’t you come and get me or something? I…he’s starting to freak me out.”

“Addison, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“I’m sure you saw him tackle me in the front lawn today. What’s to say he won’t kill me or something?”

“Enough, Addison. I’ll see you when you get home.” He hung up. I stared at the phone for a few seconds before handing the phone back. I returned to my seat in a daze. He didn’t care what happened to me.

“What’s going on, Jackson?”

“Not now,” he replied, signing for the check.

We were at the car, when it dawned on me I could run, I didn’t know where I was, but that never stopped me before. I paused just as I opened the door and slammed it shut. I wasn’t going anywhere until he told me the truth, which wasn’t going to happen. He’d lured me here under false pretenses. Turning around, I wondered if that woman would let me call for a cab.

“Where are you going?” Jackson asked as he rushed after me.

“Away from you.”

“No.” He grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back and shoved me toward the car. “You have two seconds to open the door with your other hand, or I’ll break this one.”

“Fine, asshole.”  We walked back to the car, terrified. I plopped down into the passenger’s seat as soon as he released me. He slammed the door shut and locked it. I pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge.

“Child safety locks,” he said as an explanation as he climbed in. “Handy, don’t you think?” He turned the key in the ignition. “We’re going to my father's vacation house on the beach; it’s too late to head back now.”

“I want to go home. Take me home.”

              “That’s not an option, if you want to know the truth.” I could tell he was staring at me, waiting for a response. I pushed my hair behind my ears and nodded hating not having any control.

Chapter Twenty-Three

We arrived at his father’s vacation home, a small two-bedroom bungalow on the beach with no phone. The sun had set by the time we had arrived and I tried to relax as he gave me the grand tour.  He left me alone and I began to snoop. The closets and drawers were filled with clothes. I guess if you had as much money as these people you could afford multiple wardrobes. Finding a pair of sweats and tee shirt, I changed and found Jackson standing in front of floor to ceiling windows staring at the ocean. I thought about grabbing a knife and sneaking up on him, but found myself feeling sorry for him.

Resisting Jackson was dangerous. I needed a better approach.
Maybe a softer touch would work better?
I joined him and wrapped my arms around him. “Ready for bed?” I asked.

              He turned and took my hands in his. “I want this to really work this time.”

             
Wait, what was he talking about?
Pushing my concerns aside, I stepped closer to him. “I know.” I leaned forward and kissed him, then led him to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asked pulling his hand away.

“Why did you bring me back here if …if we were just going to sleep? I mean, I thought we made a deal. I’d do what you wanted to find out what’s going on.”

“That’s not what I meant. Look I’m not doing anything with you until you’re at least eighteen. I don’t need a statutory rape charge,” he said, going back to the living room. I trailed behind him and sat next to him as he opened a wooden chest on the coffee table taking out a cigarette

“Then when are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He took me in and leaned close to my face and I smelled the familiar peppermint stench of his girly cigarette. “Whenever I feel like it sweetheart. So why don’t you sit back and leave me the fuck alone.” He sat back propping his feet up on the coffee table.

Before I could stop myself, I sent the chest flying across the room. It shattered against the wall. Jackson glared at me and took a drag.

I grabbed the cigarette and put it out on the couch next to his head. “Tell me now!”

“That’s Italian leather!” He gaped at the burn.

“I’m sure your father can buy you another one,” I grabbed the television remote ready to throw it next, but he grabbed it, pushing me on the couch. His were filled with desire and as he reached over me, I kissed him.

Almost instantly, he seemed to forget about everything he’d just lectured me on. He pulled me to my feet, our lips never leaving each other. Wrapping my legs around his waist, he grabbed my ass holding me against him. We stood there for a few seconds, and then somehow made it to the bed.

I don’t think we could have stopped if we wanted to. Our bodies were so in tune with each other. It was something I had never experienced before. I don’t think he had either.

When it was over, we lay in a tangled mess. “Are you always like a wild animal?” he asked, as he rolled onto his side.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I smiled at him.

“Well it’s not that I mind, but maybe we should take it slower next time.”

I fumed.
Was he seriously giving me a lecture about sex?
This was too much even for him. I started to get up, but he pulled me back down and kissed me passionately.

I returned the kiss, and he pulled away, “Slower,” he ordered. This time, I did as I was told. For the next hour, he pushed me further than anyone ever had, and in the end, I enjoyed every minute of it.

Afterward, I lay sprawled across his chest, completely drained of all energy. He casually stroked my back. “See slower can be better.” He balanced the phone in one hand, texting. 

I put my hand over his to stop him. “Tell me everything.” I said, ready to listen.

He set the phone down, studying me, the expression on his face unreadable. “Your father and mine entered into an arrangement all right. It happened way before you even came into the picture. But I’d rather have you than Lexus any day.”

If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t. “What kind of arrangement?”

“Kind of like…like an arranged marriage.”

It felt like the mattress had dropped from underneath me, and I wiped my face with my hand. ”Why? There has to be a way out it. I can’t marry you.”

He laughed. “You know nothing about my father, do you?” He stared at the blank television screen in front of him. “This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this.”

“Wait, but why is he concerned about you getting hitched? Why is that so important to him?”

“What can I say, he likes control.”

“Yeah, but--”

“But nothing, Addison. For some deranged reason, my father likes you.”

“So I need to make him dislike me then.” I shook my head. “There’s got to be more to it than that. What are you not telling me?”

”That’s all I know.” He picked up the remote and flipped on the television.

When I grabbed for the remote, he twisted my wrist and forced me to let go.

“You’re lying.” I massaged the bruise on my arm, reluctant to look him in the eyes.

“We’re not talking about it anymore. I’ve already told you too much.”

I jumped to my feet and pulled on my sweats and tee shirt.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Ignoring Jackson's protests, I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me. I couldn’t believe Stuart would do this to me.
Oh, wait
. Yes, I could. I hit the wall a few times with my open hand and screamed!
Fuck Stuart.
He hated me and everything that I represented. This was utter bullshit. Turning on the cold water in the sink, I splashed my face a few times to calm down. When I looked up from washing my face, Jackson’s image was reflected in the mirror. I aced him, unsure of what he was thinking. “What?”

“You think you can just screw me over and get away with it.” He stood very close, pressing me against the counter.

I dried my face with the hand towel that was in my hand. “No,” I replied, as I placed the towel on the counter. I tried to ease past him, but I wasn't prepared for the sudden slap that almost knocked me to the ground.

My head was spinning and I thought I’d pass out, but I managed to catch myself on the tub and stand.

Jackson strode toward me, his face contorted with rage. “I refuse to be some pawn in your sick game.”

“I’m not the one playing games.” I returned, not backing down from him. My heart was beating in my throat, but I willed myself not to move.

He stood a fingers length away from me. "Get away from me," I whispered. "You're crazy."

He paused for a moment, staring at me, then laughed turning away.

I didn’t falter and I frantically looked around for something to defend myself with, but there wasn’t even a toothbrush. He was going to snap, I could feel it in the air and I wanted to be out of his way.

But just as I started to move away from the wall, Jackson wheeled around, fists clenched. He punched me in the stomach. Hard. I gasped as I fell against him. “Don’t ever call me crazy again.” He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head to the side. “You haven’t even begun to understand the word.” Then he released me and strolled out of the bathroom.

Wheezing from the pain, I slid to the floor. The tile felt cool against my cheek, and I lay there, my eyes partially closed, thinking that I never wanted to get up. Tears seeped from eyes. This was not happening to me. I wasn’t going to be someone’s punching bag. I had to get up and get out of here. I had to get home and show Stuart. Maybe he wasn't aware of what Jackson was really like. Maybe he was living in a delusion like the rest of the world.

Pain flooded my abdomen as I rose and lifted my shirt. A fist-sized red mark had bloomed on my stomach where Jackson's knuckles had ground into my flesh. Lowering the shirt, I forced myself to stop crying and washed my face. I’d seen Jackson place his car keys near the front door on a table, so I had to make it there and be out the door quick.

When I stepped into the bedroom, Jackson was lying in bed reading a book, calm and quiet, like nothing had happened. I leaned against the doorframe trying to look relaxed.

“What are you doing?” asked Jackson, eyes still glued to the book.              

“Never you mind what I’m doing.” I bolted toward the bedroom door and made it to the living room before being knocked to the ground. “Let me go, Jackson!”

“No.” I said coolly and easily snaking his arms around me and pulling me close to him. I screamed and wrenched my body this way and that trying to break free.

“Will you please calm down!” he growled moving one of his forearms to my throat and I froze. “Don’t tempt me Addison,” he said in my ear and I surrendered.

Then he lifted me off the ground and dragged me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed.

“I don’t understand you at all.”

“Why can’t I leave?”

“No more questions, it’s late.” He muttered sitting next to me and picking up his book. A few minutes later, he dozed off. 

Jackson was wrong about one thing…I knew what crazy was. I’d lived with a paranoid schizophrenic for sixteen years of my life

I waited until I was sure he was sound asleep, then went to the bathroom for a shower. The water burned as it sprayed across my bruised body. Afterward, I changed into a loose-fitting sun dress I found in the closet.

I was just about to leave when Jackson's cell phone buzzed. I crept over to his side of the bed and touched the screen, bringing it to life.

It was a message from Dad:
Okay, then I’ll draw up the necessary paper work.

Paper work? What did that mean?
I was too afraid to nab the phone and sift through his messages.

Jackson stirred, and I inched my way out of the room. Rushing to the front door, I grabbed his keys and realized there was no handle on the door, instead a strange combination thing was set up.

“What the fuck,”

I tried every door, but they wouldn’t open and neither would the damn windows. Who had a house with combinations for locks? Returning to the bedroom, I snagged Jackson’s phone. He didn’t bother keeping a lock on his like Carli so it was easy to access his personal information. The phone was surprisingly clean of anything interesting. I found a few pictures of me sleeping, which I pleasantly deleted and read text messages between him and his father. It seemed he was being reluctant about going to college. Throwing his phone at the wall, it was obvious I wasn’t going anywhere.

So after watching the sun rise, I dug through the pantry finding the ingredients for pancakes.

That was another thing that Elizabeth and I had in common. When we were stressed, we cooked. I made Jackson a few flap jacks and one for myself. I had just finished eating when Jackson waltzed into the kitchen in his boxers.

“Aww, you fixed breakfast.” He glanced at his plate and tossed it into the sink, breaking the glass, making me scoot back in my chair. “Too bad I don’t eat that junk. You shouldn’t either. That shit makes you fat.”

“Oh well,” I briefly thought about licking the plate.

He poured himself a cup of coffee ignoring me. “Have you done anything yet?” I watched as he adding two spoons of sugar and milk to his cup. He stirred it three times and placed the spoon on a piece of paper towel he had carried with him. Everything was calculated, concise. He reminded me more of a surgeon than the businessman his father wanted him to be.

“Uh, can’t say that I have.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His eyes met mine. “If this is going to work, we’re going to have to be honest with each other. Now I know you took my phone, which by the way is it?”

“Your phones on the floor somewhere and no I didn’t use it. Just deleted a few creepy pictures of me sleeping.”

“Did you delete anything else?”

Sipping my coffee, I took pleasure in catching him off guard. “Sadly no, but next time I will make sure to reset your phone.”

He left the room and returned with his phone, which now had a large crack down the face of it.  “You cracked my phone.

“Oppssee.” I drained my coffee.

He downed his coffee tossing the mug in the sink, breaking it loudly. “We leave in fifteen.”

Silence filled the car on the way back; he didn’t even have the decency to turn on the radio. Part of me could hear his thoughts playing out loud, though, with his side glances and angry stares. It was as if he was asking me why I wasn’t up for this sick twisted game. Why couldn’t I just play the hand I had been dealt? But I acted dumb and pretended not to notice.

“What are you going to say?” he asked when we pulled in the driveway of my house. We had parked behind his father’s grey four-door Lexus.

“Who says I’m going to say anything?”

“Addison, I’d have to be a fool to think you’d keep your mouth shut.”

I shrugged. “Maybe you are.” I exited the car and went inside where I barged into Stuart’s office without knocking. Stuart and Van Buren were engaged in a discussion about a guy named Fred Spinster and his court date. I planted myself on the edge of Stuart’s desk and stared at them. Jackson stopped just inside the door and leaned against the frame with an amused look on his face. I think he liked the fact that I was willing to confront them.