An Unexpected Accord

“So, how did it finally come to this? Us locked together in a desolate dingy room, with you swinging a butcher knife in one hand, and a bottle of Jack in the other? Huh?  Tell me, Weston, I wish to know.” I said, pretending to be undaunted by the smug twinkle in his dark, unfeeling eye.

 

“Ah ah ah, we both know, you brought this calamity upon yourself, Lace.  It was inevitable that we should end up together as we are, without a goddam computer screen between us, mitigating our language, interfering with our, “quote, unquote” ‘authenticity’.  You really dig that FUCKIN’ BLARNEY, don’t you, Lace?”

 

He continued to shout rancorously, taking long periodic swigs from the bottle of Jack, which he casually swung back and forth like a pendulum as he incessantly paced, circling the barren room, non-stop. 

 

“You know, sometimes just the mere thought of you, Drives Me Fuckin’ Nuts.”  He ranted.

 

Quaking inside, my heart on cusp of bursting from fear; I actually bit my tongue, to still my nerves.  I tasted blood, it filled my mouth, seeped through my dry lips.

 

The second Weston took another drag of Jack, I licked the corner of my mouth to remove any errant droplets that had casually escaped.  Instinct kicked in, and I knew if he caught even a wee glimpse of flinch on my end, it would be my undoing.

 

Uncertain, as to how long I can maintain the false bravado:—I do not know.

 

“Then why pursue the endless vein of discourse?  Or the overall pursuit, for that matter?”  I inquired.  “You were unswervingly hell-bent, as I recall.  Never letting up, never allowing a moment of reprieve whenever I logged online.  Relentless in your drive to connect.”

 

“Yeah, we’ll, babe, I was, I was, at that.  And, I have to say, looking at you now, sitting all pretty on the goddam floor, bound in duct tape, sure makes me feeel-mighty-good!” Slapping the flat end of the butcher knife on his thigh, he unleashed a howling, “Who ah, I feel good!!” And he began dancing, twirling, to inaudible notes that eluded me.

 

Laughing nervously, out of sheer horror to the madness encapsulating me, and unfurling before my eyes, I feel slightly unhinged.  I feel disconnected. 

 

“My mind, slightly adrift, is slowly detaching from my body, as I struggle unsuccessfully at my bonds, unable to move.  I want to scream, yell for help.  If, only I could.”

 

Instead, I lash out, pleading, “What the fuck, Weston, will you please unbind my hands? Or at least bind them in front of me, instead of behind my back? Please…” I implore.

 

Locking eyes with me, he’s aware of my discomfort.  “Alright, then,” he says, swaggering over to me smirking. 

 

Squatting by my side, he said, “Hey, I saw I made you laugh a few seconds ago, when I did my, “I feel good dance”, and a wide bright ignorant smile crossed his handsome lips, and his heartless dark eyes shined, believing he had impressed me.”

 

“Yeah, you were pretty cute.  You looked happy dancing, an’ twirling with your bottle of Jack, and butcher knife flailing in the air,” I commented facetiously, while feigning a giggle; which seemed to relax him.  I knew better, not to throw fuel on fire.

 

As he sliced the duct tape from my wrists, he mindfully suggested, “Lace, why don’t you stretch your arms a bit, before I re-tape your wrists.  And, because I really like you, I’ll give you a couple of minutes, while you do so, to think about, why I shouldn’t take you, before I kill you. Or, rather, why not mull over, why I shouldn’t do either.”

 

“O-o-k-k-a-y,” I whispered in a slow stammer, uncertain, fearful, of what he might say, or do next.

 

Speaking calmly, in a casual matter-of-fact tone, while looking into my emerald eyes, he brushed long wayward strands of blonde hair from my face, and continued: “I’ll give you five minutes, babe.  You’ve got five-fucking’ minutes to convince me otherwise, and, I’ll set you free, as long as you promise, that [if] released, you will not breathe a single word of this exchange, to anyone.”

 

“Yes. I promise,” I swear.  While, all the while, reeling in hysteria within the deeper recesses of my mind.  Yet, with enough discernment to recognize the extent of his insanity, and prudence not to rile him, unduly.

 

 I am certain my facial expression resembles the look of a paralyzed deer standing before a pair of oncoming headlights. 

 

“If only someone would please drag me away from this cursed place, and away from him,” I loudly shriek in my head.

 

I feel my eyeballs literally bulging from my eye sockets, due to raw fear, and unfathomable disbelief.

 

Feeling nauseous, I force myself to swallow surging bile, before speaking.

 

“Weston,” articulating his name most politely, “Umm, Weston, since you’ve kindly permitted me a few moments of reflection, would you mind if I have a sip of your whiskey?  I think it will help, you know, to arrange my thoughts before stating my case before you.”

 

Nodding his head, yes; he cordially hands me the bottle of whiskey, and watches me drink.

 

Thirsty beyond words, I guzzle the Jack.  It burns my wounded tongue, my throat, my innards.  As I cough, sputter, from the sting of its heat, it’s bite, Weston laughs sarcastically, critically, “Yeah, I forgot you’ve got champagne taste.”

 

Quickly, I humbly quip, “I have a keen fondest for Jack, with a splash of coke, over ice, and a squeeze of lime.”

 

“Yeah, babe, that’s precisely what I mean; you’ve got champagne written all over you.”  Bending towards me, he leans in, kisses me softly upon my lips.  I kiss him back, lightly:—just enough, to observe desirous fire ignite, flicker, in his flinty eye.

 

Taken back, he cups my cheek with his free hand, then swiftly stands up, grabbing the bottle of Jack, and starts nervously pacing, circling the room, again.

 

After a short while, he comes to an abrupt stop, in front of me.  I assume to duct tape my wrists, but no.  Instead, he squats upon the unclean hardwood floor, and sits cross-legged, staring me up and down with a stern granite glare.

 

“Okay, times up.  State your case, Lace.”  The rhyming cadence, delivers a mirthful gleam to his eye, that he conspicuously tries to conceal, by taking a swig from the bottle.

 

As he puts the bottle down, I gesture towards it; he nods yes.  I take a deep draft, recognizing the perilous path I’m about to embark upon.

 

Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, amuses him, and for some odd reason, lends me the courage I need to proceed.

 

“I have given tremendous thought to your demand, Weston.  Yet, in knowing fully, that it matters not to you, whether I live, or die; I arrive at an impasse.”

 

“The mere fact that you feel indifferent to my plight, speaks volumes.  It tells me, that regardless of what I say, my words are fated to fall upon deaf ears.  Ergo, this entire charade becomes a grave waste of time, to us both.”

 

“I think, no, I believe, the only reason you considered staging this mockery, is that it stokes a perverse form of entertainment for you, at my expense.”

 

A few seconds pass, and we quietly look upon each other, sizing our mental girth, until I ask, “Am I right?”

 

“Of course you are,” he taunted.  “So, what do you propose we do, Lace?”  He asked smugly, with an answer clearly in mind.

 

“I've got only one meager thought in mind,” I confided.

 

“And, pray tell, what that is,” he asked obligingly.

 

“Many years ago, you once shared a glimpse of an ardent fantasy that burns fiercely between your thighs, in your heart; of you lingering in the tawdry, shadowy, dark corner of a room, stroking, watching … Do you recall?”

 

Although Weston appeared implacable, expressionless; his ruthless eyes danced with excited titillated fire, as he returned, “I am surprised, that you have not forgotten.”

 

“There are certain flavorings, sounds, glimpses, scents, that once etched, seared, deeply in the mind; one can never forget,” I expressed.

 

“Hmm, we’ll then. I am convinced,” he assured.

 

Before casting the butcher knife to the side, he freed my legs, and struck an unexpected accord, “In exchange for, tawdry, shadowy, dark corners; I spare your life for the sake of remembrance.”

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