Page 77 of Playing Hard to Get

Vivian

A creak issued out from the floorboards overhead and a cloud of dirt and dust rained down from above. I shivered on the dingy blanket that had become my bed in the dark, dank basement. The sliver of sunlight that was slowly disappearing on the wall above my head told me it was the third, possibly fourth, day I’d been stuck in this hole.

That was three or four days with nothing to eat or drink but half a loaf of dry, moldy bread and filthy water from that disgusting blue and gold-swirled sink. The chains wrapped around the base of the broken toilet and handcuffed to my wrists only allowed me to go so far. Getting the sink to turn on took an acrobatic feat that made me wish my nannies had pushed harder to get me into dance or gymnastics instead of indulging me with art lessons and sewing classes.

The first time I turned it on, I wanted to hurl. Tepid, brown water trickled from the rusty pipes as a hideous whine cried out in the darkness. I feared he’d come down here. A fear that still gripped me now, just as much as I feared him never coming at all.

I hadn’t seen Jason since he tossed me in the room, nauseous, dazed, and confused about what was going on. I was still confused. I'd been locked up for reasons I could only imagine. I thought he would rape me or kill me, but he never showed up.

My hand splayed across the cold dirt floor as the footsteps passed overhead again. They were different this time. Moving to an area of the house I couldn't see from here. I sat upright and pushed back into the corner, pulling the filthy, moth-eaten blanket over my dirty, bare legs. The footsteps got louder, then fell silent. A rattle at the door made me jump.

The door groaned as it opened. Jason stood in the doorway, his eyes wild, his hair sticking up on end, his clothes wrinkled and dirty. Dim light shone in from behind him, casting monstrous shadows across the room. He looked at me with his head tilted to the side, as if he questioned how I got there.

“I brought you lunch,” he finally mumbled as he lifted the pink plastic bowl in his hand. He walked halfway into the room before squatting down and setting the bowl on the floor.

I wanted to scoff. That loaf of bread was supposed to be breakfast the day he locked me in here. If it took three or four days for lunch, I wondered if I’d die by the time he brought me supper.

I ignored the food on the floor and braced myself. “What do you want from me?”

A deep chuckle rolled from his chest, turning into an all-out belly laugh. Jason bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees as his shoulders shook with his amusement. When he finally quieted, he wiped a pool of spit off his chin.

“From you?” he asked, his voice strained. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Then why am I here, Jason?”

His eyebrows squished together as he scratched at his cheek. He stared at a spot above my head and blinked like he had dust in his eye.

“You’re payback,” he finally said. He backed up to the wall and leaned against the door jamb. Ran his hand lovingly across the rotting wood as he looked around with a wistful little smile on his face. Again, a sense of familiarity hit me. But I’d spent hours, days, wracking my brain, trying to figure out who he was, to no avail. When Jason’s eyes trained on me, all the wild had disappeared and he almost looked sane. “Your father ruined my life.”

A shiver that had nothing to do with the too-cool room raced through me.

“I was a star athlete,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I had everything I could ever want. A full-ride scholarship to my school of choice. The opportunity to play lacrosse with some of the best players out there. I had good grades, great friends, and this beautiful, intelligent, amazing girl who wanted to be my girlfriend.”

Jason took a step into the room toward me and I suppressed the urge to cower further into my corner.

“And then your father found out about us. And it was gone. All of it. Just gone.”

He raised his hands to his sides and turned in a circle, this crazy-ass smile on his face. He stumbled, kicked the bowl where he left it, spilling the red liquid inside all over the dirt floor. The spoon flipped and flew across the room, landing at the foot of the toilet in a mound of ancient shit that was piled against the side of the base. He didn’t notice, just stood there with one gray tennis shoe covered in red.

Another chill raced through me. Because I saw where this was going.

“Your father planted drugs in my dorm room.” He pointed at me like it was my fault, his hand unsteady, wavering in front of him. “The trunk of my car had a brick of cocaine in it. And when the police pulled me over on an anonymous tip, they found a few grams in my pocket.”

Another step closer, and this time I couldn’t help but cower down into that disgusting blanket.

“I’d never touched drugs in my life. Barely even drank. I was focused. On the game. On my classes. But after your father came into my life…” He stopped, shook his head and frowned. “I was arrested with intent to sell. Expelled from school. I lost my place on my team, lost all of my friends. My own parents wouldn’t believe me. I went to jail because of him.”

“And you think kidnapping me will somehow make things better?” I asked, unable to keep the mocking tone out of my voice.

“Nothing will make it better. But he took everything important away from me, so I’m taking everything important away from him.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter that erupted from my chest. Jason’s wide eyes and gaping mouth made me laugh harder. When I could breathe again, when I could force the words out of my mouth, I told him, “Oh, Jason, you chose the wrong kid.”

His head tipped to the side as his brow furrowed. He scratched at that cheek again, rubbed a hand up the back of his head.

“What are you talking about? You’re Vivian Leonetti.”

“Well,” I said with another short laugh, “at least you got that right.”