Page 39 of Jesse

“You used us! You lied to us!”

“Oh, yeah. Totally makes sense now. Oh, and by the way?” I nod my head to the vent in the ceiling. “I heard everything you guys said upstairs. That one friend of yours? She’s using men too. What would you think if that first guy she meets tonight drugs her? Abducts her? Ties her ass to a chair and leaves her to rot overnight with no water?”

Emma purses her lips.

“Not so funny now, is it? And what if he and his friends—all her used-up boyfriends—just stood around talking about how they had to take their kids to ballet? Or meet other girls for sex? Or joked around sending texts? Those guys would be labeled sociopaths!”

“You’re right,” she says.

“I know I’m goddamned right! Now un-fucking-tie me!”

She walks forward towards me. Then behind me. She must have a knife because she slips something cold between the tight zip tie and my skin, and then the pressure releases. I bring my hands into my lap, sighing with relief as my stretched-tight shoulders relax.

She does the same for my ankles and I stand up and look down at my suit. I am covered in leaves and dirt. “What did you do? Drag my ass on the ground?”

She presses her lips together and says nothing.

I rub the welts on my wrists as I look at her, wondering how the fuck she could even think of a plan like this. “Did I ruin your life, Emma? Is that why?”

“No,” she says. “My life is fine.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a huge success story. Own your own billion-dollar company, pretty as fuck, and smart. So what the hell were you thinking?”

She shakes her head at me, then turns with a swing of her dress, and starts to walk out.

I grab her by the arm. Maybe a little bit too tight, but fuck that. She’s not walking out on me. “I want an explanation.”

She turns slowly. Looks me in the eye. Lips pursed in defiance. Eyes blazing with anger.

“How bad do you have to hurt someone to pull a stupid stunt like this?” I ask. “Did I hurt you like that? Because I liked you, OK? A lot. And tonight, when I finally figured who you were, when I finally figured out you were that girl—the one I fell for all those years ago and then got ripped away from… you can’t even imagine how fucking happy I was. For like five whole seconds I thought to myself, ‘Finally. Finally something good happens to me. Something natural and not contrived. Something special.’” I stare at her as her pout falls into an even deeper frown. “And then I realized it wasn’t good at all. It was just the same old shit all over again.”

“You liked Mila a lot too,” she whispers. “All those things you said to me that night. I played them over and over in my head for years. Wondering if they were true or not. But you said them to her too. You said them to all of us. What am I supposed to believe?”

“They were true,” I say.

“You were drunk. And high.”

“Yeah, I was. Because I had a problem back then. But I thought about you too. Every fucking day for weeks.”

“But you left anyway.”

“I didn’t leave, Emma. My uncle died and my brother came and got me. I was on a plane less than an hour after I last saw you.” I throw up my hands and sigh. “Why am I even bothering? I told you this right before you fucking drugged me and it made no difference. You and your friends have already made up your minds about me. I’m the asshole. I deserve this. I deserve to be drugged, abducted, and left to rot in some dark basement with no water. What if I died?”

“You weren’t going to die.” She huffs. “And I came back for you. You’re free, aren’t you? Just… go. Get the fuck out of here. I never want to see you again.”

I just shake my head at her. “You know what sucks the most about this night?” She looks at me but doesn’t offer anything up. “I like you. I liked you. And you… well,” I say, throwing up my hands. “You got what you came for, I guess.”

I walk past her and come out into another room. Look around, find the stairs, and then take them three at a time.

I come up in a kitchen, spy the door, reach for the handle and pull. Only to realize… she locked me in.

When I turn around she’s behind me.

“What now?” I ask. “Is there a second phase to this plan?”

She says nothing.

“Open. The fucking door, Emma.”