Page 98 of His Old Lady

"Don't get yourself all worked up, baby." He led her through the kitchen and out to the lounge. "As you can see, I closed the business today because you're more important to me than making money. It's not every day that it's our anniversary."

Bile rose in her throat. Anniversary?

She clamped her teeth together and said, "You make me sick."

He led her over to the closest booth and forcing her down, made her sit. Stretching her legs, she wondered if there was enough room, she could slide under the table and crawl away from him.

"I brought you something." He pointed in front of her. A sack she hadn't noticed until then sat on the table. It could've come from any grocery store. A brown paper sack, the kind she received while shopping.

"Go ahead. See what I brought you." He scooted the sack closer.

Playing his stupid game, so he'd let her go, and she could call Curley to come to get her, she dragged the sack toward her and reached inside. It was a blue dress.

"What's this?"

"It's yours. Don't you remember?" Cal licked his lips. "You sure looked pretty that day."

"I've never seen this dress before. It's not mine." She flung it across the table.

Call grabbed the dress and pressed it against Faye's chest. "Don't play shy. Try it on."

"I'm not putting on someone else's clothes." She folded her arms, getting more frightened by the second.

Cal had become entirely unhinged. She pushed against the table, sliding out of the booth.

"I'm leaving."

He grabbed her upper arms, squeezing hard enough to elicit a scream of pain. "I wanted to be nice. Don't make me hurt you. How many times have I told you this was a surprise and you'd like it? Now I'm going to have to do everything myself."

She jerked away from him and darted toward the front door. He hooked her around the waist and dragged her back to the booth. "I wish you wouldn't have done that, Celia."

Her body stiffened. Celia?

Tears filled her eyes. She felt as crazy as him. As if caught in someone else's nightmare, she wanted to wake up. She wanted to go home.

She squared her shoulders. "I'm not your ex-wife. I'm Faye."

Cal slapped her across the face. She fell to her knees, holding her cheek. Shocked and scared, she scrambled away and backed herself against the wall.

He reached down for her. She recoiled, covering her face.

"Help," she screamed. "Somebody help me."

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and shook her. Continuing to scream, she knew if she stopped, he'd hurt her worse.

"Stupid bitch." He pulled her over to the cashier counter and put her in a headlock. Unable to breathe, she clawed at his arm.

Her head pounded, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Wheezing in a breath, her lungs burned for more.

"Settle down." He threw her away from him.

Her shoulder hit the wall, and she flopped to the ground, losing her balance. Cal bent over her and wrapped something around her head, covering her mouth. Afraid he'd cover her nose, she jerked, trying to get loose.

"This will teach you not to talk, Celia." He pulled a strip of tape out in front of her. "You never could just let me be. You always had to nitpick and complain."

She tried to open her mouth, but she couldn’t move her jaw. The gray tape he used wouldn't come off.

Once Cal finished securing her mouth closed, he picked up her hands and held them with one of his. The small bones in her wrist moved in his grip, sending pain up both arms.

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