Page 103 of Unbelonging
"Well?" I said, when he was done. "You happy now?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he moved to the side of the table. With a guttural roar, he lifted it with both hands with one hard push, sending the heavy thing toppling over and crashing into the nearby wall. His face was a mask of unbridled rage.
I clamped my lips shut, too stunned to move, much less speak.
Then, as if the act of destruction had quenched whatever need had overcome him, he walked slowly to the opposite wall and leaned against it, facing me, his expression stony and his eyes devoid of any warmth.
I met his gaze head-on. No flinching. No looking away. My tone was snotty as I said, "Feel better?"
"No."
I gave him a nasty smile. "Good."
"Whatever."
I rattled the cuffs, and felt my temper surge along with my frustration. "Are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on?" I demanded.
He shrugged.
"I deserve to know."
At this, he made a strangled sound, half-laugh, half something else. Whatever that something else was, it was ugly and sad all at the same time. It scared me a lot more than the handcuffs.
"You talking about this?" he said, motioning to the basement, me, the chair, everything. "You know, it's a lot better than you deserve. So if I were you, I'd shut up while you're ahead."
"Shut up?" I said. "You asshole."
"Takes one to know one."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"Like you don't know."
I tried a few more times to get him to talk. I started out calm, well, okay not exactly calm, but a lot calmer than I might have been, given the situation. But it didn't take long before any civility evaporated into bouts of cursing and yanking against the cuffs. My wrists were raw, and in no time at all, so was my throat.
In the timespan of who-knows-how-long, I'd totally blown any resolution to squash my cursing habit. In fact, I'm pretty sure I invented some new words, mostly because I was wearing the old ones out by sheer frequency and volume alone.
And through it all, through my ranting, through my pleading, through my struggling, he just stood there, watching, his eyes dead and his mouth hard.
Meanwhile, another thought kept playing through my brain. It should've been the least of my worries, but every once in a while, it darted to the forefront in a way that had me even more pissed off than I would've been otherwise. I was supposed to work tonight.
What was I supposed to do? Call and tell them I was tied up? I heard a bitter laugh coming from my own throat. Yeah, that was about right.
"What's so funny?" Lawton said.
"Oh, so now you wanna talk?" I said, giving him the dirtiest look I could muster up. "Fuck off."
He bit his lip and looked toward the basement door. "You need some water?"
I stared at him. "Water? Seriously?"
He shrugged. He was still leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes flat. He looked harder than the concrete behind him and just as cold.
"It's water or nothing," he said.
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"I let you keep your panties, didn't I?"
