Page 16 of Bottoms
“It’s possible,” Fynn said with a smirk. It was the type of smile an executioner would give as he sharpened his blade.
“What was Tanner’s father like when you were a kid?”
My question made Fynn’s smile falter. He pushed off the table, making me jump. The feet of the chair screeched across the wooden boards. Fynn moved around the table and into the kitchen, opening the cabinet door to pull the empty glass from its place beside the bottle.
“Can I get one of those instead of the coffee?” I asked after he drained his glass.
“How about I bring the bottle into the living room, and you can see what Santa left under the tree?” Fynn countered, grabbing a second glass from the cupboard. His mood was lighter than it was a moment ago.
“Santa didn’t leave me anything,” I scoffed, getting to my feet. My movements were still slow, careful not to hurt the delicately healing skin. But the pain didn’t feel debilitating anymore, either.
“You will just have to look and see,” Fynn smiled as he walked backward through the kitchen and into the living room.
Fynn had made changes to the living room I hadn’t noticed when I came down this morning. The old dusty couch was pushed to the far end of the room, and a blow-up mattress was in its place. It sat on the floor with pillows and blankets in a heap on top for comfort. A computer monitor sat opposite the bed, on a small side table with a mess of wires coming out the back.Die Hardwas queued up on the screen.
The Christmas tree’s white lights twinkled, giving a magical quality to the room that only Christmas could bring. The blue bulbs and decorations were perfectly placed, making me smile to know I had created something so beautiful. A handful of messily wrapped presents sat beneath the bottom green branches. Those were not there when I went to bed last night.
“I’m going to need at least one drink before I’m willing to even consider accepting a present from you. You are a murderous psychopath that kidnapped and drugged me,” I said with my good hand on my hip while I raised an eyebrow. “There better not be any human body parts wrapped up in one of those boxes.”
He smiled as he turned to set the two cups on the table with the computer monitor. Opening the bottle with his free hand, he filled the glasses half full. “Just sip on it throughout the movie. Do not drink it all at once,” Fynn said firmly, holding out my drink.
I took the cup from his outstretched hand and looked him in the eyes as I took a long drink. I hadn’t intended to channel Hannah so early in the morning, but something inside me wouldn’t let me do as he ordered. The burning sensation that raced back up from my stomach made me stop before I went too far. Fynn shook his head before turning around to start the movie.
Carefully, I settled onto the mattress, setting my glass down on the floor next to me. I pulled blankets and pillows around me to build up the perfect cave. My head felt fuzzier than expected, considering I had only a large mouthful of alcohol.
I settled in and turned towards the screen, filling my heart with comforting familiarity as the opening scene started. I was reminded of this scene whenever I traveled on a plane, except for my private plane ride with Tanner. That was an entirely new way to survive air travel. It probably helped more than taking off my shoes and rubbing myself on a rug, as the movie suggested.
“See. They just said to have a Merry Christmas. I don’t understand the people that insist it isn’t a Christmas movie,” I whined to the universe. “Does it really matter what traditions I hold? Can’t people just learn to stay in their existence and stop shoving it on others?”
“Delivery from the North Pole,” Fynn said. Making me jump and turn in the direction of his voice, right before he tossed one of the presents from under the tree directly into my lap.
I caught it mainly because it was thrown perfectly to land in my lap whether I reacted or not. My hands gripped the box, noting how the candy cane wrapping paper was loosely arranged and copiously taped.
“I’m really not a present person,” I said hesitantly, placing the box on the floor beside my drink.
“That’s because you have received gifts in the past that created more work in the future. You see gifts as tasks. A task to be sure the person giving it to you is pleased by your reaction. You worry about the process of exchanging gifts, guessing what they will give to you so you can give them something of a relatively equal manner.”
I lost all urge to watch my holiday movie tradition. Fynn had proven that he had stalked me for years before I met Tanner or the others, but psychoanalysis from my stalker hit the point home.
“Answer my questions, and I will open the presents.” I wouldn’t have to take the gifts with me when I escaped, but I may be able to get him to give me some answers.
“Insisting on trade with defined terms is your way of managing this gift exchange. It’s so you do not end up indebted. You learned how to do that after your father died, and your mother leaned on you to take care of her emotionally.”
“Thanks, Freud,” I breathed. “Do we have a deal or not?” I asked, not wanting to hear any more of his psychobabble.
“You know it’s a shame most people only know Freud. Considering he was a heavy cocaine user and defended child molesters.” Fynn raised an eyebrow and crossed his heavily inked arms.
“Says the man that drugged me. I knew you wouldn’t go for the deal. It seems hard for you to answer direct questions,” I said passively, hoping he would jump on my bait with the insult.
“I don’t have to do anything just because you want me to, Vanessa,” Fynn said with a slight smile that reminded me that I was playing games with a man with a few too many cards missing from his deck. “The things I do, I do because I want to. I could lock you in your room with the presents and refuse to let you out until you opened them.” His eyes seemed to lose focus as he watched a fantasy version of me inside his mind. “Watch you through the walls as you debate the indignity of pissing on the floor in the corner after a few hours.” He smiled like he would enjoy that just as much.
“You could have, but you chose to wrap them and place them under the tree instead. You want to do things civilly, but not because that pleases you most, but because you want me to like your presents,” I said with a smile. Psychology wasn’t my strong suit, but I was happy with the pieces I was able to puzzle together about his intentions. Of course, I could be entirely wrong.
“I will tell you what I choose about my childhood with Tanner and Colten,” Fynn said, as he seemed to find me again in the present. “The more gifts you open, the more talkative I may be,” Fynn said, grabbing several boxes from under the tree before tossing them onto the mattress.
“Fine,” I caved, feeling like that was the best I could get. There would be no way for me to know if Fynn was telling the truth in either his story or his deal.
My eyes slid to the first package Fynn tossed into my lap. The red and white stripes of the candy canes looked back at me while I tried to guess what he had picked out. I steadied the box with my left hand while slowly peeling the paper away. The box slid free from the rest of the loose wrapping with a few tape pulls.
