“Because there’s nothing we can do about it, so what’s the point in getting worked up?” I put my un-handcuffed hand on my hip. “I don’t agree with Rufus’s methods, but he’s right. You need to relax.”
“I don’t have time to relax.”
I doubt that’s true. He works in IT, doing—something. His job can’t involve working every evening and every weekend. More likely he doesn’t want to relax. If only I knew why.
“Well, now you do have time,” I say. “Stop fighting it and go with the flow.”
He glowers.
I press my thumb to his forehead and rub.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Trying to erase your frown. You’ll age yourself prematurely if you keep making faces like that.”
He narrows his eyes.
I tap my lips. “We need to think of relaxing ways to pass the time.” I stick my finger in the air. “I know.”
“What?”
“There’s no need to sound so distrusting.”
“What brilliant idea have you come up with?” Curiosity lightens his tone.
“A blow job. Me giving you one, obviously.”
His jaw drops. Does that mean he’s not into guys, that he doesn’t like me even a little, or that he wasn’t expecting me to say something like that?
“What? Hasn’t anyone ever offered you a blow job before?”
He rattles the handcuffs. “We need to get these off.”
That’s something we can agree on, although I am a little hurt that he wants to get away from me. Maybe offering him a blow job was a step too far? I only did it to make him laugh. I miss the sound of his laughter.
I gesture to the desk. “There might be some paperclips in one of the drawers.”
“What good will they do?”
“Don’t you watch TV or films? When the good guys inevitably end up kidnapped and handcuffed by the bad guys, they always find a random paper clip and use it to unlock the handcuffs.” I open a desk drawer and rifle through it. “Or they have one in their pocket. Maybe paperclips are standard FBI issue or something.”
“That’s not going to work.”
“How do we know until we try? Have you got any other ideas?”
“Is there a hacksaw anywhere?”
“I’m not letting you anywhere near me with a hacksaw. The paperclip will work. You’ll see.”
“You are so naive.”
“I prefer optimistic. Ah! Here’s one.” I bend it out of shape, like I’ve seen actors do on TV, and then put it into the lock on Jett’s cuffs and wiggle it around.
“Nothing’s happening.”
“Give me a moment. This isn’t as easy as it looks on TV.”
“No shit.”
