. . .
peony
Andy talks. And talks. Andtalks.
I didn’t realize my ex-boyfriend had so much to say. He’s gone on about how I betrayed him, how I’m a thankless whore, how he sacrificed so much for me. How devastated he was when I left, though I know that’s a lie. He wasn’t devastated about his girlfriend leaving him; he was devastated about losing a pet he could use and abuse how he saw fit. Without me, he has nobody left over whom to exert his power, and he needs to feel powerful to be content.
Eventually he grows tired of his rant and sits on the floor of the shack beside me. He looks like he’s gone through hell since I left, with his scraggly hair and patchy beard. I don’t know how I ever found this man attractive. How could I have ever loved someone so cruel on the inside?
Now that I’ve been with Rupert, I can’t stand evenlooking at Andy. Rupert is mine, all mine. I love him more than I thought I could ever love someone. With his tail and horns and fur—I adore all of it, which makes Andy especially repulsive now that I’ve known what it’s like to be cared for, truly loved, by someone.
Not to mention the kidnapping thing.
“You know, Peony, you owe me.” Andy puts an arm around my shoulders, and I wriggle to get him off, but he won’t let me go. “I took care of you for two years. Gave you a place to live.”
I wish I could spit on him. He didn’t take care of me—he kept me prisoner.
“So tell me about this new sugar daddy. He must be paying you well.” Andy lets out a derisive chuckle. “Driving around in his fancy car, going to the fancy grocery store. You must have the cash to spare.”
Andy’s hand creeps down my side, and shivers erupt across my skin. I think he’s going to grope me, but then it makes its way into the pocket of my peacoat, where my wallet is tucked away. Andy snatches it and pulls it out, and I squirm against the handcuffs.
He opens the wallet, revealing the two twenties and two fives I have tucked in it. I’m cautious about carrying around cash, leaning instead on my new debit card when I need to pay for something.
“Damn it,” Andy hisses. “I thought there’d be more!”
I let out a mocking hum into the tape around my mouth. He scowls, snatching the cash and hurling the wallet to the ground. At least he can’t take my money before he kills me.
Then, suddenly, Andy sits up straight.
“Wait. I know how to get it.” A big, wicked smile crosses his face. Picking up the wallet again, he pokes through ituntil he pulls out my debit card. “You’re going to get it for me. Aren’t you?” His hand falls again to the gun in his pocket. I may not know much about guns, but that seems like a pretty stupid place to put one.
I still can’t answer through the duct tape, but I do give him a solid, deadly glare. He wants to get into my bank account, too? Just when I’d saved up the cash to move out on my own, it’s all going to be taken away again. But maybe if I give him what he wants, he’ll let me go.
I need to see Rupert again. I wanted to meet Kellen’s boyfriend. I was going to cook that dinner and show off to Stella just how well I’m doing without her help.
Closing my eyes, I finally nod. If that’s all he wants from me, he can have it, especially if it means leaving this murder shack. No money is worth my blood.
“Thatta girl,” Andy says, thumping my back. He whips a key out of his pocket and unlatches the handcuffs. Yanking me up from my sitting position on the floor, he snaps the handcuffs back on and leads me out of the little shack, back to his truck. He has to lift me up to get me into it, since I can’t climb up on my own, and he makes sure to toss me in like a dog.
Then we’re driving again, and I’m hoping against hope that all he wants is the money. I can’t wind up in a ditch after how hard I worked to get away from him in the first place, I just can’t.
It’s a short trip into Tennysville, and Andy guides the truck into the little gas station on the edge of town. I give him a perplexed look, but he just rolls his eyes.
“ATM,” he says, then leans toward me, peeling up the end of the duct tape around my mouth. “Can’t go inside like that, can we?”
I grit my teeth, because it would be so easy to scream the moment we got inside. But Andy’s all over it, walking around to the passenger seat and removing my handcuffs around my wrists. He helps me down, then stands right behind me, pressing the barrel of his gun into my lower back.
“Ready?” he asks cheerily.
I have nothing to say to him, so I don’t answer as we head inside the gas station. Andy guides me with the gun, keeping it under my cardigan, toward the ATM in the back.
“Go on. Put it in.” He passes me the wallet with his free hand, and I fish out my debit card. Slipping it into the slot, I enter my pin, then the option screen pops up.
“Show me the balance,” Andy demands, and I do as I’m told, bringing up my total bank account balance: $17,216.
What? That’s way more money than I remember seeing on my pay stubs. It’s the most money I’ve ever had to my name in my life, even back when I worked at the restaurant. Then, I lived paycheck to paycheck just to afford rent in the city.
How did this happen? Did Rupert deposit it along with my paycheck? I wonder if it’s some kind of golden parachute he left for me.
