“Here you go,” Maggie says, turning me around. “Have a seat on the sofa and make yourself comfortable.” She gives me a little shove until I sit down.
I practically collapse onto the soft cushion.
“Perfect.” She taps the back of my hand in a friendly gesture. “I’ll come back to collect you at the end of the evening.”
She must walk away, because all I hear is the soft click of the shutting door, followed by the more pronounced sound of a turning lock. Then, everything slips into absolute silence. Everything except the thundering of my heart. And my quavery breaths, exhaling into dead air. Being blind, I feel like I’m trapped in a tomb. Maybe one I’ll never be able to leave.
I strain to listen for…something. Anything. Steps?When is he coming?Am I just supposed to sit here and wait?Of course I am. Because some man paid ten grand for me to talk his ear off tonight.
I take a slow breath to try to calm my nerves. My stomach keeps twisting, insides swirling with fear over what’s going to happen next. The silence in the room is suffocating.How long has it been since Maggie left?
I turn my head from side to side. Stupid, because there’s nothing to see. I wipe my palms on the edge of the sofa cushion. My skin is starting to itch. I feel—
I feel someone else in the room. Some primal instinct deep inside is telling me I’m not alone. There’s someone close by. Watching. Studying his subject.
Me.
Without seeing a speck of light… Without hearing a whisper of sound… Ifeelhim.
The man who paid gobs of money for me to yabber nonsense at him. To fulfill his every weird desire.He. Is. Here.Right in front of me. Only a few feet away.
And I can’t make myself utter a single word.
I’m frozen on the couch, my spine plastered to the back of it. Without sight, it seems as if the rest of my senses are heightened. Hearing. Smell. Touch. Taste. Extrasensory perception? Right, my mind is just spinning in place. No. I’m definitely smelling…something. Too many different smells. There’s some alcohol nearby. Something…fruity, maybe with some spice mixed in. There’s also a hint of oil. Wax? Or wood polish? It reminds me of a product I use when I help with the cleaning at the Spada Estate. One that always makes my palms itch after. Andthen, there’s something else. The faintest trace of men’s cologne. Fresh but subtle.Him.
Myguestdoesn’t seem to favor a heavy fragrance. So many men, particularly the Italian guys I come in contact with day-to-day, do. They love the weighty perfumes that linger. I’ve gotten good at identifying the don’s visitors long after they’ve left.
This… It’s something clean. Crisp. Organic. It reminds me of an ocean breeze. Salty air. Miles and miles of warm sandy beach. Not that I’ve ever been there. But the scent envelops me all the same. It’s faint. Understated. Calming. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Nevertheless, it settles my nerves. Just a bit. I’m still feeling anxious, but that pure zesty scent somehow assures me that maybe…maybe everything will be alright. How could I know that? I should still be terrified. I’m locked in a room with a stranger. Blindfolded. Vulnerable. Yet, that slight smell of the ocean is keeping some of my fears at bay.
Who is this man? I wish I could see him. I wish I could be absolutely sure I’d be safe. None of that is possible, though. But there is something I can do.
Something Ihaveto do.
“You’re here. Aren’t you?”
I wait for an answer, remembering too late it won’t come.
“Um… I wish I knew your name. Or what you wanted to talk about. I don’t suppose you feel like telling me?” I smile, but I’m sure it looks strained. “Okay, well…I’m not really sure what I should say.” My voice peters out, so much so that I can barely hear it myself. “Maggie… She… She suggested I should maybe talk about…myself. Or maybe about the movies. I guess… Um… I think that might be a more entertaining topic, so…let’s start with that. Okay?”
I wait. Maggie did tell me that he didn’t want to speak, but I still kinda expect him to say…something.
I give it a few breaths, but nothing happens. Not a single sound comes from the direction of my guest. Only silence.
God, I hope I haven’t lost my mind. Sitting in this room, talking to myself.
“Okay,” I exhale, feeling silly and terrified at the same time. “Um…it was a series, actually. The last thing that I watched, I mean. British show. About a detective who was investigating the disappearance of a child. It was…good. I guess. They caught the bad guy and well…that’s all that matters.”
I pause again, expecting…a comment? Some kind of noise. Movement, maybe. A rustle of clothes. The clink of a glass when it’s set on the table. A cough.
There’s nothing.
“Before…” I continue. “Before that, my friend from next door invited me out to a movie. She had an extra ticket because her boyfriend bailed. We ended up seeing a silly rom-com. Evelyn really likes those. I don’t share her taste, but she was excited about it and didn’t want to go alone.”
Not a fricking peep.
“So…um…about that movie. Total chick flick. The girl in it was a magazine editor, I think, but got fired. However, she was invited to a wedding on some Greek island, and ended up sleeping with the best man. Turns out that the guy—the one she slept with—was the owner of the magazine where she used to work. Obviously, they fell in love in the end, and then he made her the editor-in-chief, or something. It was…cheesy. Like, super cheesy. The popcorn was great, though.”
Nothing but crickets.
