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“Call me back as soon as you have her.”
I stand there, my heart in my throat until he calls me back to tell me he’s got her safe on the shore, the staff wrapping her in towels.
I tell him to get her water with electrolytes to rehydrate her and recuperate her muscles.
What she was doing, going to the docks?
I’ll uncover the truth tonight.
Using any method I deem necessary.
fifteen
Lindy
I’ll walk down those stairs. He’ll be waiting for me. He’ll say something like, “You’ve come.” I’ll say, “Of course.” We’ll have dinner. We’ll dine and chat and sip wine just like always.
Then he’ll walk me back to the bottom of the stairs.
Kiss my cheek.
Give me to Apollo.
I’ll return to my room.
Caesar will be posted outside of my door.
Just like always.
Only tonight, instead of putting on my soft, sexy nightdress and crawling into bed, I’ll change into sneakers and black workout clothing. I’ve already chosen leggings and a long-sleeve hooded shirt. I hid them away with the small black backpack I packed for Angel. It’s not fair to bring her, to tear her from her cozy life, but I don’t feel certain he won’t toss her out with the feral cats.
I’ll step out the glass doors onto the balcony that faces the ocean. I’ll climb over the railing, and carefully make my way over the Spanish tile roof. There’s a tall, metal garden arbor that arches its way almost to the edge of the roof.
I’ll step down onto the top of the archway, climb down the metal rungs of the arbor.
Under the cover of darkness, I’ll then race over to the empty supply boat. It’s moored at the dock overnight, still there since the delivery earlier today. I’ll hide in one of the larger crates, pulling a tarp over myself. It will be a long night, but I know when the sun rises, one of the brothers will take the boat back to the mainland.
I’m sure the docks there are busy, bustling with tourists and fishermen. I should be able to escape the crate and find help, using my valuables to pay for assistance, and somehow get to the American embassy.
End of story.
I sit in my cushy white rolling chair, looking in the gold gilt mirror for the last time. I feel like the glam team can read my plan on my face as they swipe concealer under my eyes, coppery shadow over my lids.
I try to keep my mood light, chatting with them as I always do. The last thing I want is to alarm them or for them to pick up on my vibe, to sense that I’m on edge, to report the change in behavior to him.
Realizing how hard this is, to keep the glam team from suspecting anything is amiss, my stomach begins to churn, thinking how difficult it will be to have my usual banter with Damian tonight. Thinking of our light conversations cements my decision.
It’s so messed up that I spend every evening dining with and enjoying the company of my captor.
All the more reason to leave tonight before I become even more pathetic than I already am, laughing at his dry wit, eating his food, drinking his wine while he controls my every move. Pathetic. No more.
Tonight, it ends.
A makeup artist asks me, “You all right? You seem tense.”
Exactly what I don’t want. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just tired from that swim. It felt so good, but I went a little too far out.”
The woman taps powder eyeliner across my lash line. “Yes, we heard you were out there for an hour. You must be exhausted.”
