Page 69 of Monk
Xavier looks at me again, the contempt on his face clearer than ever. He spits on the floorboards beneath his feet and looks at Spencer.
“You need to handle your bitch,” he says. “I don’t want her actin’ up like this when Mr. Zavala gets here.”
He gives me one final withering look, then walks out of the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. Spencer turns back to me, a strange look on his face.
“He’s everything you want to be, isn’t he?” I ask.
“Shut up or I’ll give you more of what he just gave you.”
I scoff. “You don’t have the balls, Spencer. You may talk tough when you’re around guys like him, but I know who you really are. I know what a coward you are.”
“I’m warning you, Kasey. Don’t push me.”
A wicked smirk crosses my lips as he stares me down. All I need to do is keep pushing him and get him to snap. The thing about Spencer is that when he gets to a certain point, when he’s flustered and pissed off, he makes stupid mistakes. And if I can push him far enough, I may get him to do something stupid and give me a chance to get the hell out of here.
“Do you know why I fucked that biker last night?” I ask.
“Because you’re a whore?”
“Because I wanted to feel what it was like to be with a real man for a change. And let me tell you, it was good. It wasreallygood. He did things to me I never knew—”
“Kasey, you will shut your fucking mouth right now if you know what’s good for you.”
“In all the time we were together, I never came as hard as I did last night. Or as many times,” I muse. “But then, if I’m being honest, you never actually made me cum, so…”
Spencer is out of his seat and coming at me in a heartbeat. I brace myself and wait for it. And just as his arm is lashing out toward me, I throw myself at him, knocking him backward and we topple into the table in a heap of sprawling limbs. The table crashes as it turns over and I twist my body, contorting myself under him to land on the phone he dropped.
The breath is driven from my lungs when he lands on me, but I bear it. As he scrambles to get off me, I quickly shove the phone down to the front of my pants as I get to my feet in one smooth motion. Spencer grabs me by the arm and slaps me. If he’s trying to be like X, he’s got a long way to go. I’ve slapped myself harder than that. But he scowls and positions himself in front of me like he’s a big man who’s just put me in my place.
But I need to play the part, so I cower and duck my head, acting as if he’s just hit me hard enough to make me submit. Throwing my hands up as if to ward off another blow, I cut a glance at him, doing my best to look terrified.
“I’m sorry, Spencer. Please don’t hit me again. I’ll behave,” I cry.
He flexes like he’s thinking about hitting me again, a slow, satisfied smile on his face.
“I trust you learned your lesson. I’d hate to have to repeat it,” he says. “Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy being this rough with you, but you made me do this, Kasey. You pushed me to this point and brought this on yourself.”
I nod, doing my best to look submissive. “I know. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry.”
The key to managing Spencer is something I learned a long time ago. Most of the time, I haven’t cared enough to expend the effort, but I’ve always known how to make Spencer more compliant. All it takes is some gentle stroking of his ego. Letting him think he’s in control.
“I won’t push you again, Spencer. I promise.”
“See that you don’t,” he says as he smooths his hair back into place.
I make a show of touching my bloody lip as I put on my most pitiful expression as I look up at him.
“Can I please use the restroom to clean myself up? I ask.
He sighs, looking entirely put out. “Fine. Hurry up.”
Still keeping my head ducked down, looking like a whipped dog, I hustle to the door he’s pointing at and close it behind me. Gritting my teeth, I turn the lock as slowly and quietly as I can.
When I’ve sealed myself inside, I run to the window and frown at the narrow opening, through which it will be hard for me to squeeze, but if I have some time and a bit of luck, I might be able to do it. Sometimes, being a small girl has its advantages. Standing on the edge of the toilet, I look out the window, searching for landmarks.
I don’t know the area all that well anymore, but I’m hoping that something will jog my memory and tell me where I’m at. The adrenaline is flowing through me fast and thick, making my heart race. Beads of sweat roll down my back, making my t-shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin.
Not seeing anything useful at first, I’m just about to give up when my eyes fall upon an old, weathered statue of a deer. I almost don’t notice at first because it’s breaking down and moldering, and only vaguely resembling a deer. But it’s enough to give my memory the kick I need to tell me where I’m at.
