Sleeves (14 page)

“I don’t . . . What am I supposed to do? I go off fact, and I trust you to a point but—”

“Here—take a look at this.” He removed his right shoe and hooked his ankle up over his left knee. “See the bottom of my foot? It’s all scratched up, right?”

She briefly looked over, nodded then her eyes went back to the road.

“How long ago do you think this happened?”

She blinked and shifted forward in her seat. Was she uncomfortable with this? Why?

“A week ago?”

“Last night. When I was chasing after your ass, I was barefoot and when I cornered too quickly and almost laid out my bike, I used my foot to right myself, and cut it up in the process. My other foot got hit, too, but not as badly. All I did when I got back was clean it with soap and bandage it, but nothing special.”

“And what kind of proof do I have that it happened last night?”

“Come into my home. Check the garbage can in the bathroom. You’ll see the bandages right on top, and you’ll be able to see the blood’s fairly fresh.”

“That’s not—”

“Okay, then ask Max. Ask him what I looked like when I went back out in that cage; if I had bandages on my feet at that point. You know I didn’t have them on earlier when you were in the cage with me. And when he laid me down on my bed in my apartment, did you see my feet looking all chewed up then?”

“Well, no, but I—”

“But you fucking
what
, huh? You can’t believe me because it’s easier to believe I have some serious mental illness? Jesus fucking Christ! You talked to me, you touched me like I was normal, but then you can’t believe this part. Why?”

Her hands roamed down the steering wheel. “I don’t know. I guess if I knew more, maybe it would be easier to keep from being skeptical.” She offered a half shrug with her right shoulder.

“Cut me then. Watch how fast I heal.”

“No! I’m not gonna do that to you!”

“Do it. You can even pick a spot where no one’s likely to see it.” He bared his teeth at her. “I want you to.”

“I don’t care what you want. That’s sick, Kel, and I don’t do shit like that. Not now; not ever.” The vein in her neck throbbed and her face pinked with irritation.

“Fine. Don’t believe me. Maybe my super sperm will find a way to grow back your ovaries, you’ll be pregnant and then you’ll believe me.”

She reached out and shoved him. “That’s not funny.”

“Neither is you refusing to believe me.” He grabbed her right hand and cupped it between both of his palms. “Please, I need you to see I’m telling the truth.”

She swallowed hard, her nostrils flared and she chomped on her bottom lip. “I’m trying,” she finally said.

“Good. That’s what I want—you trying and not being a know-it-all-bitch.”

She snorted. “Yeah; that’s my occupation according to you.”

He smiled and bobbed his head. “But here’s the thing—why would I want to lie about all this?”

Her expression went blank.

“What would it get me, other than maybe being hauled off and sent to the crazy place for insane people? I would never have a hope again of getting laid, and I’d spend the next few years I have left, being poked and prodded, and not in any of the good places on my body.”

She swallowed once more, and the car went silent. No one was breathing, blinking or moving.

The music playing was all there was, and that had been turned down, so it was subdued.

“Take me home.” He turned back away. Pointless.

This whole thing had been a waste of both their time.

The rest of the drive remained suffocating in its unnatural silence.

One of the things he’d enjoyed about her up until now was how fun it was talking to her.

She always had something intelligent and thoughtful to say, even when she was dealing with his smart mouth. Which was most of the time . . .

And she handled that aspect really well. Damn, he really liked this woman.

Before exiting the car when she pulled up in the back of the club, he leaned over and said, “Just remember—not all men are assholes. Usually the ones that act like it are protecting a deep well of pain. The rest of them—well, there’s no telling what they’re really hiding if they’re acting like the good guy.”

He got out, shut the door and let his heart drop as he walked back into his drab existence and self-inflicted cage.

At least he could be touched here in some way without worrying his heart would break.

* * *

The next week dragged on.

No Casey, and none of her friends either.

He kept thinking she’d show up unannounced, call him or send some signal she wanted to talk to him.

Hell, at this point, he almost wished Doctor Jeffries had turned him in and they’d taken him away. Casey probably would’ve come to his aid, and that would’ve been better than this silence bullshit.

It was Friday. Tonight would be crawling with women.

Last weekend’s blowup by him seemed to increase business to his and Max’s shock.

Drinks had flowed, the women were especially horny and eager to touch him, but it hurt more than usual when their flesh contacted his.

He refused to let his cock free. They could grope his chest, even stroke him through his jeans, or touch his hands, but that was it.

That was all he did anymore. He slept, he was fawned on and then he drank.

The rest of what he did during the week was a blur. He received groceries at some point, and maybe talked to Max a little bit about an idea for adding more props to his cage act.

Whatever. He barely heard a word.

All he could focus on was how nobody really saw him. No one gave a fuck if it hurt him when they groped his ass or balls. Did they even notice when he winced and hissed in pain?

Probably not.

Casey had noticed all those things, but she didn’t want him. Too much of a repulsive freak.

It was four forty-five, and the bitches would be here in fifteen minutes.

He closed the curtains, tossed himself in the cage, locked it and then pocketed the key.

No more allowing Max to control any of this. It was
his
body—
his
rules.

He stared at the various sleeves he hadn’t used in weeks, sitting on the small table.

Probably wouldn’t use them tonight either. What was the point? He couldn’t come.

He’d pass out again, and the show would be over.

He kicked the chains at his feet, and his eyes narrowed as he studied them.

How many times had he broken these?

How many more times would he?

It never seemed to get old for these ladies. And no matter how hard they tried to free him and failed, they never gave up trying.

They never seemed to figure out he had super-human strength and busting out of them was second nature to him.

Not like the really thick chains he grew up in. Those fuckers never broke.

But the ones he donned here were the flimsy, ordinary ones bought at a local hardware store. Nothing special about them.

He sat down and slumped over in his chair, his insides more hollow than the space occupying this cage.

Why couldn’t he get over her already? It wasn’t like he’d known her for very long.

He sighed. His eyes glazed over as he thought about her some more, and what he’d felt like simply being near her.

What was he still doing this act for? He wanted touch, and she gave it to him better than anyone else ever had. His heart thrummed in his chest, and his skin tingled over the idea of her hands on him once more.

He knew where Casey lived. Why not visit her? But then . . . she knew where he was as well, and she hadn’t stopped by to see him.

Fuck—he wouldn’t go because there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to grovel. She either believed him or she didn’t, and there was no way to change the know-it-all-bitch’s mind.

His head bent down.

How much longer?

He could hear faint voices at the doorway, and imagined it was Casey trying to gain early entry so she could talk to him, say hi at least.

He smeared his sweaty hands over his face.

Jesus, he reeked. He hadn’t even bothered to change his shirt after binge drinking this afternoon and slopping some of it on himself

At least he wasn’t drunk anymore so Max wouldn’t be pissed at him, but already he wished he was hammered. How was he going to stand their hands on him tonight? No matter how much he needed it, the thought was repellent.

What was wrong with him? This shit never bothered him before.

“Hey, I was sitting there,” a woman said, presumably to some other bitch. It came from right outside the curtain.

Some hags were fighting over seats at the front table already? Jesus, this night sucked hairy balls already.

He rocked back and forth in his chair, anxious to get this over with.

All too soon, Max was announcing him and the curtain was pulled back.

Kel blinked away the blinding light echoing in his vision for a moment and then scanned the room for some ditsy blonde he could pick out as his willing victim. At least then he wouldn’t be turned on and could deal with her better.

His eyes passed over every woman he saw until they landed on the bar, and he croaked out, “You! In the cage—
now
!”

It was Casey’s friend—the dark-haired one. Was her name Maggie? Or Melony?

She rolled her eyes and was sluggish as she shuffled over to him.

“I’m not coming inside,” she said, gripping the bars.

“You’ll fucking come in, or I’ll drag you in by the cunt, you little slut.”

She smirked. “Is that right? What if I fight back? What will you do then?”

“Care to find out?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and he walked over to the door then unlocked it.

“He’s not even chained,” some stupid woman in the audience hollered.

“Fuck you,” he groaned.

“That’s the point! We want you to,” another woman heckled him as well.

He shook his head and ignored them.

“Well?” He cocked his head at Casey’s friend.

The dark-haired woman held out a folded up note. “I’m supposed to give this to you,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Is she
here
?”

“What do
you
think?” She dangled the note in front of him, urging him to take it.

He snagged it out of her hand and slipped it into his pocket. “This woman’s afraid of me!” he called out.

“Booooo! Get her out and away from there, then,” someone said.

“You heard them—get the fuck away from my cage, bitch.” He pursed his lips and gave her a cool look.

She glared at him, then went back to the bar.

He paced, glowering at her friend,
Maddening
—his new name for her since he wasn’t about to ask her what it really was.

In the next moment he ripped his shirt off. He clanked his fingers against the bars but kept his eyes glued on her.

Maddening simply sat there, staring back. She drank and chatted with Max, but she was calm and undisturbed by the aggressive acts Kel displayed in his cage.

He huffed, gripped the bars, stood there for several moments peering into her impassive face.

His chest built up in pressure and became so tight he couldn’t bear it anymore. “Ahhhhhh!” he screamed.

He picked up his chair and threw it at the cage. He picked up his water, chucked it at her, but it hit the bars, busted and splashed the women at the first table.

Instead of cowering away from him, the women catcalled and begged him to rip the rest of his clothes off.

So he did. He yanked his jeans off and stood there in nothing but his black boxer briefs, his chest bursting in flames and his heart pounding so loud he could hear what sounded like ocean waves in his ears.

Max turned up the pumping music, making the atmosphere more charged.

Kel clawed at his chest, stroked his cock through the material and howled at Maddening over and over.

He climbed up the cage bars and hung from the top like some crazed gorilla.

How could she do this to him? How could she be here and act like none of it mattered?

Where was Casey, the know-it-all-bitch that acted like she cared and then dismissed him like he was trash?

He landed with a thud when he grew tired of hanging from the bars.

His eyes never came off Maddening though. If Casey was here, she’d show some hint of it.

He grunted, scraped his chair back to upright.

Then he grabbed one of the sleeves, motioned for a redhead at the front table, slightly damp from his water bottle exploding, and she jumped to her feet, scampering over to him.