The Woman in the Trunk

"I, ah, yeah." I needed to find a way out. Or find a way to incapacitate him, so I could take the elevator down and run. It wasn't hard to get lost in the city. And once I did that, I could figure out my next move. But no one said I couldn't clean up first. I felt gross and sticky from the car ride. I needed to brush my teeth.

"Alright, come on," he said, walking into the hall, waiting for me to follow him into his room.

His bedroom was unnecessarily massive, dominated by a California king-size bed with black bedding, heavy black drapes, and doors open to a bathroom and a walk-in closet that made me want to weep.

"Would you rather a tee or something heavier?"

"Since you keep the air set to arctic, I think I will take something heavier," I told him as he ducked into the closet, coming back with a red sweatshirt that likely fit him normally, but was going to be a dress on me. Which was good. I wanted to be as covered as possible. Being in booty shorts and a tank around a strange man whose intentions weren't guaranteed, it would be nice not to feel so on display.

"Your bathrooms should have everything you need. Toothbrush, paste, soap. Anything else you need, let me know. What do you want to eat?"

"Something that didn't start as a frozen patty," I said, still having a bit of heartburn from that awful meal.

"Think I can handle that," he agreed, giving me a tired, forced smile.

With that, I went back into the hall, into my temporary room, closing and locking the door.

The shower was calling my name, but I didn't immediately move in that direction. I stood just inside the door, pressing my ear to the crack, listening as Lorenzo walked into the main area.

He seemed to immediately reach for his phone.

"Yeah, it's done. I need you to pick it up from me. Yeah. That would be good. Tomorrow. For a few hours, so I can get some shit done. Okay yeah. Thanks."

It sounded like he was leaving the next day for a few hours. Maybe that would be a good time to explore things, find the second way out. Or maybe distract the guard for long enough to take the elevator down.

After that, he made a call to some restaurant, seeming to walk closer to the kitchen as he did so, making his words difficult to make out. Not that it mattered. I wasn't picky. And I was starving.

With that, I made my way into the bathroom, finding all white subway tiles in the shower stall with an assortment of small shampoos, conditioners, and soaps.

Locking the door, I stripped out of my old clothes, jumping in the water, keeping my eyes on the door the entire time, paranoia a skittering sensation inside as I rushed through my shower, quickly tried off, and slipped into the massive sweatshirt that swallowed me up entirely, coming down to my knees, obscuring anything beneath even resembling a body.

When I finally emerged from the room, Lorenzo was no longer alone, but accompanied in the main space by another man around his age, but a little shorter, a little less handsome, at least for my taste.

"Giana, this is Christopher. Christopher, Gigi. He is going to be one of the guards you will see stationed here."

"Even when you're here?" I asked, feeling the window to escape getting smaller and smaller, possibly too small to squeeze through no matter how small I might try to make myself.

"I'm going to need to sleep sometimes. And I can't have you walking around, looking for things to bash people over the head with," Lorenzo said, smirking. "Alright. Introductions made. Gigi, you're as safe with Christopher as you are with me. I am going to go catch a shower, too. By then, the food should be here."

And, what? We were going to eat together like some warped house guest fantasy?

I bit my tongue on those words, though, figuring I would get much further if he thought I was accepting of my fate, that I was calm about it. Then he might look away for a moment. Possibly even long enough for me to escape.

"You'll be fine, kid," Lorenzo assured me before turning and walking into his room.

With the door left open, I could see the breadth of his strong back as he pulled off his shirt on his way to his bathroom.

Embarrassed that I looked, that I maybe even ogled a bit, I turned back to face Christopher, finding him stationed in front of the elevator, gaze averted.

"It doesn't bother you, to have to play babysitter?" I prodded him, making my way toward the kitchen, going to the fridge. I'd used my hands to cup handfulls of water to my lips in the bathroom, but I was still dying of thirst. And if Lorenzo wanted me to play houseguest, I was going to make myself at home.