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CHAPTER 9 - ANNA
He left me in the cabin, and I thought about what he said, his warnings were nothing more than imaginary threats. Exactly what a captor would say, to keep me close, to keep me dependent on him. In the light, it would be easier to hike around the shoreline until I met some other house or a road or something. It seemed so easy, but when I opened the door, there was what must have been “Appy” on the porch.
A hunched over old woman who looked about 150, but I didn't dare ask her. She pushed by me and went to the stove, tried to grab the cast iron pan on top and I thought she would fall over with it, so I went to help her.
“Gratzi,” she said and smiled. And set it down to scrub it.
So this was my new captor. Marcus was right, I'd be too worried what would happen to her if I left her alone. But, the door was open.
“Sally,” she said and looked at me. “Sally?” in a thick Italian accent.
I pointed to myself and said, “Anna.”
“No, No, Sally! Certamente Anna. Sally!” She said and waived her arms, pointing at the shelf above the wood stove. “Salt!” she said, finally. I felt like an idiot, and got her the salt, which she poured in the pan and used it to scrub the pan until it was clean and the salt was dirty. She stood up, again about to fall over with the pan, so I went to help her and as soon as I had it, she moved around behind me, quickly for her, quick for anyone. She made the bed and straightened the rest of the room as I watched and tried to help and make sure she didn't hurt herself.
She was a whirlwind really, but when she was done. She smiled and said, “Ho finito.” And she pulled a book from under her dress, and motioned me to follow her outside. She pulled two chairs together and gave me the book and told me, “Forte. Parla Forte.”
The book had a pirate on the cover, and I already felt I didn't want to read this out loud to her in front of the lake. But she looked at me like an excited puppy, and she did just clean the house for me, sort of, so what could I do? I couldn't refuse her. She kept yelling at me, “Forte, Forte.” Which must have meant louder, but after saying, “love muscle” loudly three times I had enough of Appy, as sweet as she was.
Thankfully, a younger woman came by shouting, “Ma!” and words I couldn’t understand in a sweet flowing Italian. The old woman just put her hand in the air, and waived her off, “Bah.”
The young woman looked at me and spoke, “Sorry for her, she has no shame. I tried to get her a book on tape, but she turns it up so loud that they can hear it across the lake. What am I going to do with you” She leaned down and kissed Appy on the lips.
“I'm Tess.” She stuck her hand out to me, which I shook. “Marcus said he was going to look after her for me, but it looks like it was you instead. Thanks.”
“Anna,” I replied, stupidly.
“Well, I need to bring her back to take a nap, and give you a rest from her. But come visit. We're in cabin 4 over there behind the main one. I'm trapped in there with a toddler and Ma, so come over or give me an excuse to get out for a while.”
“Sure. Tess.” She smiled and walked away with her mother, who seemed to hear Italian better than English.
This place was busier than I thought. At least four cabins, maybe more. I was left alone, but the fact that this place didn't seem as bad as I had thought at first and the warnings Marcus gave that sounded plausible, I decided to lay down instead of escape. At least for now.
I still had the pirate book, but the fact that the picture in my head of the main character looked like Marcus made me want to throw the book across the room. It was no use reading it. I hated him for abducting me, for threatening me, but I couldn't exactly say I was disgusted by him. Especially how he looked coming out of the water, in the sun, or how hungry he looked when I came out of the water to fetch the soap from him.
I woke to his face above me, staring at me, he spoke, “I could help you with that.”
“With what?”
“That.” He said, pointing to the book laying on my stomach and my hand down the front of my pants.
Dammit.
I jumped away from him, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth.
I pushed him off me, “You promised you wouldn't rape me.”
“I know what I promised. And it doesn't seem like I'd have to. When we fuck, you'll want me as much as I want you. And you don't need this,” he took the book from the bed and threw it across the room, it fluttered open, and landed like a wounded bird on the wood stove, “when I'm right here.”
“That's not mine, and it was the only thing to do in here.”
“Not the only thing.” He grinned that wolfish grin. “But I did get you something to keep you busy for when I have to go away. Hope you like records and Italian music.” He pointed to a record player on the floor with a box of antique records next to it.
“For me?”
“It was but I’m not sure now.”
“I need something here.”
“OK, but I want something in return.”
“Not that, you promised.”
“You have a dirty mind. I like it. But no not that. Just a kiss. A good kiss.”
It was worth it. I went up to him and put my arms around his neck and planted one, on those soft lips, one he could remember. One I could feel in his pants, but just when I felt he had enough, he grabbed me, and kissed harder, his tongue in my mouth, and picked me up and started walking to the bed. I broke free again, “A kiss, that's all.”
“That's not all. That wasn't just a kiss.”
“You said a good kiss, so I gave you one, but that's all.”
“Goddamn it.” He growled and knocked over the stack of records and slammed the front door as he went out.
I almost felt sorry for him, but that was payback for not telling me about the shower. I went over to the pile of records, to gather them back up, and saw they all had price tags. $75, $200, some were even $500, all antique, rare records. He came back in the room, “You stole these didn't you?”
“Not really.”
“Did you kill or beat someone for them too?”
“I don't have to explain myself to you.”
“No, I know you did something awful for these. I'd rather not know. Take it away, I don't want it.”
“You didn't ask where I got the money for the donation, now did you?”
“If that was dirty it'll have to be returned.”
“Of course it was dirty. All my money is dirty. I made millions buying companies and dismantling them piece by piece. But that was perfectly legal. I formed companies to buy other ones, and when the deal went bad, the company declared bankruptcy and millions more were washed away. I was dirtier in my old line of work than this one. But if you have to know, this is from a guy who runs a music shop. A degenerate gambler, drug addict music shop owner who owed my half-brother Sal money and of course didn't have it. So instead of beating him or worse, I talked my half-brother into busting out his business. It's not much different from what I did on Wall Street, just much smaller potatoes. This guy has nothing, but his business has credit, so he orders a ton of inventory, we take the inventory and sell it off to pay ourselves back, and in the end he declares bankruptcy and goes out of business. Trust me, it's more humane than what Sal planned to do to him. This way he walks away, bankrupt and broke, but at least he can walk.”
“But you don't need the money.”
“No, but Sal does. His guys do. If it makes you feel better, I did pay for these, but I didn't pay full price. And you know what? After I handed him the money, he placed another set of bets with Sal. I'm the sucker here you should feel sorry for.” He left again, slamming the door.