dazed & distracted

Warren laughed - actually laughed! - at her resignment, leaving the defenseless banana free to live another day. As he regained his guarded posture, he thought about walking over and stabbing the fruit himself, just out of instinct, to show her he was to be taken seriously. He didn’t, though. Which was strange, even to him. 

He didn’t feel the need to show his dominance over Clara. She was as harmless as a kitten, and though she didn’t seem smart enough to actually push his buttons, she was smart enough that he could tell she was trying to be a minor annoyance. It didn’t bother him one bit, though. It took a whole lot more than just eating some of the dinner’s ingredients before it was cooked to really strike a nerve with him. 

He didn’t react in the slightest when her phone buzzed, because honestly, what harm could a notification that was probably an e-mail from Zappos really do? 

However, when she slammed her phone down on the countertop, his eyes jolted in the direction of the sound. This was Clara, innocent, too-nice-to-kill-a-banana Clara! What was so upsetting that she would make her have even the smallest of physical outbursts? Feeling a protective wave wash over him, (which he convinced himself was just because he didn’t like it when his property was messed with) he nodded his chin in the direction of her phone. “Something I should know about that’s upsetting you, princess?” He asked, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

    Clara sighed, flipping her phone back around to look at the message again.  “There’s this guy I work with.  Eli.  He’s a little too into me for comfort,” she said.  She held out the phone for him to see.

    [from: Eli 5:49pm] Hey, beautiful.  Didn’t see you at lunch today.  We’ll have to make up for it by going to dinner sometime ;)

    Clara made a face somewhere between disgust and annoyance.  “I’ve told him multiple times that I’m not interested in him in that way but he’s persistent.”  She grabbed for another piece of carrot and munched on it absentmindedly.  “One time I told him I had a boyfriend and he seemed to back off but one of my other coworkers told him it wasn’t true so now he’s trying even harder to get with me.”  Clara forced a smile.  “You wanna beat him up for me?  That might get him to stop,” she said, jokingly.

Warren wasn’t sure why he was keeping Clara. She wasn’t needed to help around the house and she did little but there was something in the back of his mind that told him she was important. Hell, maybe it was because she was pretty and a little more than awkward. He found it strangely charming, which wasn’t a word he used often gang leaders don’t really find anything ‘charming’ He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her as she ate more of the produce.

He had been seasoning a piece of chicken for tonight’s dinner when she suggested he give her a knife, and he actually started to laugh. “You couldn’t stab a banana without feeling bad. I doubt you could ‘cut a bitch’” He pointed a spice covered finger in her direction “You do make a good point though,, and after all, you are a damsel in distress, Princess. You need rescuing from the big bad wolf.” He flashed her a smile, one that was a little less guarded. 

He lowered his voice slightly. “But I don’t like putting my assets on the line.” He kept his eyes glued to the stove, where he fidgeted with the knobs, adjusting the heat unnecessarily. He didn’t want to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, that he liked the company in the house.  

“That’s not true!  I could stab a banana,” Clara said.  She looked at the bananas on the counter and was about to get up to grab one when she realized he was most definitely right.  She’d feel awful stabbing a banana - it hadn’t done anything to deserve it.  “Okay, you’re right.  I can’t do it.”

She thought to tell him that she didn’t think she really did need saving from him.  He wasn’t as awful and scary as she thought he would be.  In fact, she liked him quite a bit.  He was nicer to her than almost half the people in her life, including some of her own family members.  But then she figured he probably didn’t want to hear that so instead she just smiled back at him because he looked so cute when he smiled like that.  “Then I guess I’ll remain jobless,” she said.

While his back was turned, Clara’s phone buzzed with a text message from Eli, a coworker that was borderline obsessed with dating her.  She made a frustrated sound and slammed her phone on the counter, display screen down.  “Sorry,” she said, cringing at how loudly she hit the marble.  “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Warren instantly regretted giving her the knife the moment he handed it over. Not because he feared for his own life, but rather, he feared for hers. If she could burn down a house with a toaster who knew what she could do with a knife.

He snuck peeks at her out of the corner of his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval. It was like baking cookies with a child, no matter what you knew you were going to end up missing more dough than not. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but it took a lot less than a few missing carrots to push him over the edge.

He stifled a laugh as she spoke, her voice muffled from carrots she had stuffed in her mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” He sighed, before walking over to the fridge and pulling out some more produce. “Try to save more for later and less for right now. Do you think you can handle that?” He asked, half tempted to lean down to her level, hands on knees like he was talking to a child.  

“I’ll try but I can’t be held responsible for my actions when I’m hungry,” Clara said, smiling sweetly at Warren as she popped yet another piece of carrot in her mouth.  It was weird joking with him.  It was weird talking to him.  Most of the time, they both kept to themselves.  That seemed to be working for them so far, though Clara did find it a little lonely.  And, if she was being honest, it was sometimes worrying.  What if he got bored with having her around, doing nothing, and decided protecting Jeffrey wasn’t worth the effort?

“You know,” she said suddenly.  “You could give me a knife more often.  I could definitely cut a bitch.  Definitely.”  She sliced into a pepper.  “Before you say anything, I already know I’m full of it and could never do that.  But I could, I don’t know, lure someone or something.  Like bait.  Who’s gonna believe you and I are connected in any way?  Plus, I’ve got that whole damsel in distress look about me.  Just...in case you needed to give me a purpose of some sort.  I guess you could keep that in mind.”

The thought of luring someone to their possible death was absolutely sickening to Clara but she’d do it if it meant protecting her brother.  She’d do just about anything.

Warren looked up at her, startled by her sudden appearance. He hadn’t even heard her open her bedroom door, though that wasn’t really surprising to him. When he cooked, the entire world got shut out, it was one of the few things he drew comfort from. He had been in the process of making some stir fry for dinner when she approached. 

“Well, I don’t really want you burning the kitchen down, but I guess you could help cut vegetables?” He responded, remembering what she had said before about her cooking habits. He placed a cutting board on the counter adjacent to him and started passing over the produce.

Clara grabbed a giant knife from the knife block and waved it around wildly.  “Yes, I definitely should be in charge of using this,” she said.  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll stab you or something?  Kill you and then run away forever?”  But as she said it, she sat down at the counter and started cutting up carrots.  They both knew she’d never do that.

Every time she cut a few pieces, she ate one or two until she was almost done cutting the carrots and only had half of what she’d started with.  “I don’t think you’re gonna have enough,” she said, mouth slightly full.  She was being stupid.  She knew that.  It wasn’t a good idea to press the buttons of someone who could probably kill her with his bare hands.  But she wanted to test her boundaries and see just how far she could go.  At least she had a knife to protect herself incase things when wrong.

“Hey,” she greeted as she entered the kitchen.  “Need any help?”

Warren shook his head as she offered to clean and pay for things, shutting her down immediately. “I have people who do the cleaning, and I have plenty of money to take care of whatever you need.” He explained, saying nothing more. He wasn’t keeping her so that she could scrub the floors or help pay for groceries. This wasn’t why he had brought her here. To be honest, though, he hadn’t figured out what he planned to do with her just yet. He justified her being here by saying it would be payment for her brother’s protection, a life for a life. Besides, he could find something for her to do eventually. “Right now the only things you do are go to work, come back, and stay out of the way until I say otherwise.” He said nothing more.

He cocked an eyebrow at her little statement, a smug smirk resting on his lips. He stood and walked closer to her, placing a finger under her chin, guiding her eyes to his face. “This is distracting, princess?” He questioned, gesturing to his chiseled chest and abs. He backed off, his smug expression staying in place. He ignored her request for him to put on a shirt got ready to give her the tour she asked for. He had to make sure she knew where she was and wasn’t allowed to go, so he figured it would be best to get it out of the way now, besides it was getting kind of late and after such a long day he was ready to shower and get into his bed. He nodded his head in the direction of the hallway as if to tell her to follow him.

He pointed in the direction of a few rooms. “Bathroom, laundry room,” He passed a few without saying a word. “Don’t bother with those, they’re locked.” Finally, he came to the big room at the end of the hall. “This is my room. It’s off limits. I find out you’ve been in here without my permission and your brother is dead meat.” He explained bluntly. He then gestured to the room adjacent “This room can be yours, I guess.” He nudged the door open with the toe of his shoes, revealing the canopy bed and fireplace. He hadn’t really put much thought into where she would be staying since he had only found out he would be keeping her a few hours before, but he knew he wanted to keep her close, somewhere he could keep an eye on her. This room would do. It wasn’t up for negotiation.

Clara was about to ask Warren about her friends - couldn’t she still go out with her friends, as long as she came back after?  They were bound to get suspicious if she kept blowing them off since that wasn’t like her at all.  But then she remembered the blood on his shirt and she quickly forced the thought from her mind.  She’d bring it up another time, maybe.

The way he touched her, forcing her to look at him, stirred something in Clara that she was trying her best to deny was there.  She could not be attracted to him.  Not only was she literally his prisoner, he was a known criminal.  A gang leader.  A killer, probably.  And she was a pre-school teacher who rocked a lot of polka dots and spent a lot of time around glitter.  She was meant to be with someone boring, like another teacher or a librarian.  She couldn’t have feelings for Warren.  Mr. Archer, she told herself.  Just call him Mr. Archer.  Don’t personalize it.

“Do you have someone who cooks, too?” she asked as they passed the kitchen.  “I’m absolutely awful at cooking.  I once left a pot of water on the stove and it all evaporated and I ruined the pan.  I’ve set toast on fire more times than I’m willing to say because it’s an embarrassingly huge number.”  Why the fuck was she telling him this?  Why couldn’t she shut up?  She should’ve just asked about a chef and left it at that.

Walking through the house, she peered at the locked doors.  She couldn’t help but wonder what was in those rooms.  Bodies?  A secret collection of Beanie Babies?  Both?  When they got to his room she wanted to peak inside.  What could a gang leader’s room possibly look like?  Maybe he had the head of people he killed mounted on the walls, like hunters did with deer.  God, that’d be fucked up.  She was suddenly glad she couldn’t see inside.  She didn’t really want to know.

Warren opened the door to the room that was to be hers and she braced herself for something awful.  She figured it’d be small and sparse and ugly and maybe have some weird torture equipment in the corner and locks that could only be opened from the outside so she’d be trapped in the tiny room for hours.  But it was nicer than her room at home.  Bigger, too.  “I’ve been in the wrong profession my whole life,” she said, stepping inside.  The bed and the furniture were beautiful.  There was more closet space in the room than in her entire house.  “You just had this all ready to go?  Who sleeps here?  Women you take home?”  Fuck, she was babbling again.  Shut up, Clara!  “Sorry.  I’m just nervous.  Transitions can be scary, am I right?”  She forced a laugh.  “God, I’m sorry.  I’ll shut up.”

Warren wasn’t quite sure where to go from his meeting with Clara earlier, so he busied himself with other things, dealing with debt and troublemakers and those who, like Clara, came to him in need, asking for money, protection, drugs. This was an everyday thing for him, and to come home with a blood-spattered shirt was nothing out of the ordinary. When he walked in and saw her stand, notebook falling to the floor, he carefully walked over and leaned down to pick up the dropped item, being careful to not get any blood on the book, before turning it over so he could read the fine printed script on the page. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” He said, as his eyes scanned over the bullet points, and then shoved the book back in her hands. He took off his bloody shirt so he wouldn’t make a mess of the couch and used it to wipe his hands before throwing it somewhere behind the sectional. He took a seat and leaned back ran his hands through his hair and over his face, trying to dust off the nasty feeling of a hard day of work. He knew it was peculiar to see him like this, relaxed, but he was so used to the mess of blood and after his tough exterior melted away after work, he knew there were still a few things to get done before he could fully relax: her questions needed to be answered. “I’ll get you the address, but don’t be giving it out to anyone, especially not cops, otherwise your brother is dead meat.” He said coldly, his eyes closed. He exhaled and then looked her in the eyes “You will stay here for as long as I want you here, or until you’ve repaid your brother’s debt, and you can tell your friends whatever you want, except the truth.” He smirked a little. “Though I doubt you’re dying to tell them that your brother is on the drug cartel’s hit list.” He kicked off his shoes. “I usually have someone do the grocery shopping, you can add to my list and it’ll arrive and be put away before we wake up. Write down whatever you need. Shampoo, toothpaste, whatever. Money isn’t an object, as you can see.” He said, gesturing to the fine house surrounding them. “As for your brother, I have a few men keeping eyes on him at all times, a couple of spies on the inside of the drug cartel who know when and how to warn us if he’s in trouble. If we need to move him somewhere safe, you’ll be the first to know.” He nodded. “Does that answer all of your questions, princess, or is there more to this interrogation?” He smirked at her.

Clara watched every movement, every step and every breath, very carefully.  The story she concocted in her mind about the kicked puppy was getting harder and harder to hold on to as he approached her.  She remained still, as if this might make her invisible to him.  After reading her questions, he forced the small journal back into her hands so forcibly that she almost dropped it again from the shock.  And then, when she looked up to find him shirtless on the couch, she did drop it.  Her face turned red as she scrambled to pick it up.  Why did he have to look like that?  Why couldn’t he have a beer belly and big, ugly tattoos?

She listened to every answer, nodding along to show she was listening.  She almost snorted when he told her not to tell the cops or her friends.  No one would ever believe her and Jeffrey would never back her up if it meant putting his own life on the line.  No, she most certainly wouldn’t be telling anyone anything.  It wouldn’t be worth it.

“I’ll pitch in,” she said about the groceries.  “It would feel weird living somewhere and not helping pay for things.  I can help out around the house, too.  I don’t mind cleaning.”  Idiot.  She was a fucking idiot.  What kind of prisoner paid their captor?  And then offered to clean his fucking house?  She damned every good manner and nice bone residing in her body.

“To be completely fair, you interrogated yourself.  I never asked the questions, you just answered them,” she pointed out.  “Sorry.  That was probably rude.  I’m just a little on edge.”  She shifted her weight from foot to foot.  “I guess the only thing left would be a tour.  Or, at least, if you could show me where my room is.  I’d like to get settled if I can.  But would you mind putting a shirt on?  It’s...distracting.”

Clara shoved her things in her trunk and, with a final glance at her home, she pulled out of the driveway.  She followed behind Chris’s car until they pulled into the driveway of Warren’s place.  It was huge - bigger than her house or the houses of any of her friends.  It was pretty much exactly what she would have expected it to be.  Clara parked her car and silently followed the strange man into this new place she would be living - she was reluctant to call it “home”.

Chris led Clara into a large living room.  One wall was made of windows from floor to ceiling and she secretly was excited to see the view of the back when the sun was out.  She was instructed to sit on the couch and wait for Warren to come home while his men went to her car to unpack her things.  Clara did as she was told.  While she waited, she pulled out her little journal that she carried in her purse and began to write down questions she had for Warren.

Address of house? (need to forward bills)

How long is this for?

What to tell friends?

Buy own groceries??

Plans to protect Jeffery?

She was in the middle of thinking up another question when the door opened and Warren entered the living room.  She stood quickly and the journal in her lap fell to the floor.  “Um…hi,” she said.  “You have a very lovely house.”  Her eyes scanned the blood on him and she shifted uncomfortably.  “Are you hurt?” she asked, though she knew the answer.  That wasn’t his blood.  It was someone else’s.  In her head she began to concoct a story that whoever’s blood that was deserved it, that they were a bad person trying to hurt a child or a puppy and Warren had valiantly stepped in to save the day and that this was normal, it was all totally normal.

He noticed the change in her stance, and as a result, he exhaled through his nose in a soft laugh. Seeing her try to act tough was like watching a kitten try to roar. It was almost cute, though, he’d never admit that out loud. Gang leaders and ‘cute’ didn’t exactly go together. Warren pursed his lips as he listened to her speak.

“Tinel?” Warren wondered aloud, once she was done. He looked over at Rodney “Ever heard of him?” Rodney shook his head in response.  Warren wasn’t surprised. The cartel had a hit out on several people at any given time, so people asking for protection wasn’t anything new. In fact, people came a dime a dozen to ask the gang leader for help, especially with the cartel, so he knew he could be of assistance. He didn’t always comply with the requests of those in need, but he was feeling generous right now (and frankly surprised that someone like her was brave enough to venture to this part of town to meet with the leader of the city’s most notorious gang.) He nodded his head. “Alright, here’s the deal. My people protect your brother, but from now on, you belong to me.” Rodney immediately let out a snarky laugh, to which Warren offered a glare. It shut him up instantly. “You do what I say, when I say it. Got it?” He didn’t wait for a response, because she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. If she wanted her brother alive, she had to play by his rules.

“Chris.” He beckoned. The man immediately emerged from the circle of people behind Warren. “Take a few of our boys and follow her home. Don’t let her out of your sight. Have her take you to her brother before you head back to my place. You know what to do.” Chris nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the girl. A few more men followed him. Warren narrowed his eyes at her. “Do we have a deal, princess?” He asked, a smirk resting on his lips. He knew that coming here had to be a last resort, so he knew she would say yes.

Watching him decided her brother’s fate made Clara feel even more sick than before.  What if it had all been for nothing?  And then he told her the payment and she truly did have to keep herself from throwing up on his shoes.  She didn’t want to belong to anyone, and especially not anyone like him.

“I have conditions,” she said suddenly.  If she was going to agree to this, then she wanted to feel like she at least had a little bit of control over her life.  “I want to keep my job.  I like it, a lot.  I won’t tell anyone about this and you can even put a wire on me if you’re so concerned, but I won’t give up my job.  And I still want to be able to hang out with my friends, too.”  She crossed her arms over her chest, as defiant as the toddlers in her class.  “Also, I’ll need the address so I can forward my mail.”

Finally, Clara dropped her arms to her sides.  She glanced at the man that was supposed to follow her, Chris, and nodded at him as if she were giving him the ‘okay’ to go.  “That’s all.  We can go now.”  She didn’t even bother to ask Warren if her conditions were acceptable.  They were going to have to be because she wouldn’t go with him otherwise.

"What did you do?” she asked.  She tried to keep her voice calm and level.  If she started to freak out, Jeffery would follow.  He mimicked other people’s emotions like a child.

He explained everything - how he’d gotten in with a bad crowd, fucked over a leader of a drug cartel, and now had a hit out on him.  He begged Clara to fix it, somehow.  It seemed like a ridiculous request.  How could she, the little lamb of the family, find a way to fix her older brother’s mistakes?  But she would have to.  She could not - and would not - let him die.  She’d do research and ask around and do whatever it took to save him.

After two days of working non-stop to come up with a solution to Jeffery’s problem, Clara had only one.  It was not something she wanted to do, at all, but it seemed to be her only option.  She was going to have to talk to the leader of the most dangerous gang in their area.  She was going to have to ask him a favor - protect her brother.  And, from what she’d heard, she’d have to find something to give in return.

Clara looked through her closet to find the most appropriate thing to wear.  She had too many sundresses and blouses with floral patterns.  Her wardrobe was bright and sunny and happy.  It didn’t exactly scream “Take me seriously, Mr. Gang Leader!  I mean business!”  She settled on a black t-shirt left behind by one of her friends and dark jeans.  That would have to do.

A friend of Jeffery’s had given Clara a location to find Warren.  It was in the worst part of the city, the part of the city that she avoided at all costs.  She’d driven through there only one time and had hit the button to lock her doors over twenty times.  Now she was parking her car, stepping out in black leather boots she bought five years before in an attempt to be “cool”.  She’d never worn them.  Clara locked her car door obsessively until it began to beep at her in protest.  “Sorry,” she said to it.  “Sorry."  Apologizing to her car seemed like further proof that she should not be there.

Clara found the spot she was told Warren frequented and saw a group of men standing there.  Some were smoking, others drinking.  A few wore very obvious weapon belts with guns hanging threateningly off of them.  As she approached them, they all seemed to stare at her.

"My name is Clara Tinel,” she said, working to keep her voice steady as her heart hammered in her chest.  “And I’m here to talk to Warren.  I - I demand to speak with him.  Right now."  She almost added a please and thank you to the end but caught herself in time.