Page 34 of Jazz

“You wanted the toilet.”

Nodding, I stood. Blood rushing to areas it had long been pooling. My vision sank even deeper into darkness, sending me into a tailspin. I staggered backwards, my legs hitting the metal base of the bed and flopping backwards onto the mattress.

“Fuck,” Chase grumbled.

“Dizzy.”

“Ok, slowly this time.”

He guided me up, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling mine over his shoulder. I took a step, with him as my crutch, my legs wobbling, unable to take my weight.

“Just a sec,” I pleaded, blood not the only thing rushing from where it pooled.

Now I was desperate for that toilet.

“I got you, Jazz.”

Chase moved, lowering, and suddenly I was weightless again, cradled in his arms. Against his chest like the other day. Two days ago? I didn’t know anymore. But I remembered feeling this. The hardness of his chest, the strength in his arms. The richness of his aftershave and that same hint of clean, fresh oil. I closed my eyes, thankful he couldn’t see that reaction because of the blindfold.

We were moving. Different shades of grey in front of my eyes with each soft creak of his feet on an old linoleum-tiled floor. I tried to count the footsteps. Tried to memorise an escape route, but I was completely lost. No idea of whether right or left led me to an exit.

Now it was darker, and he was lowering me. I could smell chlorine. Cleaning products and damp.

“I’m going to turn my back.” His voice sounded even deeper in the tightness of this recess. “You can do what you need to do, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

But my hands were numb, and my arms ached. And I was so weak that every part of me felt like it was shaking.

“Why won’t you help me?” I asked after I’d finished, a sudden pang of bravery and resilience returning.

“You done?” He ignored me.

“Yeah.”

A hand wrapped around my bicep, gently pulling me, the colour changing under my blindfold.

“You could just let me go now. There’s no one else here. No one will know.”

He snorted. Half a laugh.

“No one will ever know I let you go, huh? This is my place. Dougal is the only one who has a key for it other than me. Course they’ll fucking know it’s me.”

I swallowed any retort I was thinking up.

“What if I snuck out? I could hit you with something.”

Now he did laugh. Deep and hearty. Amused.

“Tiger, I’m the fucking club enforcer. There’s no way that would happen, even with your temper.”

“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?”

But he didn’t respond straight away, the tension in his fingers tightening around my arm.

“Shush,” he said eventually.

“What do you mean, shush, dickhead?”