Page 125 of Kane
“I quite liked your hair bound up,” I say. “It was rather fetching.”
He grins. “Rather fetching, huh?” He laughs. “I only put it up for working out. Man-bun feels a little douchey to me, I guess.”
“I do not know what means ‘douchey.’”
He laughs again, shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. You like it that way, I’ll do it that way for you.”
It’s not a very big shower, but we manage to get clean together; by the time we’re both clean, he’s hard again. This time, instead of Kane taking me without allowing me to touch him back, I push him to the back wall of the shower. I sink to my knees, and I guide his hands to my wet hair, and I give him my mouth. He groans my name as I swallow his release.
When I rise to my feet, he touches my lips with his thumb. “Fuck, Anj. The way you do that is fuckin’…” He shakes his head. “We were talking about magic—baby, your mouth is magic. Everything about you is magic.”
I laugh. “Youare the magic.”
“We’rethe magic, honey.”
We finish in the shower and dress—me in the same clothes I have been wearing. And I do admit, I am ready for some new outfits, even only one or two.
* * *
I havebags of clothing in my hands—from many stores in this mall. I have never done this thing, the shopping freely, choosing what I like. Myka helps me choose, waiting as I try things on, telling me what looks good, what does not. I discover I have a style. I like casual clothing, comfortable and well fitting. I do not like things that are the most expensive just because they cost much money. I like the items which appeal to me. I like T-shirts and jeans, I like simple dresses, skirts, and shorts. Nothing I purchase—or rather, which I allow Kane to purchase for me, but I am told it is being charged to a Sin company credit card and placed against my first paycheck, so indeed, I am earning my purchases rather than being given them, which pleases me. In fact, many of the items which excite me most Myka found on a clearance rack, where the clothing is cheapest. In addition to clothing, Myka helps me find shoes—comfortable shoes for working, athletic shoes for lifting weights, and Myka insists I have at least one pair of heels for dressing up and going out.
The men walk with us from store to store, but at most stores they stand outside, waiting and watching and refusing to come in—at least until it is time for Kane to swipe the card. Then we are off to the next store, and Myka is very clearly in charge of the expedition, leading the charge from store to store, deciding what I need next.
Some of the way through the shopping, we decide it is time for lunch. The men place Myka and me at a table and head off to wait in line. The food court is a busy place, nearly all of the tables are filled and all of the food vendors have rather long lines. Myka and I sit together, chatting aimlessly—she speaks with clear affection of her family, her many siblings and nieces and nephews, and in turn asks me about living in Mumbai, and how it differs from here.
I am attempting to explain the four major languages spoken in Mumbai. I do speak some Gujarati and Marathi, of course, because one cannot very well live in Mumbai andnot, but I am only conversationally fluent, able to conduct minor business and make myself understood when necessary. She finds this astounding, that I am fluent in varying degrees in four languages.
“—and I can barely say two words in Spanish, like literally,” she is saying. “I can’t fathom knowing that many languages…” she trails off, eyes going over my shoulder, widening. “Can I help you?”
I turn, and my heart clenches, sinking like a stone—four men, none of whom I recognize, all in black suits, wearing mirrored sunglasses, staring down at me. Jiwan’s men.
“You will come,” one of them says in Hindi.
“I will not.” I look past him, and see that Kane and Rev are at this moment ordering food, and not looking.
The one who spoke reaches into his coat, partially withdrawing a pistol, enough to show me it. “You will come.”
I stare back at him. “You will not shoot me. I am no good to Jiwan if I am killed or injured.”
He pulls it out all the way, hiding it in front of his body—pointing it not at me but at Myka. “Jiwan has no use for her.”
I do not know if he will do it, and I am not going to take a chance. Myka is a new friend, and I cannot risk her well-being for my own happiness. And also, I know Kane will not allow me to be taken. Not for long, at any rate.
“Very well.” I stand up. “But you know this is foolish.”
“Anjalee, don’t,” Myka says. “They won’t shoot me in public.”
I look at her, speaking in English. “I do not know that, and I will not risk finding out.” I turn to look at Kane, who has now turned, a tray of food in his hands; I smile at him, then turn to my captor and address him in Hindi. “Lead the way. But if you harm me, you will reap very unpleasant consequences for yourself.”
“Make no trouble, and there will be no harm.” His face is impassive, hard. “Jiwan only wants what is his.”
“I am not his. I am not a possession, I am a woman.”
“Save your breath. It is not me you must argue against.” He holsters the weapon, shoving me into a walk.
Very quickly, it becomes obvious this was not a spur-of-the-moment endeavor. The moment I am away from the table, I am picked up at both arms and carried much faster than I could walk, and our departure is obscured by a flurry of activity; one of the men causes a ruckus, knocking over tables, waving his gun, causing a stampede of people to flee. Rather a smart maneuver, I must admit. We are outside in the blazing heat in moments, and there is a vehicle waiting, an expensive-looking sedan. I am shoved in, doors are closed, and the automobile is in motion before I have time to even catch my bearings.
I twist, looking out the back window to see Kane trot to a stop, phone at his ear, eyes hard and spitting fury.