She felt the vomit piling up behind her throat. Turning her head to the left, she let it come, and she was sick across the floor. This kitchen was having an odd baptism. When she looked back at Taured, he seemed pleased. Of course he was: he fed on the emotions he caused. It didn’t matter how gross the outcome was. After another torturous minute of watching her, he dragged Ginger’s body into the walk-in freezer and kicked the door closed, dusting his hands.
“He hit her pretty good.” Rainy licked her lips, nodding toward Braithe. “Can you check on her?”
Taured nodded. He walked over to where Braithe sat, taking her in, before lowering himself to his haunches. She was no longer sitting up, alert; her legs were extended in front of her and her head was lolling again. He touched her neck and looked at Rainy. “She’s alive,” he said. Then, as he stood up, he said, “You care about her.”
“I do.”
“You offered yourself up to this to save her.”
“I suppose that’s what it looks like,” she said.
“No greater love than this, a man who gives up his life for his friend…” He looked down at Braithe for another few seconds, considering either her beauty or her value to Rainy—she didn’t know which—then he walked toward Rainy along the length of table that separated her from Braithe. When he was in front of Rainy, with his back to the freezer, he leaned against it, crossing his ankles.
“You were never transparent about what you cared about, except for your mother. It was all a mystery to me—what parts you were faking and what parts were real.”
Rainy thought back to the journaling he’d had them do, the way she’d always try to write things that would please him. And that’s what he was doing back then: brainwashing a bunch of kids into believing their life’s purpose was to please him. Pillaging their brains for information and then using it against them and their families.
“Ditto,” Rainy said. She wished he’d given her some of that water, too, but she was too proud to ask.
“Wonderful,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Let’s get to know each other again, then—what do you say?”
“I’d say it’s about time.”
Taured looked pleased with that. He surveyed Ginger’s array of food on the counter, his lips pursed.
“I’ll get us something better,” he said, bypassing the vegetables Ginger had so carefully lined up. “You want a steak, Summer? Who am I kidding, everyone likes a steak, right? Except maybe that guy.”
“Fine,” Rainy said. “A steak is great.” She wanted him to leave for a bit so she could think and gather herself. She knew he wasn’t going to just let her out of these cuffs. But that was stage two, and she wasn’t there yet.
She watched him wash his hands using the little bottle of detergent Ginger had brought, washing off Ginger’s blood with Ginger’s soap. She didn’t feel bad for him; the bastard intended to harm both her and Braithe.
Taured whistled while he scrubbed. Rainy didn’t recognize the tune, but it sounded like something sung at church. When he was done, he pulled off his shirt, making sure to face her as he did it. He was all muscle, tough like a bull. Even his neck had thick cords running through it, veins standing at attention. Dropping the bloody shirt on the floor, he turned away from Rainy; she saw the gun in the waistband of his pants, as she supposed he wanted her to.
She’d seen him shirtless only once, when she’d accidentally walked into the makeshift clinic for a Band-Aid. He’d been sitting on the examination table, kicking his feet like a kid. Rainy had been so alarmed that he was there she almost hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything on top, and then when she did notice, she must have turned a shade of ultrasonic violet, because Taured had laughed.
“They’re just tattoos, Summa, Summa, Summatime…” And then he’d shown her each one, without getting off the table: animals exploding from leaves across his shoulder blades, and a snake draped across his chest, the tip of its tail touching his belly button. His arms were clean of tattoos, which, he explained, gave the world what they wanted: a respectable man.
“And I am the most respectable man, Summer, wouldn’t you agree?”
It was then her job to say, “Yes, Taured.”
Even then, she’d wanted to laugh when Taured used the word respectable so generously on himself.
Then he was shrugging on another shirt, a tight, white undershirt he pulled from his pocket. He looked like a dick, she noted, not above being petty in this moment. He picked up the duct tape and walked over.