He swung the car into a parking space nearest to the doors, and as I reached over for a final drink of my lemonade, he barked out, “Wait here,” and climbed from the driver’s seat. I nearly swallowed my drink wrong and watched nervously as he rounded the hood of the car and stopped outside my door. He waited until I set the drink down and unbuckled my seat belt before opening my door and waiting for me to step out. As soon as I was clear, he slammed it shut, hit the locks, and snugly took my hand in his.
The gesture warms me and brings back our earlier conversation. He didn’t let me have a single second of worrying if he’d go back on his word.
His confident strides eat up the parking lot. He holds the door open for me, and once we’re inside, he scans the area for a few seconds before leading me in the direction he wants to go. I’m trying to keep up while simultaneously taking everything in. The smell and the look of the place come flooding back as I’m hit with my first pre-kidnapping memory since I’ve been free. I remember being in this store. Not this specific location probably, but this store. The colors and the smells are familiar. The layout and the brand. I’d bet I went school shopping here when I was younger.
We walk down the left and take a right down another long main aisle. At the end, he turns left again and stops.
“The women’s department,” he says, using his free hand to gesture in front of us.
“There’s so much stuff here I don’t know where to start,” I admit nervously.
He looks down at me with a small smirk. “It won’t take you long to figure it out.” With my hand tightly in his, he leads me between the racks of clothes straight to the jeans. He points to three racks in front of us. “Like any of these?”
I nod. One style is a dark navy blue that flares out a little more at the bottom of the leg. The next style holds black jeans that are the opposite—they taper in and have angled zippered pockets at the top. The third rack is also blue, but a lighter denim similar to the pair I had at Alex’s this morning. “I like them all.”
Alex grabs a pair of sizes 2 and 4 from each rack and drapes them over his arm. “Let’s try these on and see which ones fit the best.”
As he leads me to the dressing room, we walk past a mannequin wearing a maroon colored top that hangs off one shoulder. It’s loose on the shoulders and more fitted around the chest and torso. Without me saying anything, Alex reaches out and nabs a size small from the rack beside it.
“I don’t—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
“You do. Don’t deny yourself the things you want.”
I open my mouth to speak again, but he keeps going. “Don’t try to justify it either. You want something? Get it. And before you argue again, I’m payin’. If you want to push, we’ll figure out a way for you to pay me back. For now, pick out what you like and let me take care of you.” His voice softens at the end.
“Okay.”
He starts walking, stopping at the entrance to the ladies' dressing room and sharply raps twice on the wall. When nobody answers, he snags my hand and tugs me into the hall separating the rooms.
“You need me, or are you good? If you need me, we should take the biggest one. If you’re good, take this one on the end, and I can stand right here.”
His deep brown eyes peer at me, patiently waiting for my answer, and that’s all it takes for me to give him one.
“I’m good.”
“Then I’ll be right here, blossom.”
Something changes with his words. Something inside me. It’s as if a part of me deep in my chest unfurls and takes his words right in that tight space, holding them close. With an answering smile, I relieve him of the clothes and shut the dressing room door behind me.
Alone in this tight space, my heart rate picks up. I dart my gaze from corner to wall until I land on his black booted feet just outside the door, and an instant calm consumes me. He’s right there, and he’s not leaving until I’m finished.
It only takes a few minutes to decide which pants fit best and slide on the top, and sooner than I thought, I’m tugging the door open. When I emerge, Alex waits until I stop in front of him rather than turning around to greet me. He nods toward the clothes in my arms. “Fit?”
“The 2’s do. The 4’s are a little too big.” I move to hang them on the rack. Alex steps forward and catches the fabric before I can.
“We’ll get these too. In case you put on some more weight.”
My brow furrows. “Can’t we just go shopping again?”
“We could,” he replies, tucking the pairs of pants over his arm, and starts walking. “Except if you think I’m spending a second longer in a store than I have to, you better think again.” He raises the arm holding the pants. “Saves me another trip out at least for a coupla months.”
“I mean, eventually, I’d hope, I’ll stop putting on weight. What if they never fit and you’re wasting your money?”
“I’ll donate them,” he mutters, pausing in front of a rack of flowery tops. The shirt is red and black roses, but the ¾ length sleeves are white. Without asking, he grabs a small and adds it to the pile. Seemingly in his own world, he starts weaving through the clothes again. I have to quicken my pace to catch up.
“You’ll … donate?” I don’t know why I’m confused, but I am. The thought of this big, dark, motorcycle-driving beast of a man donating some size 4 women’s pants surprises me. I would have expected him to throw them in the trash.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “Find a good women’s shelter to take them to. We can go through the clothes that don’t fit you like those pants from this morning. Donate those, too.”
I bite my cheek to keep from smiling as we hit the main aisle. “That’s a good idea. I’ll try on the things I have and make a donation pile. Can I, I mean, do you have a shelter in mind? Or can I help you find one?”
He turns abruptly to me, pinning me in place with his stare. “I’d like it very much if you’d help me. We can do it together.” Snagging my hand, he starts leading me down the aisle. “But first, let’s get out of this fuckin’ store. You need anything else?”
“Um …” I blush under the florescent lights. “I could use some panties.”
Alex’s body turns into a brick wall, and I run smack into the back of him.
“You’ve got underwear. I’ve seen them.”
Oh, God. My embarrassment grows. “They’re, um, very…clinical.”
Alex spins slowly until he’s facing me. His gaze rakes my face before he directs it over my head and sighs. I can’t tell if he’s impatient or uncomfortable. Either way, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I could have found a way to ask Elias’s mom to get me some nicer panties.
“Look, forget I said anything. I can tell this makes you uncomfortable.”
“You deserve the nicest things. If you want silk, I’ll buy you silk. If you want panties that aren’t sterile cotton, then fuck me, I’m buying you panties.”
Once again, the words out of his mouth surprise me. “Then … I don’t understand why you seem so uncomfortable?”