His Ransom 4(8)

A sense of unease moved me. I used to be one of those people, a peon in the streets. I was the one in the alleyway until Jake stole me away. And recently, I’d been feeling more and more like a burden.

I didn’t know if I could handle all this. Everything was moving so fast, and I was being swept up in Jake’s world. It excited and terrified me at the same time.

“I don’t know if I can stay here,” I said finally.

Jake turned his slow gaze on me. In the night, his emerald eyes reflected the lights of the city, small pinpricks of brightness in the dark.

“With me, you mean? Lacey, you know you can stay here as long as you want.”

“I mean here. In the city. I don’t know if I can stay here.”

“I thought you loved New York.”

“I did. I do. It’s just…” I struggled to put into words what I was feeling. “I used to live on a farm with absolutely nothing around. It was the most boring thing ever. And yet, when I went outside there, I felt like I was free.”

“And you’re not free here?”

“I’m…” I searched for the right word. “Claustrophobic. This city moves lightning-fast, and I don’t know if I can keep up. I don’t know if I want to keep up. When I was struggling to make rent, I thought to myself: wait until your art takes off. Then you’ll have it made.”

“But it has taken off. You sold your paintings—”

“You sold those paintings. It was all your friends who bought them, doing you a favor.”

“What about this bidder who wants to meet you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was scared the bidder would meet me and realize I was a fraud in the art world. That was how I felt, anyway. “But even if he buys the painting, so what?”

“So what? So what? That would be great news!”

“Why? It doesn’t matter. Like you said, the money doesn’t matter to you—”

“Lacey—”

“And even if I sell this painting and every other one, so what? It doesn’t matter!”

“Do you want to leave?”

I looked at him, worried that he had taken it the wrong way.

“I don’t mean I don’t appreciate this. Believe me, this is a lot less claustrophobic than my old apartment. But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know.” I gripped the railing tightly and looked down. “Do you think you’ll live here in New York City forever?”

“I’m not sure,” Jake said.

I needed to know more. I couldn’t take uncertainty for an answer. He was going to be gone for a week, and I was already losing my way.

“When you imagine life in the future, what do you imagine?” I asked. “Where would you raise your kids? Where do you want to live forever?”

“I’ve never considered it. Do you want kids?”

I flushed.

“I’m not saying—I mean, we’ve known each other for a few weeks, that’s nothing.”

“Lacey, it’s not nothing.”

I shook my head, embarrassed. I’d said the wrong thing. Again. I’d messed up.

“I shouldn’t push you,” I said. In the streets, lines of red and white moved in slow lines through the grid of the city. Where were they all going? Did any of them do anything that really mattered? Everybody thought that what they did mattered, I suppose. Looking down on everything, though, it was hard to believe it.

“It’s tough for me to commit to anything,” Jake said, looking off. “I don’t feel like I could be responsible enough for a normal life.”

“You certainly don’t have a normal life. You have a perfect life.” I felt terrible for pushing him with these questions before he left. I don’t know what I wanted. Some kind of commitment, maybe. He was going to Paris, probably surrounded by gorgeous women—

I snapped my mind shut on those awful thoughts.

“You’ve thrown a wrench into the works, though.”

“Me?” I frowned. I didn’t want to mess up Jake’s perfect life.

“Yes, you. Your art. Your words. Your beautiful body.”

Jake moved behind me. His hands cupped at my breasts, lifting them in appreciative palms.

“Jake, come on.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Before you, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I wasn’t going to care about anything except the next day. There wasn’t anything for me except superficial entertainment. I feel so guilty… I used women who wanted me. I used them and threw them away and never cared. Not until you.”

“Then why do you flirt with other women?”