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Conditional: Chapter 7
Lisa, being completely out of questions answerable by Jackson, remained silent as they drove through barren pastures. The landscape was nothing but broken dirt and short, frazzled strands of grass and weeds that shone dull and dry against the sunlight. To Lisa’s surprise, Jackson had not placed the blindfold back over her eyes, and so she was free to lean her head against the window and simply stare out. Lisa caught her reflection in the side mirror and grimaced; she looked terrible. Her face was pale and tear stained, her hair mussed, and only now were the imprints of tightly wrapped cloth fading from her skin.
“Oh, don’t look so gloomy, Lise,” commented Jackson, who had been watching her reactions out of the corner of his eye. “We’ll need that dazzling smile of yours to get us through the next stop.”
“What, your charms suddenly aren’t enough?” she asked lazily, barely bothering to look at him when she did so.
“I didn’t say that,” he smiled back. “But if you enter the shopping mall looking like a hostage…well, we don’t want to attract extra attention.”
“The shopping mall?” she asked, only now interested enough to catch his eye. “Why are we—”
“Let’s just say we have a long trip ahead of us and no provisions,” he said. “Which reminds me…” Jackson kept his eyes on the road and his left hand on the leather steering wheel, but reached back with a free hand to search through a rather small black duffle bag. “Whala,” he said, surfacing with a brush with a wooden handle.
“You’ll need to tidy up,” he informed her, tossing the object onto her lap. Lisa looked nearly disgusted at the prospect.
“Is this a remnant from your last kidnap-e?” she spat.
“Uh, no.” He shook his head lightly. “No, I’m afraid that one’s new.” Lisa narrowed her eyes.
“Well, you’ll need to untie me. I can’t exactly brush my hair without any hands.” Jackson frowned, though his stare remained on the road and random passing signs.
“All in good time,” were his last words for a long while.
Lisa was surprised to see the town that formed in the lower hills, its colors reflecting off the sun and giving it a homely, glittering look. She knew she had never been to this place, especially when the words “Welcome to Wesport” flashed in plain text across a green road sign. And it wasn’t until the hills parted, and Jackson’s dark porche rolled into town, that Lisa realized they were on the coast.
“Alright,” Jackson sighed as he pulled the car into park, “I’m going to untie you, but remember—we’re a long way from Miami, and even farther from South Carolina. There’s no one to run to, no way to warn your family, and if you misbehave in the slightest….all it takes is one call.”
“I know,” Lisa said softly, and held out her hands to him. Jackson obliged, and quickly unwound the ropes, allowing her to take off her seat belt and untie her bound ankles. After shaking out her arms, and rubbing the sore ends of her legs, she took up the brush and flipped down the mirror on her side’s visor.
I need a shower, Lisa groaned inwardly, trying to comb through her mess of flattened curls. She ran her fingertips under her eyes, wiping away the traces of overnight make-up but unfortunately high lighting the dark circles that lay beneath.
“Ready?” Jackson asked after a moment of stillness.
“I don’t think they’ll let me in without any shoes,” she quipped, glancing down to her bare feet. Jackson narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but after searching around in the back seat he handed her her black pair of high heeled shoes.
“You’ll have these back only until we can buy you some sandals,” he said seriously. Lisa smirked in response.
The mall was larger than Lisa had expected, though it wasn’t even two stories. The floor was covered with tiles that clanged in response to Lisa’s thick footwear, and the walls were spackled white. She took in the drifting aromas of the plaza’s food court—a mixture of pepperoni pizza, Chinese noodles, and lasagna—and suddenly remembered she had eaten nothing all day. Not that the bagel Jackson had offered was looking good, but still…
Lisa was practically chained to Jackson side; to onlookers, a victim of an overly possessive boyfriend. His gaze was relaxed—he even smiled a little—but the grip he had on Lisa’s arm, which wound itself around his own, was a vice-like warning.
“Remember to smile, Lise,” he whispered into her hair. Then, taking a more casual hold on his captive, he turned into a store and passed through its double glass doors. The florescent lights that hung above customers were somewhat dimmed by the shop’s tall ceiling, but they cast a favorable glow on the racks of women’s apparel. All the clothes were modest, cheerful, and mature, and Lisa longed to feel as comfortable as those inanimate objects. A young woman stood behind the counter, her eyes lazily focused on the task at hand. Jackson cleared his throat, and she looked startled for a moment, but relaxed and then brightened at the sight of this cozy couple.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Lisa turned her head away.
“Hi,” Jackson grinned, “I’m here to pick up a clothing order.”
“Alright,” she smiled back, and set herself up at the front computer, “Last name?”
“Rippner.”
“Okay, that comes to…” She scanned the page with a long manicured nail. “$227.65, and I’ll be right back with your order.” The girl left, her brown ringlets bouncing as she passed through the back door.
“Good job, Lise,” Jackson murmured. “Now, remember to say thank you.”
When two silver shopping bags with the store’s logo were handed over to them, and Jackson had dealt with the price, Lisa did manage to mutter a small, almost apologetic word of thanks.
“Now, how about lunch?” he asked, scanning the mall for the food court. Lisa didn’t answer, just kept her pleading eyes on passing people.
“I said—” Jackson reiterated, cupping her chin in his hand and making sure her eyes locked only with his, “How about lunch?”
“Lunch would be fine,” she acknowledged. Jackson nodded, and let go.
He led them to an Italian restaurant, glanced over the overhead menu, and decided hurriedly not to eat the buffet. When he did order, it was to go. “We can eat in the car,” he said. And then their shopping trip was over. Lisa carried the clothing bags, and Jackson handled the food.
“Eat up,” he told her, settling himself in the driver’s seat. Lisa opened her styrofoam box and saw a steaming side of sauce coated ravioli. For a moment Lisa was grateful to her captor, but it soon turned to suspicion. She loved ravioli.
Jackson’s boxed spaghetti was open on his lap, and he put forkfuls into his mouth whenever he could take a hand away from the steering wheel. “How is it?” he asked after swallowing, causing Lisa to look up from her food.
“Peachy. Yours?”
“Just fine,” he replied. The car turned in front of a weather worn dock, where a huge ship—a cruise ship, Lisa thought absently—waded in the water around clusters of people. “Well, here we are,” Jackson announced. Lisa put her utensil down to stare at him, then at the ship, and back at him.
“And here is…?”
Jackson motioned his head to the vessel.
“We’re not—” Lisa started to say in disbelief, but Jackson cut her off.
“Yes, we are.”
YOU.ARE.MEAN!! Anticipation: I hate it! Post more!!
lol. Thank you so much for your replies, you all rock! Like, seriously rock. 
Aug 31, 2018 5:37:36 GMT -5
Aug 31, 2018 5:37:36 GMT -5