Chapter 8
“Hey, man? You feeling okay? I asked if you want any bananas like three times.” Grant looks me over with obvious concern.
I smile, but it feels weak even to me. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep.”
“Hope it was for a fun reason,” he jokes, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Have you met anyone special here yet?”
A laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it as I picture the man with unruly, hot pink-dyed hair currently tied up in my basement.
Special could be one word for him. But he’s more like absolutely insane and completely delusional if he truly wants me to do any of the things he keeps suggesting.
Ugh. Why can’t I stop picturing all the things he described? And why did he call me Daddy?
I’ve never met anyone like him before. He looks so innocent with his black circle-framed glasses; it’s hard to imagine him being so fucking filthy, talking about me fucking his mouth with a mask on, but people surprise you, I suppose.
Fuck, I hate that he’s the one who wants to live out some of the kinkier fantasies I have. Even if his seem to be a bit different than mine.
“No,” I finally answer, and Grant gives me another strange look before turning back to the produce in front of us.
Ugh. I need to stop thinking about the strange man I accidentally kidnapped and focus on my best friend so he doesn’t pry any further into why I’m acting so weird today.
I shouldn’t have even come. Grant and I haven’t been roommates for the last six months, why are we still shopping together?
I should have canceled. But it’s Thursday, and Grant and I have grocery shopped together every Thursday morning for years, and I do need food.
I should get some stuff for Mason, actually.
Not that it matters if I feed him since I’m probably going to kill him anyway.
But… I don’t know, starving him while I figure out what exactly my plan is seems cruel. So I might as well feed him. I add a carton of eggs to my cart because that’s what he said he liked.
“Alright, now I know something’s up,” Grant insists as he stops pushing his own cart behind me. “Why are you lying about meeting someone?”
I turn back to him with a raised brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Eggs.” He points at them dramatically. “Since when do you eat a real meal for breakfast? You’re totally trying to impress someone.”
Fuck. “I could be using them to make other things,” I argue.
“Sure.” He laughs. “Did you take up baking in your spare time between your two jobs?”
“I could have.”
“Okaaay. Well, if you’re being this weird about it, you must really like her, so I hope things work out. I won’t jinx it by making you talk about it too early, but I want to meet her if they do.”
“Yeah, sure.” I shake my head and agree because it’s easier than anything else at this point.
Honestly though, Grant thinking I’m seeing someone new is probably a great excuse for why I’m acting weird.
Now if he tries to come over or asks me to hang out I can say I’m with this mystery girl, so it’s kind of genius.
I have no idea what food Mason will want beyond his breakfast order, but at least I know he isn’t a vegan.
Since Grant already thinks I’m shopping for two, I don’t bother pretending like it’s all for me anymore.
I wish I knew what else Mason liked, but since I don’t, I load up on snacks and realize just how many options there are.
How the hell do I know if he likes smooth or crunchy peanut butter?
Fuck it, I’ll get both. The amount I have in my cart is probably unnecessary.
I’m going to kill him soon anyway. I have to.
That’s what I should be worried about—not making sure he enjoys the food I give him.
I want to get Pete more food too, but Grant would definitely try to come over if he knew I had a dog at my house, so I’ll have to order that or make another stop later.
“You still good to come by the brewery before your shift Saturday?” Grant asks while we’re waiting in line to check out. “We finally got in the signs you designed, and they look great. It’s all coming together.”
“Oh really? Are the colors bold enough in the logo?” For a moment, I forget about everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, and it’s like I’m myself again for the first time today—just a normal guy excited to be opening a business with his best friend, only worried about the brand I helped design and the marketing campaigns we’ve been running for months in anticipation of its launch.
His smile lights up his face the same way it does anytime he talks about the brewery.
“Colors are great! I know we still have a few weeks before we open, but it’s finally feeling real.
I’m so happy we’re actually doing it. Thanks for letting me convince you to come along to see this dream through with me. ”
Just like that, my gut sinks as reality comes crashing back into me.
There’s a man tied up in my basement. A man who has the power to not only ruin my future, but the future of my best friends as well.
If he turns me in, it’ll be all over the news.
Canyon Brewery will be ruined before it even has a chance to open.
They’ve put everything into starting this company, and if word gets out that a kidnapping potential murderer was an owner, they’ll never recover.
I have to kill Mason.
It’s more than just my future I’m risking if I don’t. But that also means I have to be so careful with how I do it. I absolutely can’t get caught.
My next day off isn’t until Tuesday, and I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself by calling out of work, so it looks like Mason is going to be with me for five more days. By then, I’ll have a plan, and I can deal with him properly.
For now, I need to figure out his bathroom situation.
I stop at the hardware store on my way home and make it back with two hours before I need to leave for my shift, but even that doesn’t feel like enough time. I quickly throw together some sandwiches, and it takes a couple of trips to bring all my supplies into the basement.
“What the fuck is that?” Mason asks, eyeing the large wood board I got to cover the window.
“Your new curtain.” I take out my new hammer drill and masonry drill bits and get to work drilling the wood over the window.
“And he’s good with tools? Be still my beating heart,” Mason comments in a swoony voice, maybe to his dog? I don’t know, it didn’t seem like he was actually talking to me. “Take off your shirt next time and it’ll be even better.”
I wish I could ignore his comments, but I feel my cheeks heat a bit. I can’t help it. I turn to him with a questioning look and search his face for any sign that he’s scared or even worried. But he’s smirking, looking perfectly content in his restraints. He really does seem like he’s enjoying this.
So not how I would be reacting in his shoes.
I don’t respond to him, mostly because I have no idea how to. Should I focus on making the last few days of his life good? Give him what he wants and fuck his face? A mouth is a mouth… Wait. What the fuck am I thinking? I’ve never been into guys, so that’s a crazy thought.
I’ve also never met anyone like Mason. Maybe his delusion is rubbing off on me.
I shake the thought free and finish attaching the board over the window so there’s no way he can open it or break it to escape. It also eliminates any natural light down here, so he won’t know how much time is passing. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing yet.
“If you’re done with your project, does that mean I get to pee again?”
I groan, even though I knew it was coming.
“If I handcuff you in front of your body, you should be able to use both hands to piss and eat, but I can’t leave you alone like that.
I actually got you an air mattress so you can stay on that instead of the chair.
I’ll get that set up while you eat, but I need to go to work soon, so be quick. ”
“How thoughtful of you. I love the way you keep taking care of me.”
“Whatever,” I murmur as I unlock one side of his handcuffs and hold that wrist while I maneuver his arms in front of his body and relock it. Then I help him stand, moving the bucket in front of him so he can pee.
Once he’s finished, I dump that and get the hand sanitizer out from the hardware store bag, using some before offering it to Mason.
“Really?” He has the audacity to look at me like I’m the crazy one.
“What? You don’t want some?”
“Oh, I do. I just think it’s cute you keep pretending like you’re going to kill me, but you want me to wash my hands before I eat.”
“I don’t want to deal with you getting sick before I’m ready,” I insist. “What if I got sick too?”
“Whatever you say, Murder Daddy.”
“Oh my god, just shut up and eat your damn food or I’ll stop feeding you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mason uses the hand sanitizer, then I pass him his sandwich.
Instead of biting into it normally, he attempts to eat it suggestively.
At least, I think that’s what he’s going for with all the eye contact, slow-motion bites, and moaning.
His commitment to being into this situation is honestly impressive, but I guess we’re both fighting for our freedom here, and he’s just chosen a really strange way to do it.
I set up the pump to inflate the air mattress, throw on the extra pillows and blanket I also got for him because it seemed weird to only have the mattress, then quickly eat my sandwich like a normal person, finishing before him.
“Hurry up so I can switch you to the bed and take Pete out before I need to leave.”
Those words finally motivate him to finish.
When he’s done, I give him the plastic cup of water I left on the stairs, and he chugs that with more dramatic moaning.
There’s been so much moaning since I’ve been here that my dick has twitched a couple of times.
I remind myself that this is an insane situation that I need to be taking seriously, and despite what he keeps implying, and the similarities it might share with the porn I watch, it’s not actually an elaborate kinky setup. I’m not turned on by him specifically.
“If I put the long chain between these handcuffs around the pole, and the mattress next to it, I think you can lay on it comfortably.”
Mason smirks. “There are much easier ways to get me in bed, ya know?”
I sigh and undo one side of his cuffs, wrap it around the pole, and reattach it. The chain part between the cuffs is strong enough to keep him there even if he moves it up and down the pole. Now he can stand, sit, or lie down on the bed if he wants.
Next, I head upstairs and practically nudge Pete out the door, walking him around until he finally goes to the bathroom. Seems like neither Pete nor Mason are ever in a rush for anything. I head back downstairs one more time to make sure Mason’s still where I left him, just in case, and he is.
“I’ll be back around ten,” I inform him. No idea why I feel the need to update him on everything, but this whole situation is so awkward, and I think I’d like communication if I was in his position.
“Can’t wait,” he responds, cheery as ever.
So fucking weird.