I can get him to ungag me, maybe I can find a way out of this. My nod of agreement was patiently slow.
“Okay. But listen. You make any loud noise, and I'm putting this on even tighter. Okay?” When I nodded again, he reached behind my head, loosening the tie. With the ability to move my mouth again, I noticed how badly my jaw ached. “There. Better?”
My voice cracked. “Can I have a drink?” He edged the open bottle towards me, the strong scent of alcohol burned my nostrils. “Water, do you have water?”
“Oh.” Swallowing more of the liquid down, he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Moving out of view around a corner, Johnny jostled something; I heard water running, probably a sink. The paper cup he brought back to me smelled like chlorine, but I drank it eagerly while he tilted it to my mouth.
Tossing the cup aside, its purpose done, Johnny dug a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “You smoke?”
I curled my lips back. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Take that as a no.” Cupping his lighter close, the fire turned his lips cherry-red. Smoke billowed, the smell making me think of Drezden. “Like I said, this wasn't planned.” On the table, my phone buzzed again. We both glanced at it; him, with disgust—and me? I couldn't hide the hope in my eyes, he saw it plainly. "Don't get excited," he muttered.
“Johnny, please, just let me go." I leaned towards him as much as I could "You don't need to keep me here.”
Waving smoke away, he rolled the cigarette to one side in his mouth and spoke around it. “Yeah, I do. I tried to talk you out of that band. Tried to fucking tell you how awful Drez is. You didn't want to listen.” Ash fell to the rug. “This was the only way to keep you from playing.”
Shifting in the chair, I winced at the twinge in my shoulder. Was it out of the socket? “Why do you care if I play or not? You aren't in the band anymore, what does it matter to you?”
He turned his head suddenly, listening for... something. Taking another drag, Johnny let the grey haze flow around him. “You talk too much. Want more water?”
Why does he want me to leave the band? I'd figured out why Sean had been struggling with it, but Johnny—there was only one thing he could want
My eyebrows shot up to my scalp. “You wanted me to leave so you could take my spot again!”
“Again?” His foot kicked a chair, sending it flying. I ducked my chin, expecting him to swing at me. “Again? You took my spot, not the other way around!”
My breath rattled in my chest. Johnny looked rabid, on the verge of taking a bite out of me. I could see the raw edges of his gums, the cigarette illuminating everything. He moved, hands coming down on my shoulders. “Don't touch me!” I screamed.
Again, on the table, my phone vibrated.
Johnny moved away, guilt twisting his forehead into long rows. “Lola, I'm not that kind of guy! I don't just hurt people!” Remembering the way he'd slammed me into the coffee table last night, I didn't comment. “Just calm down,” he mumbled. Was he talking to himself, or me? Lighting a new cigarette, Johnny dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
He can't see my hands. Cautiously, I worked my wrists together behind me. As a kid, I'd played games with Sean where we tied each other up, pretending to be cops or robbers. They were silly games, and while they didn't help me with untying my binds, the memory gave me strength.
My phone, buzzing away, gave me even more.
People have to know something is wrong. What time was it? The filthy blinds over the windows hid the info from me. Never letting Johnny out of my sight, I kept tugging at my wrists. Whatever he'd used, it was starting to yield from the friction.
Tape? Is that it? Not even electrical tape, but the cheap, clear stuff. Johnny really hadn't thought up some grand scheme. He just wanted me to quit the band so he could stroll in and save the day. But he can't now. He has to know that. There was no way anyone would take him back, even if they were desperate.
The tape slid enough for me to inch my fingers out. My blood pumped like gasoline. One wrong move and I'd