UNSCATHED

Chapter 6

THIS was a temporary stop for Pique, the Staff had said; he was looking for alternative accommodation. He was always talking about it, even though with his problems she knew he was unlikely to leave any time soon.

She knew he wished he was leaving, he made no secret of that; he'd been mistaken about what the Warehouse was for; the Warehouse had lied to him. He had thought it was a rehabilitation unit that he would one day leave.

That was another thing; as an ex-chef, why had she never seen Pique at least try to cook?

If Khronic Khonstipation "with a K and an H" had been so famous, why had she heard none of their work yet? Why had she seen no merchandise? He couldn't have smashed the whole lot.

     Maybe he needed that fantasy, just as she needed hers; he needed to feel as if he would leave the Warehouse soon; he needed to think someone -- or possibly several someones -- waited for him.

     Tasha had felt like she had known many. One had been from icy lands; one from the wide brown land thousands of miles away. They had bestowed terms of endearment from their lands on her and she had loved them dearly, though marriage had never once crossed her mind.

   Her father had been scornful; he had said that she couldn't have a friend from these far-off lands, not meaning that she wasn't allowed to, but he was unsure how they would ever meet and found the whole idea to have no purpose.

     Pique had told her that he couldn't hold a pen, so he couldn't write things down the way she often did.

    She had been toying with the idea of transferring to another home herself, what with the way some Staff complained about their duties.

If or when he did leave, she'd have few to talk to, she thought sadly. Even if he had met some woman with legs up to her armpits.

   He seemed to already have one or meet another everywhere he went; mostly a few at the same time.

      He certainly looked as if he could do this, though she failed to see how, living where he did. When he said he was single, he talked and joked; when he said he was in a relationship nobody seemed to exist but his girlfriend, so he never spoke to anyone else. He'd told her he never wanted to do any activities with the rest of the "Warehouse people.".

      A young Tasha, knowing she was not as others were and never would be, soaked up the sentiments from the songs played to her; wanting something or someone all the more for knowing you could never have them or it.

     She thought said girlfriend had told him not to speak to other women; that he needed no one else, no other women but her. She had never visited him and had always had an excuse for not doing so. He'd even said she wanted him to leave the Warehouse to be with her. Tasha thought she had never seen anyone look so miserable.

     He lived at the Warehouse for a reason; in his own way he was just as disabled as she was. He may have looked fine, and not looked disabled, but there had to be something wrong somewhere; or he would not have been there; he was like a teenage boy, telling tall stories; wanting the fastest car, the nicest designer gear, the prettiest woman with the biggest breasts; what he had was never enough.

     He said he'd been up since four in the morning to send Patrizia cash for the wedding. Oddly enough he only mentioned her, or any other women when in public.

Tasha had heard of something called a scam –- her parents had said it was when a group of people used a woman to tempt men into giving away all their money.

    What on earth was she doing, doing that to a man who wasn't well?

     Why couldn't he see what was in front of his eyes?