The Celebrity Copycat - A Heartthrob Tale

Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

"Mina!" called Jackson.

Mikayla hated the name. It was so close to something that people had already called her. 'Mika.' Most people went with 'Mik,' but a few of her friends, particularly CJ and Liz, called her 'Mika.'

So, 'Mina' wasn't all that different. And yet, it felt like a whole new identity. She felt wrong to identify by a different name.

Jackson burst through the door. She was dressed and lying on the bed. He sat next to her and rubbed her back. 

"Are you ready? We're going to make dinner."

He smelled like plain cigarettes. She scrunched her nose, disgusted by the smell. She didn't even know he touched those. But if she told him to brush his teeth or change his clothes so he didn't smell like that he'd probably get upset.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Mikayla rolled off the bed and stood up. Jackson smiled and took her hand. It took all her willpower not to flinch.

They went downstairs and into the kitchen. There was chicken on a cutting board and next to it was a steak knife. It was a weapon. She could threaten him into letting her go. 

"Why don't you cut up the chicken, Mina?"

She looked up at his emotionless face, trying to figure out his deal. He wanted her to use the knife? Why would he trust her with a weapon? 

She looked at the knife, then back at him, and a smirk crossed his face.

The bastard knew that she couldn't succeed in hurting him with the knife if she tried. Why else would he trust her. It wasn't exactly the kind of knife she normally would use for cutting raw meat. The blade was probably only 4 or 5 inches long. And he'd probably disarm her if she tried to attack him.

"Let me wash my hands first."

She turned on the sink, washed up and went to the cutting board and quietly started chopping the chicken into cubes.

Mikayla knew it was disheartening to turn down a good escape plan. But a good escape plan gone wrong was a failure. She needed a fool-proof plan. She wouldn't settle for something that would get her hurt later.

His looming presence made her really uncomfortable. She was so nervous. She moved her hand to get a better angle on the chicken. Then slice.

"Ow! Fuck!" she screamed. Bright red blood flowed from her left hand. It was that area of skin between her thumb and her index finger. It hurt like hell.

"Mina, are you okay?" He couldn't even call her by her real name when she was bleeding.

"I cut my hand." She bit down on her lip to try and distract herself from the pain.

"Ooo, go rinse your hand, and I'll take a look at it."

She turned on the water and rinsed off the blood.

Mikayla was known for being accident prone. Her best friend, Rachel, used to joke in college that when she became a successful actress that they'd have to use make up to cover all the scars on her hands from the various cuts and burns she got. Thankfully most of her wounds were small and superficial and only one burn had left a permanent mark. But it was not super noticeable. This. This would be noticeable.

"Okay, let's dry your hand and take a look at it."

He had a paper towel in his open hand. He put a firm pressure on her throbbing hand and then he pulled the paper towel away.

"Okay, you didn't cut all the way through. We can fix this. Now, I want you to keep as much pressure as you can on the cut." He sighed. "I'll get the first aid kit and we're going to fix this right up. You stay here."

She took the towel and held her hand. He rushed off.

She paced around the kitchen. Maybe Jackson would fall down the stairs and break his head. Or maybe she'd be trapped here forever. No. She couldn't think like that.

She couldn't be stupid. She'd earn his trust and then she'd escape. Or an opportunity would present itself sooner.

Jackson came back with a first aid kit and he swiftly bandaged her hand, wrapping it in thick gauze so that she could still use it.

"How's that feel, Mina?" He was trying to use the new name he'd created in every damn sentence. She'd get through this. She knew she would. She always got through everything. Her life hadn't been easy. But she always came out on top.

"It feels better, I guess."

"For now let's just have you do the easier tasks. We'll try cooking again once your hand heels. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Okay." Her hand was throbbing. But it hurt less than it did before he wrapped it.

"Go get the butter from the fridge."

She followed his commands and he cooked a delicious meal. She couldn't deny that he had a genuine talent in the kitchen.

"Where did you learn to cook?" asked Mikayla, once they'd finished eating.

"My mom taught me. My dad was a deadbeat and as I got older and she worked more hours she knew I needed to learn how to cook when I was stuck at home alone."

She had no idea they had that in common. Then again she knew practically nothing about Jackson Danvers. Considering he was so famous, she just never cared about him.

"My mom tried not to leave me at home without a meal she cooked. Then again, my dad still paid alimony and child support. Money was always tight, but my mom was home by six most nights and if she wasn't home I always had something to reheat."

"Well, with me, Mina, you'll always have fresh food. Whether I cook it or you do. Or even if we order take out."

Mikayla felt something drop in the pit of her stomach. Had Jackson Danvers not been a psychotic kidnapper, they'd probably have gotten along very well.

"So, what happened to your dad?"

"I know it's cliche, but he went out one day to get beer and he never came back. I always thought he'd come out of the woodwork when I made it big. But he never did. I half wish he did, just so I could punch him in the face."

"My dad became a born again Christian after he divorced my mom. So he actively chastised my choices to go into acting. But the courts still deemed he had to pay for my college."

"My father was in and out of jail my entire childhood for petty crimes. So I wouldn't be surprised if he's in for something worse. Or dead. I remember him being drunk a hell of a lot more than I remember him being sober. Probably died in a bar fight. That or he's to chicken to confront me."

"Who knows. Maybe he'll show up when you least expect it."

"I doubt it. Frankly, I don't care. If I wanted to pay someone to find him, I could. And I've chosen not to."

Mikayla sighed. Would her friends and family resort to paying someone to find her? She felt sick at the thought.

"Can I go lie down? I don't feel so good."

"What's wrong, my dove?"

"I think I'm just out of it from cutting my hand." It wasn't entirely a lie. But it wasn't entirely true. She and Jackson were so similar and yet so different. Life was cruel to him, just like it was cruel to her. And she almost felt sympathy for him. Almost.

"You rest, I'll clean. Maybe we can watch a movie when I come upstairs."

"Okay."

She stood up and started walking toward the bedroom. He didn't follow. He didn't try to escort her. He trusted her not to do anything that would get her in trouble. This was a step in the right direction.

Soon enough, she would escape. And maybe he'd be reunited with his dad in prison.