Enamel

by Tim Sabados

  Marjorie slowed her pace. “I’m well.” She hoped she had covered the shyness in her tone. “And you?”

  The man in the gray suit took a deep breath. “Can’t help but feel good on a morning like this.”

  Marjorie glanced at the blue sky. “I agree.” A brief image of the radio, her cell phone, the taillights, her slamming the brakes flashed across the screen in her mind. She shuddered.

  “Are you okay?” the shorter man asked. He tucked his hand into his pocket. “It looked like you were thinking about something.”

  Marjorie scratched her brow with doubt. “It’s nothing. Been a busy morning.”

  The man in the gray suit slowly nodded. “I hope it gets better.” His voice was sweetened with reassurance. “Where are you headed?”

  “That way.” Marjorie gestured down the street. “Heard there’s a café near the marina.”

  “There is,” the man in the blue suit confirmed. “The Coffee Bean.” A smile. “Just keep following this road and you’ll run right into it. Definitely worth the stop.”

  “Thank you,” Marjorie replied gratefully.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Are you sure that’s where you want to go?” the man in the gray suit questioned.

  Marjorie nodded. “Yeah.” Cocked her head with uncertainty. “Is there someplace better?”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s better,” the man in gray responded. “But, more fitting for a woman in your position.”

  A tiny shock rippled through Marjorie. “More fitting?”

  “Yes,” the man in blue answered. “I’d say better suited for your situation.”

  “My situation is just fine,” Marjorie responded.

  “Do you even know why you’re taking this road to that cafe?”

  “Of course I do.” Marjorie stepped forward uneasily. “I’m supposed to meet…meet someone.” A pause. “In fact, I’m running a little late.”

  “I don’t think your someone is waiting for you,” the man in the gray suit said firmly. “In fact, the person you want isn’t going to be there until later tonight.”

  Dread clenched Marjorie’s throat. How’d he know that? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone undulated with indecision “I know who I’m supposed to be meeting.”

  The man in the gray suit chuckled. “I don’t think you do.” He stepped sideways to block her path. “I’m guessing you haven’t fully grasped everything that’s happened to you this morning.”

  Panic trembled through Marjorie’s legs. “I’m well aware of my morning and the things that I need to get done.” Was she really aware, though? Uneasiness cramped her gut. There was something off about the morning. Something off about walking in this part of the city. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. She crossed her arms to keep it all contained. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do and places to be.”

  The man in the blue suit pointed at her hand. “And what about that?’

  “What about what?” She could feel the edges of the coin pressing against her palm.

  Both men chuckled. “You know very well what I’m talking about,” the blue-suited man said.

  “It’s none of your business.” Marjorie tried to weave around the men, but the man in gray became an unmovable barrier. “You’re in my way.”

  The man in the gray suit momentarily hesitated, and then stepped aside, extending his arm to allow her to pass. “As you wish.”

  A faint huff squeezed past Marjorie’s lips. Her heart thumped wildly, but she refused to let it influence her hardened expression. She lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and stepped forward. Took another step. And another. Each one successively filling her with a little more confidence.

  Marjorie was nearly untangled from the situation when suddenly each of her arms was snatched. “I think you’ll find your situation better with us,” the gray-suited man hissed.

  “Let me go!” Marjorie screamed. She desperately tried to wrangle free from the two men. Their grasp only became tighter.

  “Stop fighting,” the man in the blue suit demanded.

  She remained defiant. Kicked the blue-suited man’s shin. He barely flinched. Marjorie crouched toward the ground, dug her heels and yanked. It didn’t work. Instead, the men effortlessly hoisted her upright and dragged her toward the abandoned factory.

  “Help me!” Marjorie shouted. She attempted to catch her feet so she could stand. So she could resist. “Someone help…!”

  A truck drove within a few feet of her, but didn’t stop. A man smoking a cigarette never bothered to look up from his phone. What’s wrong with everyone?

  “Somebody!”

  The gray-suited man snickered. “Scream all you want. They can’t hear you.”

  Marjorie refused to believe him. “Help me!”

  Nothing.

  The factory got closer. Marjorie couldn’t stop their unrelenting progress. The man in the blue suit ripped open her hand and snatched the coin. “You won’t be needing this.”

  “Give it back!” She tried to wrestle her arm free to get it. “That’s mine.” What was that coin for, anyway? Why was no one willing to help her? “Somebody…I need…!”

  “Damn it!” The blue suited man yelled. “It happened again.”

  “Forget about that thing right now,” the man in gray said. “I don’t even know why you bothered.”

  Somehow the coin was back in Marjorie’s palm. She squeezed it for reassurance even as her strength waned. The factory loomed over her. The dark, foreboding entrance drew nearer. Her children, husband, work, those errands blazed across her thoughts. Something had happened to her this morning. But what?

  The static of screeching tires burst from the speakers inside her head. A flash of her cell phone falling from her hand. Crunching metal. Shattering glass. Air bags exploding. Pain piercing her head. Her back. The world spinning uncontrollably. Had she been in an accident? If so, what exactly had happened? Could she be…?

  The two men thrust Marjorie through the door and into a cavern of darkness. She was heaved into the void’s throat and swallowed into the abyss of nothingness.

  6

  Charlie yawned, tried to rub the sleep from his eye, but instead fingered a small crust from the corner near his nose. He dragged the jagged piece over his cheek, gripped it between his fingers and flicked it away.

  He sighed. It was barely past one in the afternoon. A stagnant haze dulled the edges of his mind and numbed his consciousness. It was a rarity for him to be awake this early, even rarer still to be up and moving. Charlie put his hand over his stomach. His gut squirmed with nervousness, which was one small reason he hadn’t slept that well. The bigger one was her.

  Charlie gazed at his reflection in the glass door. At his long, black hair. Dark clothes. Thick features. Glaring eyes. Chiseled cheeks. Stocky frame. No doubt he looked menacing, even scary, if he felt like projecting it. But still, how was Aryssa able to turn him into a babbling ball of melting Jell-O? A sigh. He still had an hour or so before they were to meet for lunch.

  He reached for the door to G.G’s Pawn and Coin Shop. Faltered. What happens if she doesn’t show? Charlie fought the sag in his shoulders, clenched his jaw and shoved doubt aside. Aryssa will show up. She said she would. For God’s sake, just be confident.

  Charlie stepped into the glaring fluorescent lights and stood before the counter. Some talk show blared on the television off to the side. The same scruffy, bald guy was behind the glass case. He sat on a worn-out stool, blankly stared at the television and absentmindedly chewed on a piece of a bagel. Charlie knew this man by sight. He could easily pick him out of a crowd, but just couldn’t remember his name. A silent scoff. Did it matter?

  Charlie took the six gold coins out of his pocket and laid them on the glass countertop.

  The counterman drank something out of a mug and smacked his lips. “Sellin’?”

  “Like I do every time I come here,” Charlie answered.

  Th
e man grunted. Picked up one of the coins and held it before his eye. Turned it back and forth. “Cash or credit?”

  “Cash, like always,” Charlie responded impatiently.

  “You know,” the counterman sucked on his teeth, “these things aren’t exactly easy to sell.”

  “What do you care?” Charlie questioned. “You melt them down for the gold.”

  “It’s not that easy.” The counterman placed the coin on an electronic scale. “I just can’t drop these off any ol’ place.” He cleared his throat. “You think I want the cops wandering in here and asking questions?”

  Charlie kept quiet as he pushed the remaining coins across the glass.

  “There’s a ton of risks playing the middle man.” The counterman took another coin and placed it on the scale. “In all the years we’ve done business, have I ever asked where you get these things?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “And I’m not going to,” the counterman advised. “Truthfully, I don’t want to know.”

  “So don’t ask,” Charlie blurted. “You get well paid for your time and trouble.” A tense pause. “In all the years we’ve known each other, have I ever tried to rip you off?”

  The counterman shook his head.

  Charlie rested his fists on top of the case. “And I expect the same in return.”

  The counterman’s brows arched. “You know damn well I give you the best deals.” He gestured toward the exit. “You can always try some of the other guys and see what that gets you.”

  Charlie tipped his chin. Puffed his chest. “I’ve been faithfully coming here for years. Don’t take too kindly to being suckered.”

  “Neither do I,” the man argued.

  “At least we agree on something,” Charlie said.

  The counterman finished weighing the coins. He punched the buttons of a calculator, slid it in front of Charlie and waited.

  Charlie swallowed the bitter annoyance that coated his tongue. The number was lower than he had expected. He opened his mouth to complain, but bottled the words in his throat. Nitpicking wouldn’t do any good. This guy didn’t have to buy the coins, and he could easily tell Charlie to go somewhere else. Then what? Could he trust those other pawn shops? He had tried a few of them in the past and had never made out as well as he had here. No way was Charlie going to humiliate himself and come crawling back with his tail between his legs. He desperately needed the money. Bills were due. Besides, this place was close to home and too familiar to leave. Charlie sighed silently and nodded his acceptance.

  The counterman disappeared into the back of the store and within a few minutes returned with a small stack of bills. He extended it to Charlie. “Here you go.”

  Charlie counted the money, purposely laying each bill on the countertop as he went. No way was he going to get ripped off. When he was finished, he stuffed the cash into his pocket. “Until the next time.”

  The counterman tipped his head. “Later.”

  Charlie stepped outside the pawn shop and exhaled sharply. Anxiety sank its claws into his gut and twisted. A glance down the street in the direction of the Penn Bar and Grill. It was time to meet up with Aryssa. Hopefully she’d show up.

  * * * * *

  The counterman palmed the six coins. Gazed at the way the gold sparkled lustily under the lights. He watched Charlie in the security cameras as he left through the front door. Fidgeted in his chair. Waited until Charlie was well down the street before picking up his phone. He punched the number he had scribbled on a scrap piece of paper taped to the side of the case. The phone rang. It rang again. And again.

  “Hello,” answered Sammy.

  “Hey it’s me, over at G.G’s,” the counterman said.

  “You got something for me?” It sounded as if Sammy were trying to contain his enthusiasm.”

  “Yeah. Just got ’em.”

  “How many?”

  The counterman hesitated. He opened his hand and gazed at the six coins. “Five.”

  “Sounds like it’s been a slow week,” Sammy commented.

  “Must have been.” The counterman clicked his tongue. “You want ’em?”

  “Of course,” Sammy said. “Usual price?”

  The counterman wavered for a couple of seconds. “Yeah, the usual price.”

  “I’ll be there in a bit,” Sammy’s voice was rushed. “Thanks for calling.” The line went silent.

  The counterman set his phone on the counter and stared at the six coins. Why was Sammy so eager to have these? What made them so special? He slid one of the coins into his pocket. The other five he placed in an envelope and locked it in a small box. There was no doubt Sammy would be by soon. He’d have to watch him closely and find out why he was so desperate to have these.

  7

  Sammy stepped out of his car and eagerly slid his cell phone into his pocket. “Finally,” he whispered. It had been a few weeks since he had last heard from G.G. Sammy needed coins. Any amount would do. Still, only five? It was something, but not nearly enough.

  He exhaled sharply, trying to quell the stress that rattled his nerves. It didn’t help; there was too much to simply blow it all away. Those new recruits were arriving sometime soon, and that meant the next payment was due. The Network had been ratcheting up the pressure to get their money. If only things hadn’t gotten so screwed up following the last shipment. Sammy uneasily pinched the bridge of his nose. And the time before that hadn’t gone so smoothly, either.

  An image of the coins dangled in his vision. The Network loved them. Practically craved them. It had to be the reason Sammy and Ariek were still alive and breathing. If only he could figure out a way to gather those other coins, then his problems would be solved tenfold. Sammy squeezed his frustration into his fist. All the things they had tried hadn’t shown any promise. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  Sammy unintentionally brushed his hands over his crotch. The burning ache intensified. He walked even faster across the lot to try to quench the fiery lust. Aryssa should have just given him what he wanted. She had eagerly done it before, and she had to be more than willing to do it again. Why was she making things so difficult?

  If only he could have slid his hands across her smooth skin and taut body. Gripped her luscious hips. Run his tongue across her slim belly and along the inside of her yearning thighs. Up toward the inviting warmth of her…

  Honk!

  Sammy shuddered. Sprang sideways away from the grill of the black SUV. The man in the car raised his hands in irritation and mouthed something unpleasant.

  Sammy scowled. “Why don’t you watch were you’re going!”

  The SUV sped by. The driver extended his middle finger.

  “Same to you, asshole!” Sammy shouted. Swung his arm to brush the moment away. “Hope you get in an accident.” He grabbed the door handle to his convenience store and yanked it open.

  His nephew was behind the counter, exactly where he was supposed to be. Thank goodness for the small things. Except he still had that dopey expression painted across his face. Jaw slowly chomping on a piece of gum as if it were a cow’s cud. Cheeks drooped. Eyes glazed in a sheen of boredom.

  “Hey, Uncle Sam,” his nephew called out sluggishly.

  “How’s things?”

  “Yeah.” His nephew slowly exhaled. “Good.”

  Sammy quietly sighed. He shook away the last pieces of his irritation that the SUV driver had given him, but his nephew’s presence immediately filled the void. “How was the morning rush?”

  His nephew shrugged. “Fine.” Stared at Sammy as if he was going to say something else, but his lips failed to move.

  Sammy bit his tongue to prevent the barrage of expletives from exploding out of his mouth. “Better than bad news, I guess,” he said in his best positive tone. “By the way, did you get those boxes of gum out onto the shelves?”

  “Umm…” His nephew bit his lip. “Been kind of busy.”

  Sammy glanced over the aisle and down the glass cooler
s along the walls. A single customer was looking over the bottles of chilled coffee. There were two, maybe even three, cars at the gas pumps. Plenty of time to get the gum stocked. Not like the task required any large degree of intelligence. He opened his mouth, but instead swallowed the sarcasm that was ready to rifle out of his throat.

  “Can you please get them stocked sooner rather than later?” Sammy flicked his wrist. “And maybe straighten this place out a bit. You know, make it clean and presentable.”

  His nephew was reluctant to speak. “I suppose.”

  Sammy quietly grumbled. Exhaled slowly. “I’ll be in my office for a moment, then I have to run an important errand.”

  “Sure.” His nephew lethargically turned as if he were an old clock running on rusted gears. He grabbed the microphone. “Umm…pump five.” A sharp scoff. “Like, you need to press one of those blinking buttons if you want it to work.”

  “Do you think you could be a little friendlier when you do that?” Sammy questioned.

  “I was,” his nephew countered. “How is it my problem if they can’t understand something so easy?”

  “It’s not how you do business,” Sammy replied. “It’s called customer…” His nephew was back to gazing over the lot. Sammy silently growled again. “Just keep the place running while I’m gone.”

  “Uh-huh,” his nephew responded absently.

  Sammy stomped into his office and nearly slammed the door, but caught himself before it launched out of his hand. He glanced at the boxes stacked in the corner. Boxes of cups and lids for the soda and coffee. Candy and gum. Cell-phone supplies. Cigarettes. Lighters. Cleaning supplies toward the bottom. At the very bottom were the animal banks. Stuffed animal banks, to be exact. The kind meant for kids. A box he had gotten for dirt cheap from one of his suppliers, but had never bothered to display in the store. There were elephants, raccoons, dogs and cats. Only one bear, but it was one special bear. He purposely kept the box on the bottom of the stack, because, well, who would want to rummage through something like that?