I rushed back to the apartment after making the deal with Bob and immediately hid the Straightedge blade in my bedroom, happy that, though he had been home, Gabe completely ignored me as I marched through our home.
I had a feeling the two of us wouldn’t be speaking much until whatever was going to happen actually happened. I was alright with this.
I rummaged through my room, looking for the perfect place to hide the knife, but every time I thought I’d found the place, a different “what if” scenario popped into my head. The last thing I wanted was for Gabe- or anyone else- to find the knife before I even had the chance to use it; not that I wanted to use it at all.
And truth be told, I had given Bob a significant discount on his Manic purchase in exchange for the knife, which meant Gabe and I had now stolen almost six thousand dollars from Harrison. Geet would be coming for the missing five thousand any minute, and if he asked for the money I had made from Bob Shank earlier that day, I was screwed.
I continued to dig through my bedroom, finding myself slightly annoyed at how neat and tidy it was; if it was a messier room, I might have had an easier time finding a hiding place for giant hunting knife.
As I looked around, out of ideas, my eyes settled on a large painting hanging above my bed when I moved in, and I decided if the knife would fit, sliding it between the canvas and the wall would be as good a hiding spot as any. The painting depicted a naked man and woman (maybe dead?) lying on a brick floor, draped by an American flag in a way that made the red stripes look like blood. It was a dark painting, to say the least, but I had grown to like it.
“Jamie, get in here,” Gabe called from the other room. I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. Whatever he wanted; it could wait.
I grabbed the canvas and pulled it away from the wall far enough to place the knife behind and was pleased to find it fit perfectly.
When I turned back around, Gabe was standing in the doorway, eyeing my suspiciously. I couldn’t be sure if he had seen me hiding the knife or not, but by the way my body was positioned, I thought I had blocked my actions from his line of sight.
“We have a visitor,” he said. His face was far from amused, and I could tell he was talking about Geet.
“I’ll be right out,” I said calmly. My goal was to remain as cool and collected as Gabe, if not more so.
Moments later, I was standing next to Gabe, opposite Geet, waiting to find out what was going to happen with the missing money. If I had any kind of luck, Gabe would miraculously decide to hand it back over to Harrison, but I knew the chances of it happening were less than slim.
“How are you, gentlemen?” Geet asked, smiling widely. As I looked from him to Gabe, it became clear to me how much the two actually looked like brothers. Both shared the same thick black hair, though Geet’s was pulled into his signature ponytail. Their eyes and facial structure was also almost identical, and because Gabe hadn’t shaved in a few days, their facial hair was even similar.
“Cut the crap, Geet,” Gabe said, obviously annoyed. “You’re here for the money, but you’re wasting your time.”
My heart sank as Gabe spoke. There was nothing about the sound of his voice nor the words coming from his mouth that told me he was even considering giving the money to Geet.
“Can we talk about this? Like, really sit down and talk about this?” I asked, trying to stop any kind of violence from happening before things got too serious.
“I think we’ve talked enough, to be honest,” Geet said, cracking his knuckles.
I turned to Gabe, knowing talking any kind of sense into him would be practically impossible. “Is this worth dying over?” I asked. “It’s not even that much money.”
“It’s not about how much money it is,” Gabe growled, not taking his eyes off Geet. “It’s about how we’ve been treated like slaves since we were brought to this place against our will. We were robbed by Harrison back in Hastings, Jamie. Never forget that.”
Geet let out a laugh. He seemed pleased.
“You know it’s true,” Gabe began. I cringed at the thought of him going off on another angry tirade, but at the same time, the longer he talked, the longer I got to live. “I set up a deal with Harrison personally. His two employees were to meet up with Jamie and I, and we were to trade cash for weed. You know that’s not how it went down! You both know we were not in the wrong. Things went south, so we took the money and ran, just like anyone else would have done, but that doesn’t change the fact Harrison was going to rob us first.”
Geet nodded his understanding. “Yes, baby brother, but when you ran, you took the weed and the money. That’s where this all comes back on you two. You went into hiding with both ends of the deal in your pockets.”
I stepped in. “In our defense, we took the van without knowing the drugs were in the back. We just needed to get out of town before more police showed up. It wasn’t our intention to…”
“How about those police, Jamie?” Geet asked. “It was awfully convenient how they showed up just as the deal was being made. The fact Harrison planned to rob you aside, how would the police have known where to be, and when to be there?”
I glanced to Gabe, trying to hide the shame on my face as he looked at me questioningly. The thought might have never crossed his mind, but if it hadn’t, he was now curious as to how Officer O’Kelly had busted into my house that day.
“So, where’s the money?” Geet asked.
“Fuck off,” Gabe responded.
I let out a defeated sigh.
“I guess we get to do this the fun way then.”
Geet walked to the front door and opened it, motioning another man in a suit to come in. He walked across the room towards us, and I recognized him immediately as the henchman with the disfiguring scar running along his face who had helped in the capturing of me and Gabe back in Weed. He gave me a sadistic nod and smile as he continued past Geet, coming closer and closer to the two of us.
Before either of us could react, Scarface had placed Gabe in a chokehold and Geet had grabbed me and forced my arms behind my back. He continued to zip tie my wrists together, making escape about as possible as thinking we would actually make it out of this with our lives.
“Wait!” I yelled, but before I knew it, I was being ushered to a chair across the room, watching helplessly as Gabe struggled to breath with Scarface’s bicep pressing against his throat. He tried to cough, but couldn’t even manage to do that.
“Let him go! You’re going to kill him!” I yelled. Geet forced me into a sitting position and immediately began securing my ankles to the legs of the chair with two more zip ties he had pulled from his pocket. I made an attempt to squirm my way out of the chair, but before any progress could be made, Geet slammed his palm against my chest to keep me still. After a second or two, I knew resisting wouldn’t end well for me, so I sat still. “Geet, please…” I almost whimpered.
“I think you’re going to need the duct tape for that one,” Scarface said smartly.
Geet smiled and walked over to a small backpack Scarface had tossed onto the counter upon entering the apartment. He returned with a roll of silver duct tape and pulled off a piece large enough to cover my mouth. “Don’t make me cover your nose, too,” he said as he stuck the tape to my mouth.
Scarface lugged Gabe’s almost unconscious body to the chair next to mine and proceeded to use the roll of duct tape to bind his arms and legs to the chair as he lolled his head from side to side, trying to speak, but only making low, mumbling noises.
Geet entered the kitchen and removed a pitcher of water from the refrigerator, bringing it into the living room, standing in front of Gabe’s lifeless body; he had stopped lolling his head and had now gone limp.
“Don’t go to sleep, little brother,” Geet said kindly. “We only had to knock you out because we were worried you’d put up a fight and end up getting yourself killed. We need you alive for the moment.”
Gabe remained motionless, prompting Geet to take th
e pitcher of water and dumped it over his head, drenching him in an ice cold shower and causing him to let out a startled shriek as his body jerked awake. I had seen people use cold water to wake others up in movies, but had no idea it would actually work in real life.
“Stay awake, Gabey, or you’ll find our other methods of waking you up won’t be so friendly,” Geet said. “Now, we can stop this torture before it starts- because I am going to torture you if you don’t talk- if you just tell me where the money is.”
Gabe, water dripping from his hair and face, his teeth gritting together in both pain and anger, glared up at his brother, but didn’t say a word.
“Really?” Geet asked.
I saw Geet raise the pitcher into the air, but was powerless to do anything but squirm in my chair and make moaning noises beneath the duct tape over my mouth as he brought the pitcher down and shattered it against the side of Gabe’s head. Shards of glass sprayed across the room, several of them landing in my hair and lap, and Gabe’s head jerked to one side, a small amount of blood dripping from his mouth when it came to a stop.
Despite his injuries, Gabe managed to raise his head and let out a small laugh. “You’re starting with the big guns, aren’t you?” he asked.
Geet shook his head. “If you think that was a big gun, you’re going to break a lot quicker than I thought you would,” he said. “Where’s the money?”
Gabe spat more blood onto the floor, but refused to speak yet again, welcoming more punishment from Geet.
As Geet pulled a book of matches from the backpack and lit one, Scarface spoke up momentarily. “What about the other one? What if he’ll talk?”
“He doesn’t know anything, or else we would already have the money back,” Geet said, then instructed, “Leave his mouth covered, but make sure he watches. I want him to see his friend suffer for what they’ve done.”
The torture went on for what seemed like hours. After each method, each slightly worse than the one before, Geet would ask Gabe the same question, “Where is the money?” But each time, Gabe would refuse to speak. He managed to keep his mouth shut through being burnt with matches, having lit cigarettes (his own) put out on various parts of his body, having three of his fingernails ripped out, and even made it through a homemade version of waterboarding before I thought I was going to either pass out or vomit from merely watching.
As Geet grabbed Gabe’s left index finger and placed it between the blades of a pair of pliers, I let out a muffled shriek from beneath my duct tape gag, effectively getting both men’s attention.
Scarface violently removed the duct tape from my mouth while Geet stared at me blankly, still holding Gabe’s finger between the pliers. “What?” he asked, exasperated.
I looked at Gabe’s broken body, still conscious, but only sitting up in the chair because he had been tied to it. His shirt had been removed and small burns covered his torso. His right hand was covered in blood from having lost his fingernails. Sweat poured down his face, but he still managed to look at me as if saying “Don’t be stupid.”
There were times I hated Gabe, but no one on earth deserved this kind of treatment.
“WHAT?” Geet roared.
“I-I-I know where the money is,” I stammered with panic more than evident in my voice. “Gabe told me where it was hidden before you got here today. I can take you to it, but only if you stop.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, dropping Gabe’s hand. “Tell me now, and he keeps his fingers.”
Gabe raised his head slightly, staring at me, wondering what I would possibly say since he had in no way, shape, or form given me even the slightest clue where the money had been hidden. He furrowed his brow at me, but I ignored him. Even if a small part of me thought he was getting what was coming to him for being so stubborn about the money, I knew I couldn’t stand to watch him be tortured any longer.
“There’s a bridge,” I began. “There’s a bridge just outside of Shelby, where Harrison has his factory. Gabe buried the money under the bridge.”
Without another word, Scarface was cutting my zip ties and lifting me out of the chair by my shoulder. He ushered me towards the front door as Geet made sure Gabe was effectively tied to the chair and that he wouldn’t be able to escape.
Minutes later, I was being shoved into the back seat of a black SUV. Geet turned around from the driver’s seat and grinned at me. “You’re taking us to the money, and if we find out you’re lying, I promise you everyone you love is going to die.”
(Dig)
Old Habits Page 20