by C. Penticoff
By the way my heart was beating rapidly, I felt like I'd just ran a mile. I looked at my brother and he mouthed the words I'm sorry. I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, but I knew that he had something to do with this and I wasn't sure what. I gave him a sideways look and he knew I was asking him what he meant. He placed one pointer finger on one nostril and sniffed, and I knew that meant he was referencing the coke. But what did he mean?
We didn't sell it to any of these people. I didn't recognize any of them. Are they one of the people at Kyle's house? I asked myself. No, they can't be because Tyson doesn't know Kyle or any of his friends. None of this was making sense.
Suddenly a light bulb turned on in my head and I knew exactly what was going on. "Did you steal it?" I whispered. He didn't respond. He only frowned, which said everything. I'm going to kill you, I mouthed. How could he do this? He's been known to do some really stupid things in his life-- like the time he mooned a police officer-- but this was some Grayson-level stupid. Tyson-level stupid is like stealing beer from a supermarket, or cheating on his girlfriend with a stripper. I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t. Unfortunately I didn't know if we were going to come back from it.
"What's going on?" I asked our kidnappers, playing stupid.
The man, who I assumed was the one who grabbed me, reached his arm back from the passenger seat and backhanded me right across my cheek. I winced as I held my battered cheek. I tried my hardest not to make any sound so he didn't know he had the upper hand... Literally. I resisted the urge to jump into the front seat and start wailing on the mother fucker. I may not have been as rough around the edges as some of the people who I grew up around, but I still wasn't the one to fuck with. One time, in seventh grade, a bully pulled me down to the ground by my braids. I slammed her against the wall by her throat and threatened her life. I didn't necessarily hurt her, but I didn't need to. A good threat goes a long way. But that was nothing compared to the time I kicked a girl across her face for picking on Grayson for being gay. Grayson and I may have been the worst twins, in terms of how much we fought growing up, but nobody was going to fuck with him, especially not for being gay.
There were other instances of fighting in my past, too, but no matter how scrappy I could get, I was going to have to let this one go to save mine and Tyson's life, which I knew was on the line. Not to mention, it's not like I could take these two beefy men anyway.
After pulling up to a driveway of a house located in the country of Kelso we were bound with rope with our hands behind our backs and led into a house.
We were shoved onto the couch inside the living room, and I can't quite explain the throbbing I felt in my chest and the lump forming in my throat. I'd never been manhandled that way in my life. They didn't care what it felt like to get thrown down when you can't use your hands to block your fall; and I can't explain to you how uncomfortable it is to have your hands tied behind your back while sitting down. It's an awful mixture of pain and discomfort. But I was quickly distracted from that when the man who was originally in the driver seat started talking to us with a gun in his hand.
"Tyson. I stumbled across the movie that I would love for you to watch. It gets five stars in my world." The man pulled out his phone and flicked out a little kickstand on the back to stand it upright on his coffee table so we could see it. It was a 2-minute video clip of Tyson breaking into his back door and taking something from his bread box in the kitchen. I'm sure you can guess what that something was.
"Now can you guess what the fuck was going through my mind when I saw this?"
"I'm so sorry, Derek. You don't understand my family and I can't make rent-"
Derek pointed his gun to the ceiling and fired. Boom! Tyson sunk into the couch with fear in his eyes.
"Do I look like I give a flying fuck about your rent? Ain't my problem. Now where the fuck is the coke?"
I swallowed. I knew what was coming next, or at least a few different scenarios of what could happen. My brother having to tell this deranged coke head with a gun that the shit he stole from him was sold already, and said-coke-head shoving his gun up both our asses was one possible scenario. What's he going to do? Was he going to tell us we had to pay him back? Was he going to make us go to the houses of the people we sold it to try and get it back? Or was this dick head just going to drop a bullet in our heads right then and there? My thoughts went right to my sisters, Prissy and Coyote. What if this dude cuts us into pieces and throws us in Lake Sacajawea? If we were going to die, what would happen to them? They'd be separated and their lives would change forever. There's no way my mom would shape up enough to take care of them. My mom would always be a druggie first, a friend to her druggies second, a whore third-- and now that I'm making this list I don't even know where on it would say being a mom.
"W-well. I actually s-s-sold it." Dude. My brother's teeth were chattering while his lips trembled as he spoke. I'd never heard him sound this scared in my life, and I realized, once again, I would have to be the strong one.
My knees quivered.
I don't know if I can do this.
Doubtful thoughts swirled through my mind as I tried to muster up the strength to hide my vulnerability.
Derek stomped to my brother and shoved the barrel of the gun into my brother's throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He fiercely cocked the gun and my heart sank.
"It was me." I said this with as much strength and conviction as I could.
Derek's lip curled and looked me dead in the eye. "What?"
"I'm the one who made him steal it and sell it. He wanted to bring it back, but I made him sling it instead," I lied. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, but instead I stared him right back, hardly ever blinking. I needed him to think I wasn't scared, even though my insides trembled.
Derek stood up and took a few steps back, switching his gaze back and forth from me to Tyson.
"So, which one of you has the money to pay for that?" He was now feet away from us, but he kept his gun pointed at Tyson.
"Me. Well, I will. Once I get a job--"
Bang!
He fired a shot again, but this time it was above Tyson's head. I'm pretty sure I watched the bullet cut a strand of Tyson's hair.
"You've got one more chance before one of your innards are splattered on this wall. I said, who the fuck has the money to pay for this?"
"I do," an oddly familiar voice from the window said.
My head spun quicker than hell, hoping to God almighty someone who could save us was there. Kent! I couldn't believe it. What the hell was he doing there?
Derek looked at his two other men and motioned for them to watch us.
"Who the fuck are you?" Derek said to Kent.
"Whatever she owes you, I'll give you five times as much. Just let me in."
"You a cop?"
Kent laughed out loud. "Not exactly."
"How the fuck do I know you ain't a cop?"
"If I was a cop, I wouldn't come strolling up the window asking to come in. I'd sneak in behind you and blow your brains out. Let me in, and you'll get your money and then some. The cops won't ever have to know about this."
Derek looked at his croney and lifted his head toward the door, and his friend opened it.
When Kent walked through the door, Derek's demeanor changed. He seemed to be tiptoeing compared to his obnoxious stomping from before. It was like he was caving in almost. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he feared Kent.
Maybe he thinks he might be a cop.
"Where can we talk in private?"
Derek and Kent went off somewhere down the hallway for what felt like a year. When they came back, Derek seemed chipper compared to his psycho behavior prior, and he held a folded up piece of paper in his hand, which I could only assume was a check.
"Don't ever step foot on this property again," Derek barked at us.
"You're free to go," Kent told us as he opened the door. He stood by it, which told me he was ready f
or us to be gone as soon as possible.
We walked to Kent's car without him even needing to offer a ride. There was no way I was leaving that property on foot, and judging by how Kent paid for us to leave, I didn't think he'd mind.
Tyson climbed into the back and I was in the front.
"What the fuck just happened?" I broke the silence while Kent did forty out of the driveway.
"What happened is you guys were dumbasses and tried to sell stolen coke."
"We needed to pay rent. Plus, I didn't know." I explained. I shot my head toward Tyson. "There's only one dumbass in this car."
"I'm sorry," was all he said. He didn't have to say more. Tyson knew he fucked up royally and it was written all over his frown. Part of me felt bad saying anything at all because I knew he felt guilty, yet I couldn't help but to call him out.
"You ever do something like that again, I'll kick your ass. If we get out of it alive, that time." I threw my hand up while I said that, then turned to our knight in shining armor - who was still wearing a polo shirt and khakis, like the first time I’d met him. "Kent, first of all, thank you so much. That doesn't even cut it." I resisted the urge to pull my smokes out, remembering Kent wasn't a smoker. “Secondly, how in the hell did you know we were taken?" It had taken until that moment when I realized how bizarre it actually was that he was there to save us. When I first saw him at Derek's, I was shocked, but I didn't have time to put too much thought into it since I was staring down a barrel of a psycho cokehead's gun.
Was he following us? Following me?
"I was stopping by to say hi since I had to check on one of the properties. I pulled up right when he put you into the SUV."
"Didn't you just check on the property?"
"Yeah, so. I sometimes go to the same property twice in one day."
"Why didn't you call the cops when you saw him kidnap us?"
"I don't know, Izzy. I was in shock. I didn't want to lose him and by the time I got there I realized it might be more effective to bribe him." He pursed his lips. He seemed irritated at my questions. I guess I couldn't blame him. He just saved my ass for the second time and I was interrogating him.
"Sorry. I'm just shook up still."
"It's fine," he reassured me. "I get it."
***
Kent dropped us off at home, and when I got inside my apartment, I ran in and hugged Prissy--after thanking Kent a million times, of course.
"Thanks." She hugged me back. "What's the occasion?"
"I just missed you, sissy."
"Miss you too." She squeezed me tighter.
"How's Coyote?" I asked her as I pulled away.
"She's fine. Sleeping."
"Thank you so much for getting her to bed. You're the best. I'm really sorry we're so late." I looked at my phone to see it was nine thirty at night.
"It was really no problem."
Riiiiing.
"You still haven't changed that awful ringtone?" Tyson asked, turning on his video game and flopping down on the couch.
Seriously, how can he just play his video game as if he didn't just almost get us chopped up? I looked at the screen of my phone which read Grayley Goose, my nickname for him. "Grayson," I said out loud.
"Oh, let me talk to him," Tyson said. He loved Grayson. Grayson was his hero. Even after all the terrible shit Grayson did, Tyson still looked up to him like he was a role model. Trust me, I loved Grayson more than anything--he was my twin-- but Grayson wasn't exactly hero material. Tyson needed to look up to someone more stable so he could graduate high school and hopefully go to college and make something of himself. Shit, even if he just got a normal job and supported himself I would've been satisfied.
"Hello," I answered.
"Hey, sis." Instantly, I could hear the spirit in his voice. The spirit of the twin bro I grew up with. The one I used to have bike races and mud pie contests with. "We get a quick phone call tonight, so I wanted to talk to you guys."
"How ya doing, bro?" I asked.
"I'm really good. I'm over the detox part and moved to rehab today."
"That's awesome, Grayley Goose. Are they nice?"
"Super nice. I'm still a little nervous, so I haven't opened up yet."
"It'll get better each day. How long are you there for?" I wanted to tell him how happy I was that he was doing well and how relieved I felt to have him sober. But, honestly...verbalizing that would break down that wall. That wall I built to protect me from ever getting hurt by my brother again. It took me awhile to accept that I wasn't ever going to have a relationship with him again, so accepting him back into my life fully was going to take some time.
So instead of going on and on, I figured mostly listening would do.
"I'll be here for thirty days, then it's outpatient treatment every day for a while. Speaking of, they asked me where I was going to come after I was done with rehab."
"And what did you say?"
"I told them I wasn't sure yet. That it was between either home, or back where I was before. Or homeless."
"Oh." I didn't know what to say.
"Have you thought more about me coming there?"
"Yeah." I wasn't going to lie. I'd thought about it a lot.
"Whatcha thinkin'?"
"I don't know, Gray. Let's just get you through rehab. Take it one day at a time, ya know?"
"Okay." He said this with hope in his tone.
I saw Tyson waving and gesturing a phone with his right hand to his ear. I could take a hint. "Okay, Tyson wants to talk to you. Love you, Goose."
"Love you too, Frizzy." He started calling me this when we were ten years old because of my frizzy hair. I had managed it well with product when I was a teenager, but if I were to let my hair dry without applying product, it would look like I had been electrocuted.
Tyson grabbed the phone and grinned when Grayson's voice came through sounding sober as the Pope. "Hey, man. I've missed you." He paused while Grayson talked. "I'm so glad, bro. You have no idea." He looked at me and placed his hand on the speaker of the phone so Grayson couldn't hear him. "Sober." He gave me a thumbs up. This was the first time Tyson was hearing of Grayson being sober.
He's so excited, I thought as I watched Tyson and Grayson shoot the shit for a few minutes. I was torn between feeling happy to see Tyson so elated with Grayson, and wishing Tyson could build a wall of steel like me. Tyson didn't have that skill quite yet. His hopes were definitely up about Grayson, and I hoped like Hell Grayson wouldn't break his little brother's heart.
It wouldn't be the first time, but believe me, if Grayson fucked up again…
It would be the last.
Chapter Ten
It was Friday evening, my belly was still full from a delicious lunch, rent was paid, and it was time to start getting ready for my date with Kent. it was nice to be able to relax a little bit and not have to worry about a looming eviction. I was pretty sure the electricity was going to be shut off any day now but at least we'd have a roof over our head. I'd gone without electricity for an entire month before. It's real fun having to boil water to take sponge baths and hand wash your clothes in the bathtub. It wasn't pretty but if I had to do it, oh well. I wasn't exactly sure when the utility company would shut our electricity off because I'd been avoiding their phone calls for the last few weeks, but what I did know was the electricity bill was a couple months past due. In fact, I looked at the unopened new bill we got in the mail earlier that day which would tell us what our new balance was. The last balance made me cringe and I didn't even want to know what it was by that time.
I really need to find a job, I thought. Stop thinking about that, Izzy. Just get ready and go enjoy yourself with Kent tonight.
I wasn't totally sure about Kent's intentions before, but I feel like he was kind of proving himself. I mean, he somehow got my former boss to pay me the money he owed me, which paid half my rent. And then he paid off Derek, the psycho coke dealer. So I guess I would start giving him the benefit of the doubt. But, I still didn
't fully understand what he wanted with a poor girl from the slums of Longview like me.
In my room I thumbed through the clothes I had hanging up in my closet. My go-to going out dress was dirty and to be quite honest with you I didn't think it was appropriate for a night like I was about to embark on. I didn't know exactly where we were going, but I knew enough about Kent to know he was going to pull out all the stops. Look at what he had done thus far to gain my affection. I imagined there'd be a fancy dinner with a room full of snobby rich people dressed to the nines, and my half inch below the butt black lace dress was probably not the best thing to wear to a place like that. But who knows, maybe I was wrong. The first night we met he took me to a backyard fight. This guy was proving to be pretty unpredictable.
I'm running about fifteen minutes behind but I promise I'll be there as soon as I can, a text from him read.
I responded, No problem. I'll probably be waiting outside so I'll see you pull up.
I wasn't really sure what I was going to wear as I looked through my closet. I didn't feel like I had anything fancy enough for the occasion. I grabbed a pants suit I bought from Ross, slapped a gold belt around my waist, threw some black high heels on, and hoped that would do.
"Not bad," I said as I rotated my ass back and forth in the mirror. Hair and makeup would be easy--I just straightened it and threw on some mascara and pink lipstick. I looked in the mirror and thought, not too shabby.
I waited for Bailey to get there before leaving the apartment. I didn't want Prissy to worry about watching Coyote if she didn't have to, and I certainly didn't want Tyson watching her when he had a final to study for, so I asked Bailey. She was more than happy to help because getting me laid was a weird past time of hers. I'm serious. Wingman? She invented the wing woman.
I knew Kent wouldn't be there for at least another fifteen minutes, and I wanted to smoke a cigarette real quick before he arrived, so I walked downstairs and around the corner to do the deed. It's not that he didn't know I was a smoker, but he didn't smoke and I know how non-smokers are about it--they hate it, even if they don't say it. Can you blame them? I knew it was a disgusting habit that I needed to kick, but today certainly wasn't that day. When I look back to my first cigarette, I want to laugh because I told myself I wouldn't get addicted. I liked the feeling it gave me when I first started. I remember sitting on the complex steps and smoking one of my first cigarettes and feeling like I was melting into the seat. It literally gave me a high. It took my tense body, forced it to relax, and made my head float. That's how it gets you! But the fucked up part is the euphoric feeling goes away right around the time you get addicted, so all you're left with is a smelly habit that slowly kills you.