Here Comes the Night

by Linda McDonald

  Through a wall of pain, he’d been listening to them talk nonstop pussy and bitch about their busted up hands from the beating they’d given him. He had felt like telling them to come over and check out what was left of his face.

  Blood had dried up in his nose and he was back to struggling for a decent breath. He was afraid even if the hood came off he wouldn’t be able to see. It hurt even to blink his swollen lids.

  A raw fear had gripped him since the moment he’d been grabbed in the alley. These guys were paid muscle, no one to reason with. Maybe he could figure out a way to approach the anorexic Twigs, but she was even scarier than the men.

  Buck knew he had been worse than stupid. It had been reckless and dangerous not to check in with these people as soon as the sun came up. He was sure now of some kind of invisible network that somehow relayed his winnings even before he left the game at dawn.

  At first he had been terrified they would kill him. Then he realized the situation was not that simple. They needed him alive to get their money, but they would never let this pass before inflicting a tough lesson.

  The sound of bags being set down and then Twig’s dry raspy voice announced, “Pizza and a twelve-pack, boys. Who’s hungry?”

  Jorge and Meatface scooted to her. “That’s why we’re in love with you, jefe,” Jorge said, slurring a little.

  “Dig in,” she said and strolled over to the couch. “How’s our boy?” She pulled off Buck’s hood. “Wow, you fellows had yourselves quite a Friday night, didn’t you?”

  “We had to bring him back around three times,” Meatface offered. “Our Sooner honcho has lost his stamina.”

  “You said call you while he can still talk,” Jorge said.

  Twigs stood over Buck. “Hey, look at me, High Roller.” Buck just sat, head drooped.

  Suddenly Meatface, waving a pizza slice in one hand, scooted over and whopped him upside the head. “Hey, show the lady some fuckin’ respect when she tells you somethin’.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” Twigs said to Meatface. “Enjoy your pizza.” Then she sat beside Buck and spoke low, intimately, with him.

  “The boys get a little excited sometimes when I let them loose. Looks like they went a little overboard.” She looked back up at them. “You give him the ‘ludes?”

  “Sure thing,” Jorge said a little too quickly. In fact, his eyes looked like he’d taken them himself.

  “Alrighty then. Let’s try this again.” She wetted down some paper towels at the industrial sink and handed them to him. “Here. Clean out your nose so you can breathe.”

  Grateful, Buck blew out the mucus slowly, but pain still shot through him. It did ease his breathing a little, though.

  “Better?” she asked. He nodded. “Okay, now do you remember why you’re here?”

  He nodded again.

  “There, that’s progress, see? Now we can move on to what happens next.” She rose and got a leather sheath out of her large purse. She pulled out a full-sized old time barber’s straight razor.

  Buck felt faint for a moment. “Oh, God,” he moaned, bile bubbling up in his throat, “what are you doing?”

  The flash of steel brought Meatface scurrying over immediately. Red pizza sauce dripped down the front of his shirt. “Alright, make-uh-my day. Where are you going to start?”

  Twigs shot him an annoyed look. “I’ll call you when I need you.”

  Meatface sauntered off, shrugging his eyebrows like Groucho Marx to Jorge.

  Twigs picked up the straight razor and touched her fingers to the edge. “Now, Mr. Dearmore, let’s just review. You knew you owed us the money…”

  Buck interjected. “Yes, but—”

  “Fifty thousand, plus interest. Yet who did you get in touch with last night? After you cleaned out the city’s patriarchs?” She quickly added. “I heard the old boys weren’t too happy.”

  Buck’s voice was shaky. “I was going to call, but it was the middle of the night.”

  Twigs mocked him. “Right. And I bet it was busy all day at the bank, too. Friday and all.” She leaned into him. “We gave you 12 hours, Mr. Dearmore. We’re not monsters.

  “I swear to God,” Buck began, “I know how it looks, but I really was—”

  She cut him off with a head shake. “No, no, we’re done talking, see? My instructions are to take one of your thumbs now, and another finger for every additional hour from now until we have your payment.”

  Buck barely held back a scream. He was sure he was going to throw up. “Oh no. No, God, please. I can’t—”

  Meatface, who’d been watching, mesmerized, piped up. “No more ‘Hail Mary’s’ for you, huh, big guy? Hey, Twigs, can I do the honors?”

  Jorge laughed. “Yeah, like man, you ain’t even going to be able to hold a football without thumbs.” Meatface started to pantomime someone without thumbs trying to pass a ball. This sent both guys into peals of laughter.

  Twigs snapped her fingers at them. “Listen up, now. How many fingers would that be before midnight, boys?”

  “School’s out,” Meatface said, waving off her math question.

  “Geez, you’re dumb as a stick,” Jorge scoffed at him. Then to Twigs, flirtatious. “Okay, so first we gotta find out what time it is. What time is it?”

  Twigs laughed and turned back to Buck. “Wait. What am I thinking? Buck here is the banker, the numbers man. How many fingers would that be, Buck?”

  Sheer panic had taken over Buck’s mind. He was throwing out anything now. “Listen. Do you know who I am? This will be huge news. Not just something buried somewhere, but splashed across the front page.”

  “Do you believe this guy?” Twigs picked up the straight razor. It glinted against the bare overhead bulb. She walked straight to him, motioning the boys to join her. “Move him over to the sink. Won’t be so messy.”

  “Why don’t we just take one for every hour we already been here?” Meatface complained. “That’d be practically one hand.”

  “We’re not cavemen,” Twigs said, then continued like a history lecturer. “In the old days, they’d take off their whole hands, you know. But that was a problem because most of them just bled out or died of shock. There’s an art to this shit. You don’t just go in whacking.”

  Buck felt reality slipping away as their muscled arms lifted him up and dragged him across the room. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t get a breath. The physical memory jolted him back to all those years ago when the stadium would roar to their feet on third and long, like an angry coliseum demanding a gladiator’s death. When even your teammates could look at you like you were the only one who’d fucked up. But Coach had told him a thousand times, “That’s when you let go of how things were supposed to work out. Then you got to make it up as you go. That’s all. Figure out your Plan B.”

  So between the cot and the sink, Dearmore let go forever of the idea of coming out of this unharmed. He had to do something. Fast.

  They got him in position, Meatface executing a bear hold on his torso, Jorge ready to put all his weight on his arm and hand.

  With a scary precision, Twigs flicked the razor and moved in. “Hold out his thumb, boys.”

  “Wait a minute,” Buck said. “Hold on just a second.”

  Twigs paused. “I’m listening.”

  “I still have it all, and then some,” Buck said. “I can take you to it.”

  “Hear that, fellas? Now he can take us to the money. Now that we’ve gone digital.” She laughed at her own joke. “You aren’t suggesting it’s at your place, I hope. Because we’ve already tossed that and didn’t find shit.”

  “No, not there, but it’s someplace safe,” Buck assured her.

  “You’re still going to lose the finger, you know,” Twigs said. “I can’t help that. It’s a done deal from on high.”

  “I know,” Buck said quickly. “I’ll take you there right now. All I ask is that you let me pick which finger.”

  Twigs’ smile was genuine. “Well, what do you
know, boys? The asshole thinks he’s a negotiator.”

  Chapter 22

  In the front seat of the abandoned Mustang, Buck Dearmore’s cell played Boomer Sooner to empty air. The car had been hidden so far off the shoulder of the road it might have escaped notice at night, but in the fading evening, its QRTBACK license tag glinted back at the orange slice of sunset. Bloody tufts of horse hair hung from the crevices of the crunched front fender.

  A half mile ahead, Tony and Erika walked, a stiff and terrible silence between them. Erika’s eyes were pink and swollen.

  “Will you stop fucking bawling,” Tony finally said.

  “We should have stopped and at least looked at her. Maybe we could have–-”

  “—gotten our asses arrested?” he finished for her.

  After a moment, she said, “Well, we can’t walk all the way back to the city. It’s practically dark.”

  “We can’t hitch a ride and be remembered either.”

  “What if a patrolman spots us and asks what we’re doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  Tony grabbed her arm. “Listen to me. I’m strapped. Okay?”

  Erika stared at him in disbelief. She could not scare up an ounce of sympathy. “Why do you need a gun?” Then, before he could answer, “Well, that’s your problem, Tony. If someone stops, I’m hitching.”

  Tony watched with slitted eyes as she walked ahead of him. She could be such a stubborn bitch. Still, watching her walk away, her butt swishing from side to side always turned him on.

  Chapter 23

  An upscale Safari motorhome, the $300,000 variety with wet bar and plasma screen, glided through the night. To add to the splendor, a car trailer in back towed a late model gold Porsche.

  Inside, a couple in their 50’s, wearing expensive new age clothes, passed a joint back and forth in the front seat. Dell Walker, graying hair to his collar, was tall enough to be imposing, but had more the demeanor of a good-natured giant. His wife Vivian wasn’t really pretty but was so well put together, from the ash blonde hair pulled up in a clip to perfectly made-up hazel eyes, that men found her immediately attractive.

  She had the understated confidence of someone so steeped in old money she had never had to prove anything in her life. In spite of exuding wealth, however, there remained a friendly openness about them.

  The Safari’s headlights flashed on a couple walking off the side of the road ahead of them. As the girl looked back over her shoulder into the motorhome’s lights, Vivian pulled at Dell’s elbow. “Look at those kids, honey. Let’s give them a ride.”

  Dell chuckled. “You sure? They’re probably escaping inmates.”

  Vivian chuckled at his joke. “He might be a greaser, looks like, but she looks innocent enough.” She clutched Dell’s shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  In response, he playfully pinched her breast. A visceral excitement passed between them.

  “You are such a party animal,” he said, resigned to her request.

  Chapter 24

  The 45-foot motorhome, its emergency lights blinking, pulled over a little ahead of Tony and Erika. She looked over at Tony, waiting for his response.

  “Not a good idea,” he said in a low voice.

  She shook her head at him. ”Fine, do what you want then.” She started up toward the Safari.

  Sometimes her oblivion was too much to believe for Tony. After wiping down the Mustang for fingerprints, he figured there was a decent chance he could slip through the cracks on the hit and run. But not if anyone could later identify them being only miles from where it happened. Now she was pulling this shit.

  But after what went down on that hill, he knew he had to just roll with it. It was too late to stop now. He was just coming down from the after effects of racing to escape and then hide the Mustang. From here on out, he would just have to play it by ear.

  All his life, Tony had battled with keeping himself in check or just letting it all go. Being “good” had always felt anything but good to him. But the dark side ran through his veins like mercury. Danger made his whole body tremble in a way liked. But afterwards, you had to do whatever was necessary to come out okay on the other side. If Erika didn’t like it, then that would be on her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been warned.

  “Hey, wait up,” Tony said to her. He felt for the gun inside his back waistband, just to check, then caught up with her. “Just act normal, understand?”

  She glared at him. “Now how am I gonna do that, Tony?”

  Aware the people in the motorhome were probably watching them, he tried to look casual. “Just straighten up. When we get back into the city, we can go to the cops and clear this all up.”

  “Oh, Tony, I’ve just been waiting for you to say that. You promise?” she asked, her face relaxing a little on hearing it.

  “I’m telling you I will, aren’t I?”

  “Thank you, Tony. Thank you.”

  She seemed so grateful, even if he was blatantly lying. Her naivete really amazed him sometimes. But she didn’t understand the stakes. Obviously, she’d never had her back to the wall. Nobody gets that until they’ve been there.

  The sliding entrance opened with a whoosh when they reached the door. The man at the wheel gave them a big smile. “Where you headed?”

  “The city,” Erika said.

  Tony quickly added, “Our car broke down.”

  Vivian motioned them inside. “That’s where we’re headed. We’ll give you a lift.”

  Erika gaped as she stepped into the motorhome’s opulent interior. “Wow, I’ve never seen one like this.” Looking at Tony. “Huh?”

  Tony nodded, trying not to look too impressed. He joked, “Where’s the big plasma screen?”

  But Vivian wasn’t joking. “Behind that cabinet.” She looked them over. “You all look beat. How about something to drink?”

  They nodded and Vivian got out an expensive bottle of champagne from the stainless steel fridge. She showed it to them. “This be okay?”

  Erika’s jaw dropped at the fancy label. Tony shrugged, but his mood improved right off. He knew old rich farts were always an easy target.

  Chapter 25

  Angie’s newfound buddy was a seasoned wrangler whose understanding of life started and ended on the rodeo floor. Probably a handsome stud at one time, now his furrowed brow read like hash marks for each bull who’d thrown him and added to the brain damage.

  He couldn’t understand what the hell the hottie next to him was talking about, but he could see down her blouse and if she got any drunker, he felt pretty confident he could get her to leave with him.

  “And he…” Angie lost her place for a moment. “So if somebody said they’d be somewhere and they’re not…what the hell do you do?”

  Wrangler maneuvered his arm around her back, getting his hand closer to her breast, and whispered in her ear. “You find somebody better. Like me.”

  “He lost his nerve,” she said, still caught up in her own world. “And he’s afraid to come tell me. That’s it.”

  Wrangler could nearly cup her breast with his long arm. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes.” He moved in to see if she’d kiss him. He’d used some breath spray last time he’d gone to the bathroom, hoping it would mask the chili dog with extra onions he’d gulped down just before she walked in.

  She let him kiss her but didn’t really participate in it. Still, he took it as a positive.

  “Listen,” he said, breathing in her ear, “wanna go somewhere else? More private?”

  Angie looked up at him as though she’d just realized he was there. He kept it up.

  “Whadda you say? We could go to—”

  “I want another drink,” she said flatly.

  “Or we could have another drink,” Wrangler quickly agreed. “Bartender?”

  Chapter 26

  Vivian had taken over the driving from Dell so he could offer their guests a couple of lines of cocaine. Tony sat across the bar from him as Dell too
k his own sweet time, meticulously cutting and recutting the lines. It seemed like at least a half hour he had been at it. Tony sucked on a cigarette and beer as he watched, about to scream from the wait.

  “Here, Erika, help me out,” Vivian called from the driver’s seat, holding up a half finished joint. Erika was still sniffing around the mobile home. That and a glass of champagne had kept her preoccupied.

  Tony didn’t mind. He was glad she didn’t look too conspicuous to the couple.

  “They’ve got a shower right on board, Tony,” Erika said. “And it’s enormous.”

  “I’ve seen a shower before,” Tony called to her, showing Dell a bored look to illustrate how much more sophisticated he was than his date. But Tony was starting to wonder if she was going to suck up to these people all night.

  “Isn’t she the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, Dell?” Vivian asked, following Erika in the rear view mirror.

  “Sure is,” Dell agreed, then turned to Tony. “So what do you do, Tony?”

  “I’m in livestock,” he lied. When Erika let a giggle slip, he gave her a sharp glance.

  “Huh. What kind of livestock?” Dell asked.

  “Cows, mainly.” Tony looked disinterested in continuing. He was ready for the coke lines.

  Erika plopped down in the passenger seat opposite Vivian and took a delicate hit off the joint. “What do you all do?”

  “Dell’s a lawyer, so I don’t have to do anything.”

  Dell shook his head with a smile. “Now honey. Don’t let her kid you, Erika. I may be a lawyer, but she’s got her own money.”

  Tony jumped in. “We gonna do those lines? Or is that just for show?”

  “Sorry, I almost forgot what I was doing. Let’s see if I got a bill.” Dell casually pulled out a C-note and handed it to Tony, who rolled it into a straw and quickly snorted up two lines.

  “Whew,” Tony’s eyes popped with surprise. “Talk about the good stuff.”