Just a Little Junk

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Just a Little Junk Page 19

by Stylo Fantome

“Thank you?”

  “You see, it’s always been just my father and I,” Mal explained, moving out of her view behind the beam. There was a scrapping noise and he dragged a second chair around so he could sit in front of her. “My mother died when I was young. Then suddenly, magically, five years ago I find out I have a little brother. Awesome, right?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t get along with my brother too well,” she replied. He threw back his head and laughed, startling her again.

  This guy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic, isn’t he?

  “Then maybe you’ll understand. I wanted to like Archer, I really did. Took him under my wing, showed him the ropes of the family business. I didn’t know he was going to steal it all from me.”

  “Steal?” Jo asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Yeah. This fucking guy. This … nobody, this nothing, this … this … this piece of North Hollywood trash just strolled into my life and -”

  “Burbank isn’t really North Hollywood,” Jo interrupted.

  He was out the chair before she could blink and she shrieked as he slammed his palm against the beam above her head. He was so close to her, she could feel his breath on the side of her face.

  “Do I look like I give a fuck?” he growled. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away. “Some fucking stupid guy just walked in and stole my father, stole my position, stole my inheritance. I was supposed to be next in line, I was supposed to be my father’s right hand man. So what if I skimmed a little off the top? Who cares if I was using every now and then? It was my birth right, I’d earned it. I was first born, for shit’s sake!”

  Jo stayed silent, and after a moment, she felt him move away. When she finally opened her eyes, he was sitting back in his chair. She took a deep breath and thought quickly.

  “Yeah, um, I guess I could see how that would be awful. Someone you don’t even know suddenly getting all the attention,” she spoke fast, just trying to say whatever she thought he’d like to hear. He nodded and raked his fingers through his hair.

  “And it was like he couldn’t just wait to point out my fuck ups, you know? Fucking Archer. Just me and my dad, taking on the world.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, then she cleared her throat. “Okay, I know how you feel. You know everything about me, right?”

  “I had Bernard Krakow following you for about two weeks, so between that and Archer’s big fucking mouth, yeah, I know pretty much everything.”

  “Then you know I have an older brother – that’s how I met Archer, they were best friends. Everyone loves my brother Andy. He got good grades, he got records in every sport he ever participated in, he got a scholarship to college. So I know how you feel, I really do. It’s like … being invisible. It’s the worst,” she sympathized with him. He stared at the ground while she spoke, and she took the opportunity to shimmy her shoulders up and down, trying to work her arms loose.

  “The worst,” he whispered.

  “But I still don’t really understand. What do I have to do with any of this? I never even knew Archer was dealing drugs, let alone that you or your father even existed,” she told him. He sighed and lifted his head. She held still.

  “Archer is my dad’s favorite thing in the whole world,” he grumbled, staring off into the distance. “I couldn’t touch him directly – it would kill my dad, and then my dad would kill me. I had to get rid of Archer, but couldn’t figure out how. I thought about hiring a hitman, but I couldn’t be positive it wouldn’t get back to me. So I realized I had to find a way to make him leave on his own.”

  “Blackmail,” she whispered. He nodded.

  “My father offered to buy Archer his own home in Malibu, but he turned it down so he could stay close to you. That makes you a big fucking deal. I knew if I took you, he’d do whatever I wanted. He doesn’t care about money or drugs or women or any of that bullshit. Just you,” he told her.

  I suppose I should be flattered.

  “So that was your whole plan? Have Bernard Krakow kidnap me, hold me hostage or whatever, until Archer did whatever you asked?” she clarified.

  “Pretty much.”

  “And then what?”

  Silence. She swallowed thickly and felt sweat break out around her hairline. He was still doing his thousand yard stare, so she decided to risk it and she started working on her bindings again.

  “Like I said, nothing personal, Jojo,” he chuckled as he used her nickname.

  “Of course not. What’s a little thing like killing an innocent woman?” she laughed, almost wrenching an arm free. He abruptly looked over at her and she turned into a statue.

  “I couldn’t have you getting the law involved. It would’ve gotten back to my dad,” he explained. She nodded.

  “Sure, sure.”

  “I don’t know how it all got so fucked up,” he grumbled.

  “How what got fucked up?”

  “The plan. Danny Nguyen’s been desperate for years to get inside my dad’s operation, so it was easy enough to get in with them. I fed them information, and in return, I was basically given Bernard Krakow as my personal assistant. He was supposed to be showing me the way they did business, but I could see it was a shit show. So easy to take advantage of and manipulate. We came up with a plan to fuck over his boss, Nguyen. By the end, the shit we were selling for him was more baking soda than cocaine. And then I had him – Krakow had to do whatever I wanted. I told him if he didn’t, I’d rat him out to his boss. I’d be fine, I could always run home to Daddy. I thought it was the perfect plan. Get rid of Archer, and make a shit ton of money on the side. Perfection. What the fuck happened?” he growled.

  “Um, sounds like maybe you needed more time to plan things out?” she offered.

  “Suddenly I’m getting text messages from Archer, saying he fucked up and there’s a dead body and it’s Krakow. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I knew it would all lead back to me, so I called in Nguyen’s thugs to take care of it. Kill you guys, and then it would just look like Bernard was the traitor, not me. It’s all fucked now, though. Can’t go home because Archer tattle taled to Dad, and by now, Dad will have told Nguyen everything, so I can’t go back there, either. All because of you guys. You two are like cockroaches, you know? Fucking impossible to catch and kill.”

  “We do our best.”

  “You know,” he started laughing as he slowly stood up. “I can see why he likes you, but I honestly can’t see why anyone likes him.”

  “Sometimes, I think the same thing.”

  “But at least I can do one thing right before I leave the country,” Malcolm sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

  “Uh … what’s that?” she asked nervously.

  “I have you, which means I can make Archer regret ever coming into my life.”

  While he’d been talking, he’d started pushing at things on the screen of his phone. Jo took the opportunity to finally yank her right arm free of its restraints, but held it close to her side. As he lifted the phone to his ear and stared at her, she hoped he didn’t notice the slackness in the ropes.

  “Yeah,” he said as someone picked up on the other end of the line. “She’s fine, Archie … no … no … keep talking that way, and it’ll happen a lot sooner … you won’t find us, I’m miles from Malibu now … of course you can, hold on.”

  The phone was pressed to the side of her face. Her heart hammered in her chest – he was on her right side, and she was scared he would see that her hand was no longer inside the ropes.

  “Hello,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Are you okay?” Archer asked immediately. She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “Depends on your definition of okay. I’m tied to a beam and your brother is very, very, very upset. But other than that, yeah, I’m okay,” she answered, all the while staring at Malcolm. He smiled back at her. It was unnerving, staring into eyes so similar to Archer’s in a face that was so different.

  In a body tha
t’s so frickin’ crazy.

  “Where are you?” Archer continued.

  “Um, I don’t think Malcolm would appreciate me describing our current location,” she replied, and Mal nodded quickly.

  “Fuck,” Archer swore.

  “I know how you feel.”

  “Anything. Give me something, Jo. Help me find you,” he urged, but she was barely listening. Malcolm had taken one of his guns out of its holster and was spinning it around in his free hand.

  “Archer,” she sniffled, then she took a deep breath.

  “Don’t cry,” he said. “Please, don’t cry. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to find you, and I’m going to make him eat -”

  “I’m sorry I kicked you,” she said in a low voice as one tear fell down her cheek.

  “It’s okay. You can kick me as many times as you want. Help me, Jo! I can’t do this without your help. Are you in Malibu? Van Nuys? I’m out here, just help me find you!”

  “And I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I wish … I wish I’d told you so many things, before this weekend. I shouldn’t have been such a pussy,” she started sniffling again as the tears kept falling.

  “Stop talking like this!” he yelled. “You can tell me all the things you want as soon as I get you free. You’re a smart girl, Jo, think! Think, goddammit! Tell me where you are!”

  “What is wrong with me?” she moaned, blinking through the tears and looking straight up, trying to calm down. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I never said anything. Why didn’t I say anything?”

  “Jodi Morgan,” he spoke in a serious voice. “I am going to forget you said that to me, and I’m not going to say it back, because this will not be the first time we say those words to each other. I am going to find you, and I am going to save you, and then I won’t ever stop saying those words.”

  She laughed for a moment, choked on a sob, then laughed again. Her eyes wandered over the high ceiling while she listened to him speak. While she remembered all their moments together. His stupid jokes and her silly games and how at least two times, she’d gotten to experience true magic with him.

  Granted, once had been in a dead drug dealer’s apartment, and the other had been on a nasty mattress in some …

  She gasped so hard she started choking again. As she coughed and hacked, she stared up at the ceiling again. In one corner, the roofing was completely gone. Crumbled in, exposing metal beams and rafters, which seemed to be homes for several different birds that were flying around.

  “What’s going on!? What’s happening!? Is he choking you!?” Archer was yelling, but she ignored him and glanced around the room.

  She hadn’t recognized the space. She’d been nervous the first time she’d seen it, and mad and hungover the second time. Plus, what with a psychotic drug dealer threatening her life and all, she hadn’t been paying much attention to her surroundings.

  “I’m fine,” she croaked out, glancing at Malcolm to see if he’d noticed her reaction. He was still looking down at his gun. “I’m fine. My throat is just dry, I … I could really go for some orange juice right now.”

  “I will get you all the orange juice you want,” Archer promised. “You just need to -”

  “OJ,” she stressed. “A great big glass, it sounds great. Remember the last time we drank orange juice?”

  “Why the fuck would I remember …” he started snapping, but his voice trailed off as he caught on.

  “Your impulse purchase,” she spoke quickly. “Where’d you find a good place to, uh … pawn it?”

  Please please please, don’t be your usual stupid self. Please catch what I’m throwing out there.

  “Malcolm,” Archer hissed. “He’s the one who told me about the rave.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Mal demanded, suddenly catching onto the strange nature of her conversation. She took another deep breath.

  “He’s crazy, Archer,” she started speaking fast. “He’s going to kill me, he’s got guns. He wants to hurt me, and he wants to hurt you. He wants to punish you for -”

  Wow, getting slapped never felt good, did it? Mal’s palm crashed across her face so hard, she was pretty sure she’d have a permanent hand print on her cheek. When she finally lifted her head again, Malcolm had walked away and he was yelling into the phone. She practically started jumping up and down, trying to work her left arm free.

  “You hear that?” he shouted. “I’m gonna put a bullet in your fucking girlfriend! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

  Then he shouted and threw the phone across the room. It hit the concrete floor hard, and Jo watched as different pieces cracked and flew off.

  “I’m sorry!” she gasped as he rushed back to her. “I’m sorry, I was scared! I’m sorry!”

  “What the fuck is wrong with all of you!?” he bellowed, and suddenly both his hands were in her hair, shaking her head back and forth.

  “Stop it!” she screamed.

  As he jerked her around, slamming the back of her skull into the beam a couple times, her left arm finally fell free from the ropes. She raked her nails down his face, and in the split second he stopped shaking her, she jammed her thumb into his eye as hard as she could.

  He bellowed in pain and stumbled away from her, falling to his knees. She didn’t miss a beat, she instantly began shoving and pulling at the ropes around her shoulders, sliding out from under them. Then she bent over and yanked at the ones around her ankles, literally falling out of them. She was sobbing and crying and she was pretty sure she had a concussion, but she was free.

  “You bitch! You stupid goddamn bitch!” Malcolm was screaming.

  She was scrambling around on her hands and knees, just trying to crawl away from him, when he pointed his gun straight out and started pulling the trigger. He had one hand over his right eye though, which clearly seemed to effect his aim. Bullets flew around the room, but none of them came even remotely close to her. She was able to get to a door in the far wall and she crawled through it.

  Once she was on the other side, she jumped to her feet and started running. She didn’t remember the lay out at all, so she took a chance and ran through one doorways. It led to an abandoned office. While she stood there, breathing hard and looking around, she heard a door bang open.

  “Jooooodiiiiii,” Malcolm’s voice sang out, followed by two rapid fire gun shots. She dropped back to her hands and knees. “There’s no where to go! No one knows where you are, and no one is coming for you!”

  Don’t listen to him. Just get somewhere and hide. Archer knows where you are, and just pray that his dad really does love him more than Malcolm and is willing to turn that psycho into pig food.

  There was a door in the wall to her right, so she crawled over to it and slowly pushed it open. It led to some sort of work room, with lots of long tables. She cursed under her breath, then crawled between them to another wall with a door in it.

  “Jojo! C’mon, maybe we can be friends!” Malcolm’s voice was disturbingly close. In front of the office she’d just left, if she wasn’t mistaken. “I could treat you better than Archer ever did! I would never lie to you, and I would certainly never hide a dead body in your car!”

  Almost tempting.

  She moved through the door and found herself in what looked like a large storage closet. There were no other doors, and she almost yelled at herself for running into a dead end. If Malcolm came into the work room, she was as good as dead. But then she looked around, trying to see what was lining all the shelves.

  It looked like paint cans, but she couldn’t read the labels from the doorway. She crept all the way inside and slowly closed the door behind her, then she risked standing up and walking to the shelves. Some of them were paint, but mixed among them were also cans of paint thinner, primer, and turpentine.

  All which are extremely flammable.

  Jo had no clue what the warehouse had been home to before it had been abandoned, but clearly it had involved painti
ng in some way. On another shelf, she found drop clothes and stacks of newspapers. She almost felt like it was Christmas.

  After getting one can of turpentine open, she splashed it all over the floor, careful not to get any on herself and to keep it away from the door. She put a pile of newspapers and a drop cloth in a corner, then covered them in primer. Not enough to completely soak them through, but definitely enough to act as fire starter.

  Shit, to start a fire you need actual fire. How am I going to -

  The door to the work room burst open, causing her to step back so she was against the wall. She had another can of opened turpentine in her hand and she held her breath, trying not to breathe in any of the fumes.

  “Seriously, Jo,” Malcolm was yelling. “Please don’t make me search every room. I will be very unhappy if I have to do that.”

  She gasped as she remembered something. With her free hand, she felt all around her pockets. Her lucky Zippo! Archer had lit his Molotov cocktail with it, then he had handed it to her. She pulled it out of her fifth pocket and almost started crying again.

  You can do this. You will do this. Just stay calm.

  The door knob next to her rattled and she took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart rate. Malcolm was still babbling away. She had guessed right when she’d first met him – he really loved to hear himself talk. So much so, he wasn’t paying attention to much else as he pulled open the storage room’s door.

  NOW!

  Keeping as much of her body behind the door frame as possible, Jo leaned over and chucked the turpentine into Malcolm’s face. She immediately dropped into a crouch just before he started shooting again. He shouted and stumbled backwards, wiping at his face and body as if she’d just thrown acid on him.

  While he fumbled around, she opened her lighter and flicked the flint wheel. As a flame leapt to life, she lowered it to the path of turpentine she’d left on the floor. It instantly caught fire and raced across the room to the primer soaked stack of cloth and paper in the corner of the closet.

  “What the fuck is this?” Malcolm was screaming. She took a deep breath and moved out of the doorway, holding the flame low to the floor still.

 

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