The Hard Way

by TJ Vargo

  * * * *

  It was still light when he pulled into the parking lot for his apartment complex. Riding through shaded back roads with his clothes dripping wet felt good, especially with Julia holding him tight. They hadn’t caught one fish, which wasn’t a surprise with the way she kept splashing around. But it had been a good time, and the cold water had helped his head. There was still a touch of pressure, but the pain was almost gone.

  He parked his bike and walked behind Julia toward the stairwell. The view was nice. A skinny, shirtless, longhaired kid barreled down the stairs holding his skateboard, nearly bowling Julia over. Curtis turned, watching the kid jump on his board and ride. Road rash covered the kid’s back.

  “Hold up for a sec,” said Curtis, touching Julia’s shoulder. He watched the kid try an aerial. The board shot from under his feet, dumping him on the pavement. The skateboard rolled into Curtis’s motorcycle. Curtis walked over to his bike, bent down and examined the wheel. He glared at the kid and picked up the board.

  “This yours?” he said, holding it up.

  The kid nodded.

  Curtis jerked a thumb at his motorcycle.

  “You hit my bike.”

  “Sorry,” the kid mumbled.

  Curtis scowled. He got on the skateboard and rode toward the kid, pushing hard to gain speed. The kid cringed. Curtis kicked down on the tail of the skateboard and went airborne, sailed by the kid, then landed clean. Turning, he rolled up to the kid, jumped off the board and kicked it in the air. He caught it and handed it to the kid.

  “Keep your feet in a V,” he said. “After you tail kick, slide a foot up the nose. And when you hit, bend your knees.” He wagged a finger. “I don’t want to see you falling anymore, got it?”

  The kid grinned and nodded. Curtis pushed him.

  “And don’t hit my bike no more.”

  Julia shook her head and laughed as Curtis walked toward her.

  “That kid’s gonna kill himself,” Curtis said. He took her hand and walked up the stairs to her apartment door.

  “You want to come in?” she said. “I think I have some beer.”

  Curtis looked down, examining his clothes.

  “I gotta take a shower,” he said.

  “Me too,” she said. “How long will it take you?”

  “How long you need?”

  “Give me fifteen,” she said, closing her door.

  It took Curtis five minutes to jump in the shower, wash up, brush his teeth and pull on a pair of jeans. He pumped out a set of fifty push ups before putting on a black tee shirt and a pair of old wrestling shoes. His hand was on his door knob when he looked at his watch. It was eight thirty. Mona had said to call at eight, that she’d know something about Big Blue by then.

  Shit.

  He dug his cell out of his front pocket as he walked out of his apartment. Mona answered on the first ring. He found out where she was, said he’d be right there, then shoved his cell back in his pocket. She was at Ricky’s Pub, a dark, well-established bar and restaurant that catered to rich people who drank five dollar beers and eight dollar cocktails. It would be easy to talk with Mona there—none of the usual rabble hung out there.

  He knocked on Julia’s door. If Julia was up for it, he’d come back after finishing with Mona. He knocked again. It might make for a fun night if Mona knew where he could find Big Blue. If that happened, Julia could keep her beer, they’d drink champagne. And it would be the good stuff.

  He put his mouth against the door jamb. “Julia, you in there?” he said.

  It was faint, but he heard a floorboard creak from somewhere in her apartment. Her voice was soft. “I’m not feeling well,” she said. “Can we do it another time?”

  “You need some aspirin or something?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just been a long day, you know? I… I gotta get some sleep for work tomorrow.”

  Curtis put his hand on the door knob, then looked at his watch. Mona wasn’t gonna wait long. He backed away from the door.

  “I’ll check in later to make sure you’re okay,” he said. “Sure you don’t need anything?”

  Hearing a soft, “No. I’ll be okay,” he stared at her door. The possibility that he’d done something to piss her off crossed his mind. It wouldn’t surprise him. Maybe it was that whole skinny-dipping thing. He looked at his watch, calculating if he had time to talk to her and apologize. No, Mona wouldn’t wait. He backed away from the door and walked down the hall. He’d smooth this over later.

  In less than fifteen minutes he’d be drinking with Mona.

  She’d tell him where Sonny and Fitz put his fish.

  His money and his dream were back in reach.

  Chapter Seven

  The hand gripping Julia’s bare shoulder kept her quiet. She wished the front door wasn’t locked. If she did yell it would take Curtis a while to bust in and, based on past experience, it would be a stretch of pain for her. She trembled. The hand on her shoulder pulled her toward the living room. She clutched her bath towel against her chest as she walked, feeling the cold linoleum turn to soft carpet as she walked into her living room. A shove knocked her off her feet. She fell on the couch, the bath towel riding up her hips, exposing her.

  “Cover yourself,” said James, pacing in front of her coffee table. “You can strip for your boyfriend later.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” said Julia, adjusting the towel to cover herself. Knees together, she looked at James

  “Can I get dressed?”

  “I wish you could,” said James, pulling the coffee table away from the couch. “But I found out what happens when I’m nice to you, so the answer is no.”

  She watched him sit on the table and scoot it forward until his knees were an inch from hers. He placed a clammy hand on her knee, then slid his hand up her thigh. The smell of his stale sweat filled her head.

  “I went through a lot to find you, so now you’re going to sit there and listen to me,” he said, his voice booming. “Do you understand?”

  She stared at him, silent, wishing she hadn’t jumped out of the shower and opened the door when he knocked. She blinked back an urge to cry, her mind racing. Just ten more seconds and it would’ve been Curtis at the door. But no, she had to run out of the shower and open the door with a big, fat smile. How stupid. If Curtis didn’t come back soon she was in big trouble.

  She looked at her old boyfriend and nodded. She wished she could stop trembling, but his voice scared her.

  Funny how that was what first attracted him to her.

  First time she heard him, voice booming as he walked the halls she mopped at Massey High School, she thought his volume made him important. It took one date in a dark, corner booth of a French restaurant on the Vermilion River—nearly an hour’s drive from Massey—to understand he talked loud because he thought loud equaled important. He was a live wire of insecurity, but she ignored her intuition. A month into their charade of dating, she’d seen enough to know he was an arrogant pig, but she decided to stick it out, convinced that the lifestyle he lavished on her was worth the sacrifice. It was a bad bargain and it gave loud-mouthed James Stockton, upstanding citizen and superintendent of Massey Public Schools, time to roll out his whole bag of tricks. She winced, feeling the scar on her cheek bunch. Yeah, he’d really enjoyed showing her he was boss in more ways than one. She flinched as he slapped her thigh.

  “People look up to me,” he said. “I’ve been asked more than once to run for office. And then there’s you. You’re nothing. You clean toilets for a living. You don’t leave a guy like me. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He gripped her thigh.

  “I said listen, I didn’t say talk. You need to learn how to listen. Understand?”

  “Yes. I—”

  The slap came out of nowhere. Her head snapped to the side and she went limp for a moment. Stars flashed and popped in a field of black. His voice surrounded her.

 
“That’s disgusting. Get your towel on. I’m not going to sit here and have you flash your tits at me. If I knew you were a whore I never would have had you in my bed.”

  The room spun. She fought to keep her head up and wrapped the towel around her.

  “Alright now, let’s start again. And this time, listen.”

  She nodded.

  “See? You don’t have to interrupt me. That’s not so hard, is it?”

  She shook her head and smiled. Her mouth was so dry she could feel her lips sticking to her teeth.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said. “You hurt me. I gave you everything and you repaid me by sneaking away. Maybe I got a little rough, but that was your fault. A girl from your background needs to know her place.”

  She nodded, her cheeks aching from holding the smile.

  He patted her cheek. “I shouldn’t even tell you this, but you scared me.”

  He got to his feet and started pacing. She wet her lips and rubbed the numb spot on her cheek, tensing as his voice sharpened.

  “I thought you were going to talk to somebody. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would have been for me? To admit I’d been seeing you? And in your condition people would’ve gotten all kinds of crazy ideas. Not that I would’ve admitted to your injuries—everyone knows a girl like you will lie to take advantage of someone like me. You would’ve been laughed out of town. But you left without telling me what you were going to do. You have no idea what that did to me. It was hell on me. Absolute hell.”

  The words at this point didn’t mean a thing to Julia. She’d been around James long enough to know his body language. And she could see he was at a tipping point. Puffing his chest out. Banging a fist on his thigh. Breathing through an open mouth. She pulled the towel around her as tight as possible. It was going to happen again. She looked at her hand clutching the towel in her crotch.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  James stopped pacing.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  “Look at me when you talk.”

  Julia swallowed, twisted a handful of towel against her chest and looked at James.

  “You deserve better,” she said. “I’m not good enough for you.”

  She inhaled quickly as he stepped toward her and grabbed her by the ears, sticking his face close to hers.

  “That’s my choice to make, not yours. And by the time I’m done, you’ll be good enough whether you like it or not. But, like everything else, it’s going to be up to me to make it happen.”

  He gave her ears a twist before straightening. Hands on hips, he loomed over her. She wanted to rub her burning ears, but kept still while he talked.

  “First off, you’re staying in Tombs. No one knows you’re here, so no one can get in my business. I’ll visit—might be every night for a while—and teach you how to treat a man. And you will learn how to be a proper woman.”

  She watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his chinos under the overhang of his belly.

  “But there’s a problem,” he said. “You ran. And you might think you can do it again.”

  She shook her head, mouthing, “No, no, no.”

  “And there’s also the notion of payback,” he continued. “You have no idea what the thugs in this town put me through while I was searching for you.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, undoing his belt. “You sit there and take what I give you. Some of it will feel good and some won’t, but you brought it on yourself. It’ll give you something to remember if you ever think about running again.”

  Julia listened to the soft clink of the buckle being undone and the slip of leather through belt loops as he pulled his belt free. James was as tall as Curtis, but much heavier, and his hand was huge and doughy as he wrapped the belt around his palm and knuckles. She looked at the front door, twisting the towel in her lap as her mind raced.

  “C’mon Curtis. Knock on the door,” she thought. “Bust it down and kill this guy.”

  “We’ll start with something you’ll like and move on from there,” said James, unzipping his pants.

  She inhaled sharply as he grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled her face forward, fumbling with his boxers. She looked at the door.

  “Stop turning your head. You’re just making it harder,” he said, yanking her hair.

  Pain shot down her neck as he twisted her head. The belt buckle in the palm of his hand cut into her scalp as he twisted her toward the sight of him pulling his boxers down. His pants and boxers slid down to his ankles. He grabbed the back of her head with both hands. She tried to pull away, but he was strong.

  As James wrestled to hold her head still, she let go of the towel and arched back, pulling away. James stepped forward, spreading his legs for balance. She punched him as hard as she could in the crotch. Her knuckles drove into his scrotum and pain flashed through her wrist as she hit his pelvic bone.

  He let out a strangled moan and dropped his belt behind her on the couch. Then he collapsed on her, blotting out light, sound and air. She could feel his belt buckle under the back of her neck. She tried to breathe and got nothing. She bucked and shrieked. His dead weight muffled her scream. Panic rose through her. She dug her left hand behind her neck, grabbed the belt and pulled. The buckle was caught on her neck. She gritted her teeth and pulled harder, feeling pressure build in her head. The buckle cut her neck as she pulled the belt free. A high-pitched whine filled her head. Her lungs screamed for air. She whipped the belt as hard as she could, feeling the solid whack of the buckle hit James’s back again and again.

  Blackness descended.

  And then air rushed into her lungs.

  At first she couldn’t move. She stared at the white ceiling, her chest rising and falling. The urge to lay there naked and do nothing but breathe was overwhelming. Every part of her body felt heavier than she could ever imagine. She turned her head. James rocked on his side, holding his groin.

  In an instant she was on her feet. She wrapped the end of the belt in her fist, swung the belt and caught the buckle in her free hand. The sound was slight. A mere clink. James opened his eyes.

  She jumped on his chest, looped the belt around his neck and pressed all her weight down. His face turned bright red as the belt cinched tight. Her entire body shook. A thread of saliva dripped from her mouth and fell on James’s chin as she stared into his eyes. He clawed at her back, then got a grip on her right elbow. The belt began to slip from her hand as he pulled her arm. She clamped her thighs on his chest, twisted the belt in her hand and lowered her face to his, trembling from the strain.

  His eyes dimmed. His grip on her elbow loosened. His pupils dilated and he went slack.

  She looked at the ceiling and breathed deep, taking her time before coming to a decision. Raising her right hand, she slapped James. It took three more loud, stinging slaps before he inhaled his first shuddering breath. She got off his chest and walked into the kitchen.

  She came back with a big pair of cooking shears. James groaned. She kept an eye on him as she unplugged the floor lamp next to the couch, cut the cord off and snipped the plug off the end. A drop of blood fell from her nose to the carpet. She cut the cord in half down its length. Another drop of blood fell on the carpet. She didn’t slow down or take her eyes off James.

  The blood would have to be cleaned up later.

  There was work to do.

  Chapter Eight

  “Is that you, Curtis Monroe? Last time I saw you, Anna was wearing a dress and you were in your dad’s suit for homecoming.”

  His eyes were still adjusting to the low light in Ricky’s Pub, but Curtis recognized the New York accent. He smiled, watching the mustached, small-framed man approach in jeans, a white-collared shirt and a camel sport coat.

  “Good to see, Mr. Tesla,” he said, noticing the gray flecking Tesla’s temples and what used to be a jet black moustac
he.

  “What’s with this?” said Tesla, brushing a lock of hair off Curtis’s shoulder. “You trying out for a role in Jesus Christ Superstar or something?”

  Curtis ran a hand through his hair. “You’re the actor, not me, Mr. Tesla.” Then he waited, knowing what was next. Having dated Tesla’s daughter, Anna, in high school, Curtis heard Tesla’s story of taking over the family restaurant after his father’s death many times. How it cut his Broadway career short, and how he was planning a comeback as soon as he could get someone to buy the restaurant. Curtis hoped he didn’t have to hear comeback talk tonight. It would only remind him of what might happen if he didn’t find his cash. Of how easily he could turn into Mr. Tesla—gray, wrinkled and talking about a dream that jumped the rails years ago.

  He followed Tesla past the hostess, listening to him ramble on about his daughter, something about her graduating from college and doing well for herself in a Richmond, Virginia law office. Curtis nodded and scanned the restaurant, half listening while he looked for Mona.

  Ricky’s was packed with beautiful people polished up for a night on the town. Candles flickered on the white-linened tables set in neat rows down the center of the room. Recessed blue lighting behind the bar provided ambience. Curtis looked over the crowd. As far as he could see, there was no one to worry about. No Johnny Tong, Derek Ryder, or any of the usual monsters of thiefdom that worked for Barry. Ricky’s was too expensive and clean cut for them. Curtis nodded at Tesla and said, “Really?” in response to a snatch of dialogue about Anna applying to grad school. Tesla plowed on, explaining the intricacies of LSAT’s, GMAT’s and other things that Curtis knew had something to do with college, but didn’t understand. He scanned the bar. There was Mona, only six stools away. She’d been there the whole time, out of sight behind Tesla. It was time to find out where Sonny and Fitz were hiding Big Blue.

  He grabbed Tesla’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Tesla, but I have to go. Someone’s waiting for me. Say hi to Anna for me the next time you see her.”