Fixed Parts

by J. A. Wynters

  I felt like those curtains.

  “Sit down,” Salvatore pulled out a chair, and she fell into it. Her eyes darted from me to Salvatore, like a frightened deer. She wiped her tears away and adjusted in her seat.

  Salvatore loomed over her, his eyes piercing, “I'm going to go call your husband and you’re gonna sit here nicely while my friend looks after you. If you move, he will hurt you. If you scream, he will hurt you. If you do anything that you're not supposed to do, we will hurt you. Do you understand?”

  Her yes was a whisper as new tears rolled down her face. Salvatore turned away and disappeared into another room. It was just me and her. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe normally, tears continued to roll down her cheeks despite her constant wiping. Her face was a mask of despair, and her fear bounced off the walls and into my curdling stomach.

  Despite the initial thrill, the reality of what we were doing began to set in. I wasn't ready. I wasn’t ready to hurt people, to break them, to propel them into the darkness. Funny, you never consider your soul being a casualty until you burn pieces of it away with your actions.

  “You’re not going to get away with this.” Her eyes blazed as she found a reserve of courage. I didn't answer her, I just stood waiting.

  Salvatore came back into the room, and he pulled out the chair right next to Mrs. Crabb. He gave her another charming smile, which I am sure under different circumstances would have had an entirely different effect on her, “Your husband is on his way home; this will all be over soon.” She flinched as he patted her exposed thigh. Salvatore snickered. This was a side of Salvatore I always knew existed but had never seen. It scared me more than I cared to admit. Back then I would have never been able to go against him. “What's your name sweetheart?”

  “Don't call me sweetheart,” she grumbled, then paled as his fingers clutched her thigh and squeezed, “What's your name?”

  “Elise.” She bit her lower lip as Salvatore released her and leaned back into his chair.

  “Okay Elise, we are just gonna sit here, nice and calm, and wait for your husband.”

  She nodded.

  We waited.

  The room felt oppressive, the dimmed space feeling hot under the artificial lights.

  The arrival of the honourable George Crabb was marked by his screeching tyres and slamming car doors.

  His keys jingled in the front door and panicked voice echoed through the house, “Elise, Elise!”

  “We’re in the dining room.” Her voice quivered.

  The judge’s face poked from behind the wall, his eyes bulged in his red face, his body tense and rigid. His eyes flashed between the three of us, finally landing back on Elise, “Are you okay?”

  Relief washed her face and fresh tears fell from her eyes, “I'm fine.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  She shook her head, sniffing around her quiet sobs.

  “Now that we have made sure everyone is fine, why not join us Mr. Crabb?” Salvatore started, his body lax against the seat.

  “It's Your Honour.”

  “Yes, my mistake. Your Honour,” Salvatore smirked, “Why don't you sit down?” He gestured to the free seat. Like his wife, the judge took a couple of uncertain steps and sat down. The four of us sat in a cold silence. It all felt oddly civilised.

  The judge regained some of his composure. He gave me a humourless smile. The flash of disdain in his eyes did not go unnoticed, “Well gentlemen, would you care to tell me who you are and what can I do for you?”

  “Well, Mr Crabb,” I started.

  “Your Honour!” He cut me off, his rebuke dripping irritation.

  “Excuse me, Your Honour. You have something that I want, and I believe I have something that you want. I'm here to propose a trade.”

  “You can’t possibly have anything that I want. You’re a kid, a nothing, a no one,” The judge sneered, not trying to conceal his contempt. He searched my face, his eyes studied mine, taking note of every detail until his mouth shrank back and any signs of mirth disappeared, “You are that runt Tony had living in his garage.”

  I sat unmoved by his attempt at mockery. See, I already felt the air change and fear creep into the room as Tony’s name was mentioned. Until I made my own, I would benefit from his big, dead shadow.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want 72 Hill Street.”

  His eyes became slits, “That piece of shit concrete slab in the industrial area? Why?”

  “That’s none of you concern.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, thinking I’ll give you anything at all?” His voice rose and a red tint decorated his features.

  “Because,” I took a step forward, “Tony left me an inheritance.”

  At my words the colour drained from his face, his anger dissolved into fear. He fell back into his chair, his hands clutching the steel arms.

  “Indeed,” he cleared his throat finding his voice, “What will we be trading?”

  “I will return your intellectual property over to you.”

  The Judge nodded, hesitant, “All of it?”

  I tipped my head, wondering how many offences Tony gathered on tape, “I will give you everything. You’ll be free.”

  “George?” Elise flayed him with an incredulous look, “What are they talking about? What intellectual property? What is this really about?”

  “It's alright Elise, just do what they ask and let me deal with these men.” He brushed her off.

  “It doesn't sound like nothing George. What are you involved with?”

  “Just shut up woman!” He hissed at her and she jerked back into her seat.

  At that, Salvatore’s mouth curled.

  “That’s no way to speak to a lady,” He eyed the judge, who ignored the comment.

  Judge Crabb thought for a long moment his courage returning, “No deal.”

  “No problem,” I gave him my most charming smile, while Salvatore stood up and pulled out a Glock 45 from his belt, the silencer screwed on, glinting in the light. With a steady, practiced hand, he pointed it at Elise. She cowered at the sight of it, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. The judge recoiled into his seat, his nostrils flaring.

  Salvatore pushed the steel into her temple. She whimpered. He traced his hand along her neck, her lip quivered and she began to sob. Salvatore’s hand trailed the length of her neck, reaching the fabric of her buttoned-up blouse and with a forceful yank he tore at the material. The shirt fell open and wilted away from her chest, revealing a black, lace bra. Elise uttered a muffled scream that stuck in her throat. Judge Crabb grabbed the table, his body vaulting from the chair. In a swift movement Salvatore swung the gun over to his direction. The cock of the hammer returned an uneasy silence to the room.

  “You don't have to trust me, Mr. Crabb. But you should believe me when I tell you that before Salvatore here kills your wife, he's gonna fuck her real hard and real good, and you’re going to watch as she screams your name and cries. And then, we're going to wait for your daughter to come home…what's her name again? Leora?”

  Elise’s sobs grew, her body shook, “Not Leora.” She was begging. Salvatore placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She squirmed under his touch but closed her mouth.

  Judge Crabb clutched the table, his knuckles white, his face red.

  In all honesty, I felt like shit. The words stung my mouth as I said them, but I needed that fucking property, and he needed to give it to me.

  At any cost.

  I continued.

  “After that, we might just show them all your videos,” Elise flashed a look over to the judge, “By tomorrow morning the media will be feasting on the carcass of what used to be your career.”

  Crabb’s eyes bore into me, his body trembled. I wasn't entirely sure if it was fear or rage. Probably a combination of both.

  Elise kept asking what we were talking about, George shut her up with a look. He sat back wiping the back of his hand against his forehead, “Alr
ight. Alright, stop. Sit back down and we can talk about this.”

  “There's nothing more to talk about. You need to draw up papers and sign the property to my shell company. I want it done by the end of the day.” My heart hammered and a surge of power flooded my veins. I have to admit I loved the rush, watching him cower, argue, break down bit by bit. It was exhilarating, fascinating, addictive.

  “It doesn't work like that, it takes time…”

  “You don’t have any.” I held his gaze.

  He clenched his jaw, his face tormented, twisting to anger, hopelessness and finally resignation, “Fine.”

  “Excellent. I knew you were a reasonable man. Be back here at five o’clock. Have the papers drawn up by then.”

  “You fucking asshole,” He hissed through gritted teeth.

  “I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t stupid enough to trust Tony.”

  “You’re worse than Tony. That fat bastard promised me there was going to be no evidence.”

  I scoffed, “Tony promised a lot of people a lot of things.” The Judge nodded bitterly. “Now let me make you a promise. If you call anyone and discuss our meeting, our deal is off. If the paper work isn’t done by five o’clock, the deal is off. If you try and fuck me in anyway, your family will suffer in ways you can't begin to imagine.”

  “Stay away from my family. I’ll have everything ready by tonight, bring the tapes.”

  “You best be alone.”

  “I’m a reasonable man.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’ll do what you asked, just leave my family alone.” I held his gaze across the dining room table.

  “Alright. Let me walk you to your car. You’ll have a very busy day at the office.” The judge stood up, his legs unbalanced. I wrapped my hand around his shoulders and he flinched at the touch. I lead him toward the hallway, “Salvatore here will keep Elise company until five o'clock. Everything best be in order. See you later, Your Honour.” His eyes burned with hatred as we stepped out of the room.

  He shook away from me, then hurried to the front door. The engine of his car came to life, followed by screaming wheels, which faded as he drove away.

  I returned to the dining room where Salvatore sat, gun in hand, facing Elise.

  “Can we trust him?”

  His eyes flicked to Elise and he nodded.

  “I need to get back to work…”

  “As we discussed,” Salvatore cut me off.

  I took one last look at Elise, and tried to reassure her that it would all be okay as long as her husband followed the instructions.

  Elise nodded and whimpered, her sobs filling the room. She straightened her back and pulled her shirt closed. Her perfect hair had come apart, flyways stuck to her sweaty scalp. Her cheeks were stained in black mascara. The perfectly manicured woman who had opened the door had withered away in less than an hour.

  “See you tonight.” Salvatore cocked his head in response, his eyes glued to the broken woman before him.

  I stepped outside and didn't look back. I was barely holding myself together, my body was on fire, tingling. A mixture of excitement and fear surged through me. My stomach suddenly gripped my body in a tight squeeze, and all I wanted to do was vomit, and fly, and be someone else, be somewhere else, and pretend none of this was happening.

  I was sick with anticipation for the rest of the day. I snapped and shouted and threatened over the simplest mistakes. Over nothing. My angst grew with every ticking second. The clock like a pendulum inside my mind, ticking away the time, burning away the fuse.

  Tick, tock.

  By four o’clock, I was all but unravelling. My stomach jumped and tossed like a ship on a stormy sea. I drowned the feeling in the shower.

  At four thirty, Romeo arrived. Salvatore and Romeo had history, that’s all I knew. I also knew he looked similar enough to me, similar enough he could have almost been me. Almost.

  He knocked on the office door, wearing a cheap smile and a cheaper suit. His head was covered by a baseball hat that hung low over his face.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, “Salvatore told me to be here.”

  I nodded and stood from behind my chair, “Strip.”

  I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled off my pants. Romeo did the same, handing over his clothes. Despite our similarities, the shirt pulled up along my wrists and the pants felt too short, and too tight against my waist. I grimaced, smelling his pharmacy discount cologne as the fabric made my skin itch.

  “Did Salvatore walk you through procedures?”

  Romeo nodded and clapped a hand on my shoulder, “I’ve got this covered kid, now go take care of business.”

  It was somewhere between mockery and motivation. No one took me seriously. Not yet.

  I stepped out of his touch and gave him a long, lingering look. He rounded my desk and sat down, ignoring me. The computer screen came to life and a minute later half naked women were on the screen. I left the office.

  I sucked in a steadying breath, hoping I looked as casual as Romeo had walking into my office ten minutes before. The baseball cap lay low across my face, and I hoped it hid my clenched jaw. I stuffed my hands into the pants pockets so they would hide the too-short shirt and my fidgeting fingers. I walked, fighting my body, reminding myself to stay calm, stay cool, keeping my strides measured, thoughtful. My entire body screamed as I casually walked away from the car wash and the men watching it.

  I slipped on my gloves and entered the judge’s house at one minute before five. My forehead was covered in nervous sweat and my stomach fought the urge to lurch. Exactly a minute after that, the judge walked into his house, carrying a suitcase and a heavy expression. His eyes narrowed as he saw me.

  “Good evening Your Honour.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  I smirked as I led him into the dining room.

  Salvatore sat on the same chair where I had left him earlier that morning. Elise was now dressed in a cream business suit. She sat silently. Her makeup reapplied, her face grey in the lights.

  “Elise—” The judge started, but I cut him off.

  “Let us conclude our business.” Judge Crabb shot me an icy look and lifted his briefcase, slamming it onto the table. The clang of metal on metal elicited a yelp from Elise, who shot her husband a look of indignation.

  He clicked the briefcase open and pulled out a number of papers and a black pen, which he clicked before turning his attention to me.

  “You will have to sign.”

  The signature wasn’t mine, it belonged to a Mr. Kevin Brown, the owner of a shell company in the Bahamas. Needless to say, I was Kevin Brown. But, anyone looking for me would be taken through an endless wormhole of false leads and never-ending paperwork. I now owned a dilapidated, broken-down building that housed Tony’s millions.

  I signed and initialled and collated the paperwork. The judge placed the documents in three separate envelopes, each already postmarked to various institutions that would make the transaction legal and swift. He handed me the bundle of papers, “I didn’t think you would trust my secretary to post them out in the morning.”

  I snatched the envelopes from him while Salvatore stood up. Swift and quite, he rounded the table till he stood directly behind Elise.

  “Now where are my tapes?”

  Even as he spoke, we both caught the flash of Salvatore’s gun as he plunged it against the back of Elise’s head and pulled the trigger. The bullet shot from her forehead, leaving behind a singed black mark and a trickle of blood.

  Everything happened very slowly and simultaneously very fast.

  At the flash of the gun, I lunged at the judge who leapt from his chair. I grabbed his shoulders and knocked him back into the chair, Salvatore already walking towards us, his gun pointed at judge Crabb’s face.

  “We had a deal,” He snivelled as Salvatore’s gloved hand placed the gun into Judge Crabb’s own. With an ironclad grip, he forced the Judge to twist his wrist, and stuffed the ba
rrel into his mouth. His protest was mute and pathetic as he gurgled on the gun. The muffled shot erupted and a splash of bloodied brain matter covered the back wall.

  Salvatore released his grip and allowed the hand to fall. The gun fell from it with a clang.

  “Let’s go.”

  Salvatore gripped me by the arm and pulled me to the door. Bile rose in the back of my throat. It burned vile and sour, and my body shook as it tried to expel the images, the smell of the acrid gunpowder and metallic blood. My body lurched and Salvatore propelled me forward.

  Away.

  Pushing.

  Pulling.

  Urging.

  He released me when we were two blocks away.

  I turned to face him, my heart hammering my chest, “You killed them, you fucking killed them.” I could feel the panic rise with the bile.

  “Shut your mouth.”

  “What did you do? That wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to…” my voice fell away.

  “To what?” He cut me off his face contorted, “Say it.”

  “Kill them.” It was a choked whisper as my stomach twisted.

  “They would have talked. It would’ve been all be over.”

  “But…”

  “No buts kid.” Salvatore pushed me against a wall with the full force of his body. His hand came up to my throat and it threatened to spill the contents of my stomach on him.

  “Now boy, swallow that fear down. Swallow the nerves and disgust. Swallow your anger and let it burn inside you,” He squeezed tighter and I forced a swallow, “If you want to survive, to lead, you keep all that shit buried deep, deep down. You learn, right now, tonight. No emotion, no regret. No turning back.”

  I swallowed again and pulled air into my lungs, shutting my eyes against the image that will forever be seared into my mind. Death was now part of me, and I had to accept him. I opened my eyes and locked eyes with Salvatore.

  “Get the fuck off me.” It was a strangled grated sound.

  “Make me.” He didn’t move. He didn’t squeeze or fight or push, he just stood there challenging me, ushering me over the threshold.