by Alexa Reign
“What kind of favors?”
“Started out small.” Shaking his head, he rubbed under his nose, smearing blood all across his upper lip. Even in the dark, I could make out the genuine shame on his face. “He made me slash some tires of some poor fuck that rubbed him the wrong way; call up a couple of homies to rough up a dude, that type of shit. Stopped fucking with him when I met Grace.”
“This ain't A&E, man – cut to the chase.”
“A'ight, a'ight – look, I wasn't lying when I told you I been looking real hard for a job, man. Believe me, I tried – the grind just ain't paying off. Shit was worse when I got out – my mom got real sick, and she had all these bills I had to pay off, and I didn't have a fucking cent to my name. Look, I had no choice, man.”
He looked up at me, his narrowed eyes glistening and pleading with remorse.
“Xavier never got over Brooklyn. He offered me 2 mill to fuck up the brakes of your car. But I – I couldn't do it alone – offered to split it with Buster. He –”
“You – you what?”
I wanted to fucking scream until my throat grew tender and bled, until my lungs caved in on itself. I wanted to pounce on him and knock out every single one of his teeth until they lodged in his throat, choking him. I wanted to fucking rip the skin off his face, wanted to make him feel pain he'd never felt before – my pain.
Somehow, the storm of all those emotions canceled each other out. My body went weak. I started to topple forward, but I kicked out a leg and planted it firmly on the ground, forcing myself upright.
“I'm sorry, man. I – I really am,” he uttered softly, his voice shaking with his shoulders. “He ain't never got over Brooklyn – it really fucked with him when he heard that you and Brooklyn got married. But you – you made it out that crash alive. It wasn't good enough for Xavier, and he went back on his word. He only gave us about 5% of the money, withheld the rest until we could finish the job.”
My teeth started chattering, but I could feel the sweat coursing down my back.
“Then Grace got knocked up... Bro, you gotta understand, I got desperate. I had nothing else to fall back on – we still paying off my mom's medical bills and she passed 2 years ago. Xavier hit me up again, and I decided to take him up on his offer.”
“You wrote those letters.” My mind was buzzing with so many questions, I couldn't make sense of any of them. All I could ask was, “How?”
“I broke into your place and found some of Brooklyn's diaries. It's how I knew to get you out to Rockaway. But that wasn't enough for Xavier. He wanted me to get close to you, really pick your brain. He gave me some money to hire a couple of dudes – that homeless man and those kids outside The Whistling Ox.”
With what little strength he had left in him, he grabbed onto the wall behind him and pulled himself up.
“But bro, you gotta understand – I actually got to know you, and shit, that night when you came over, Grace was fucking beside herself, man. She knows you're a good guy, and you don't deserve any of this – we couldn't go through it. Told Buster to come over last night, told him this shit was off. I didn't know how to tell you, bro. I swear, I ain't trying to do you wrong no more. We could take this to the cops, anything...”
Terrence was still going on, but nothing else he was saying was registering. Maybe it was the decline of the caffeine rush, but man, I was tired. Just tired. It wasn't only until I started feeling light-headed that I realized I'd forgotten to breathe.
Brooklyn wasn't coming – not now, not ever.
“– are you a'ight, man? I – hold up.” He took out his ringing phone, wincing again as he raised it to his ear. “Not now – yo, what? Grace, slow down – what?”
“What is it?”
“Yo, I'll talk to you later.” He hung up, slapping a hand on his forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm sorry, man, I knew I shouldn't have told Buster about Victoria – shit, this ain't good at all –”
“Yo, slow the fuck down. What are you trying to tell me, man?”
He lowered his phone, swallowing hard.
“I'm telling you we need to find Victoria. Now.”
Chapter Eight: Victoria
“Hold the door, please!”
I teetered up the front steps of Alcott Heights, my arms laden with 3 brimming grocery bags. Mr. Dudley, the friendly archaeologist who lived in Apartment 8-D, halted at the door. As soon as he saw me, his crooked-toothed smile brightened his face.
“There you go, sweetie.” He pulled the door farther back, stepping aside. “Can I help you with that?”
“Oh, no, I've got it – but thanks!” I glanced at the cartoon turkeys printed on his tie. The crude birds flaunted their feathery tushies, looking back at me with a lustful look in their eyes. “Love the tie, by the way.”
“Thank you, Victoria! My son got it for me as a gag gift last Christmas, but the joke's on him. I love it!” Mr. Dudley winked, beaming down at his tie fondly. “Alright, I better skedaddle – Delia made pork chops for dinner. I'll see you around, Victoria.”
“Have a good night, Mr. Dudley.”
Still balancing the groceries in my arms, I peeked into the slot of our mailbox to check for any new mail.
“Good evening, Ms. Vaughan. Ms. Cailie DiCarlo has already arrived. She said she would let herself in.”
“Great – thanks!” I grinned at the doorman and started towards the elevators. “And what about Rosaline? Has she left yet?”
“Yes, she left earlier this afternoon.”
“Do you need any help with your bags, Ms. Vaughan?”
“I'm alright, thank you. Have a good one, Mr. Lar –”
“Victoria!”
I jumped back in surprise, the groceries nearly slipping out of my arms.
“Holy crap, Ace, don't come running up on me like that –”
My heart leaped to my throat. Ace stood in front of me, looking like he was fresh out of the ring. His hair was tousled, the collar of his shirt ripped, and dirt was smudged on his nose and cheeks. Next to him stood a guy that appeared to have suffered the brunt of the tussle. The guy's hood could do nothing to conceal the horrifying sight of his badly battered face. The cheek around his bloodied right eye had ballooned to twice its size, and the dried blood covering his nose and jaw had turned brown.
“What – what the fuck, Ace? Who is this? What's going on –”
“This is No–Terrence –” Ace gripped the sides of my shoulders, his rounded eyes flashing. “Listen, there's no time to explain, but Buster is on his way over here, and he's dangerous, wildly unstable –”
“Wait, what? What are you – who the hell is Buster? And what does he want –”
“Fucking listen to me, Victoria!” Ace shook me hard, his face so close I could smell the trace of coffee on his breath. Hearing the despair in his tremulous voice, I shut right up. “We have to get you out of here, now. He knows where you live and he may already be in the building –”
“What?” My knees knocked against each other. Good thing Ace was holding me up. “Oh my god. Cailie. Cailie – she's in my apartment. We have to get –”
“C'mon.”
Terrence, or whatever his name was, took 2 bags of my groceries from me. I couldn't even remember if I thanked him. Ace and I sprinted towards the elevators as Terrence fought to catch up. We boarded the elevator, with Ace up front, smashing the “Close Door” button. Ice-cold fear and this sense of aggressive urgency took over me. The only thing that kept me going were the jolts of adrenaline pumping through my body.
The instant the doors opened, Ace and I squeezed out of the elevator at the same time.
“Where are your keys?”
“He – ”I hustled down the hallway after him, reaching into my purse with a damp and unsteady hand. “Here!”
Ace caught my keys in midair and swung around, jamming it into the keyhole. In his state of panic, he wrestled with the door, cussing angrily under his breath. And finally, he got it open.
But it was too la
te.
All 3 of us froze in the doorway, each face chalkier than the next. My whole body slackened, the only bag of groceries I was holding falling right out of my grasp. 4 juicy red tomatoes rolled out of the bag, dispersing across the room. The puddle from the exploded milk carton trickled across the marble floor, soaking into my sneakers.
“Vic–Victoria. Help me.”
Sitting 10 feet away from me was Cailie with the gleaming, silver barrel of a gun pressed up to the back of her head.
PART 4
Chapter One: Victoria
This couldn't be happening.
I wasn't even sure how I was still standing. My body had been completely immobilized by landlocked vertigo. Everything around the corners of my eyes had gone fuzzy. I could taste the faint sourness of my vomit climbing up the back of my throat, which almost felt rubbed raw from the seemingly ceaseless screaming in my head.
“Buster – Buster, yo, what the fuck are you doing?”
I could feel Terrence's warm, coarse breaths on the nape of my neck, but his voice sounded like it was coming from 500 feet away.
“Vic-Victoria. What's – what's going on?”
Cailie's anguished sobs broke the spell of my stupefied daze. She sat with the back of her chair a hand's length away from her taut spine, shrinking away from the barrel of the gun. Confused tears doused her cheeks and ran through the recesses of the deep lines around her gaping mouth.
As I stared into Cailie's eyes, communicating my contrition and silently pleading with her to stay calm, Ace and Terrence appealed to the gunman desperately.
“Please – please, let her go –” I joined in scratchily.
“Y'all better shut the fuck up!”
The gunman kicked the torchère next to him, sending the gilded ornamental stand crashing to the floor. The porcelain candlesticks and the bashful face of the Venus statue on the base of the stand shattered upon impact. All 4 of us did as we were told at once.
“That's more like it.”
The gunman, or Buster, as they called him, was clearly on something. He was small and his complexion waxy, with trashy tattoos defacing his skeletal arms and baggy jeans hanging off his bony hips. The sides of his eyes were browned and sunken in. His glassy red eyes were wide open, and he seemed to be blinking a hundred times a minute.
“C'mon, Buster, let her go,” Terrence croaked, shutting the door carefully behind me. “This ain't part of the plan. She's just a kid –”
“No, you right. This ain't part of the plan 'cause you done fucked that up,” Buster growled, pressing the barrel harder against the back of Cailie's head. More tears gushed down Cailie's cheeks, her shoulders quietly heaving. “I been telling you it's a bad idea to tell Grace about any of this – that bitch always be sticking her nose where it don't belong –”
Buster paused, squinting at Terrence.
“The hell happened to you?”
“B, just let her go. You're really scaring her, man –”
“Nah, I ain't scaring her.” Buster leaned forward and stuck his nose against Cailie's scalp, breathing in deeply. Cailie jerked away from him, her face shriveling with disgust. “We had a nice lil' chat before y'all got here. She knows I ain't gonna hurt her if she's a good girl and does what I –”
“Back the fuck off!” I lunged forward, but Ace grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me back next to him.
“Fuck, he – he's tweakin' man,” I heard Terrence hissing to Ace behind me.
“Alright, brother, just calm down.” Ace took a slow step forward, his palms raised by his ears. “What do you want –”
“I'm finna get paid today,” Buster declared, talking so fast he was getting a little cockeyed. “And you best step the fuck back, 'cause I ain't playin' around –”
“Alright, man, I'm staying right here,” said Ace hastily, halting.
“C'mon, B, you ain't thinking this through, man,” Terrence panted, sounding both harrowed and on the verge of passing out. “You hurt this girl, and the cops gon' be on your ass in a minute – you ain't never gonna get yo money –”
“He's right, man,” said Ace, nodding at Buster gently. “It's me you want. Let her go, and take me –”
“Yeah, man, and screw Xavier,” Terrence squeezed in. “Ace here, he'll – he'll pay you double – dude's locked up, anyway, it'd take months before that money clears –”
“Yeah, I'll do that,” Ace agreed promptly. “I'll pay cash – whatever you want – just don't –”
My legs went weak at the metallic sound of the gun cock.
“Please, no –”
Still holding onto Cailie's shoulder, Buster raised his gun in the air and fired twice. The gun blasts echoed throughout the apartment, followed by the light tinkle of the bullet shells hitting the floor. My ears were ringing, but when I looked up at the fresh holes punctured in the ceiling, my heart thawed with instant relief.
“Everyone just shut the fuck up and let me think,” Buster snarled, pointing the smoking barrel back against Cailie's head. He glared at Ace and Terrence, motioning to the sofa. “You 2, sit.”
Ace and Terrence looked at each other, but quickly complied. Buster's demented gaze landed on me. He tilted his head, as if noticing me for the first time. A depraved grin spread on his peeling brown lips.
“You must be Victoria. Damn, son.” He grinned at Ace and waggled his tongue at me, scratching at the scabs on his face. “You. Get me something to drink.”
I stepped over the groceries and shook all the way to the kitchen, foraging the dishwasher for a glass.
“You look like you just got busted by yo reverend daddy for turning tricks on a school night,” Buster taunted, snickering viciously as his eyes darted between Ace and Terrence. “All talk and no action, man, that's what you are. I deserve the full 2 mill anyway – I been doing all the dirty work around here while you fucked around playing pen pals with this motherfucker. Wasn't even man enough to handle business 3 years ago – this pussy was a no-show. Shit, and I thought prison mighta knocked some sense into him, but I shoulda known better.”
I lowered the glass to my side and loosened my grip. The glass fell, splitting into a dozen pieces by my feet. All 4 glanced at me.
“S-sorry.”
When Buster's attention shifted away from me, I dropped to the floor. Cailie's head was still facing straight ahead, but she peeked at me from the corner of her eye. As I pretended to sweep the broken glass aside, I snuck the sharpest piece I could find and pocketed the shard.
I sprang to my feet and reached for another glass.
“Soda okay?”
“What?” Buster barked at me, blinking. “Yeah, whatever.”
I opened a can of soda and poured it into the glass. As I waited for the foam to settle, my heart pounded in my chest. I didn't know what I was doing, but I had to do something. I picked up the drink and walked over to him, the soda sloshing in the glass.
“Yo, B, just chill out,” Terrence begged him. His bloated slits for eyes were fixed on Buster's finger around the trigger. “You ain't yourself, man – just put that shit down and we'll talk this out –”
“Nah, man, but keep up with that jabberin' and my finger just might slip. I'm through with your bullshit. We used to dream big. We was always talking about opening up one of 'em casinos –”
“We can still do all that, B – just – just not like this –”
As I walked up behind Buster, my eyes watered at the fishy funk of his hoodie. I caught Ace's eye from behind the gunman's back, pulling up the shard in my pocket and slipping it back inside. Ace lowered his eyes, acknowledging me with a faint nod.
“Here.” I stepped forward, offering him the glass. “Please – why don't I take her place. We'll stay, but just – just let her go –”
“Fuck no.” Buster snorted, shaking his head. “What, so she can run outta here and call the cops? I ain't stupid.”
In the same breath, he contradicted himself. He set his gun down on the console table and
snatched the soda from me, gulping down the drink greedily with both hands on the glass. There wasn't a second to spare.
I withdrew the shard in my pocket and plunged it right between his neck and right shoulder. As the apartment resounded with Buster's howls, Cailie bounded forward and dove behind the sofa for cover. I swiped the gun on the table with both hands, stepping out of the way just in time. Ace and Terrence ran at Buster full-speed, tackling him to the ground.
I squeezed the icy grip of the gun, the weapon much heavier than I'd expected. Drunk with adrenaline and raging fury, I knelt down next to the struggling 3 and jammed the gun into Buster's mouth. He stopped squirming immediately. For the first time, I could see a human flash of fear in his eyes. They swiveled to the barrel poking out from inside of his cheek.
“Whoa, no – don't –”
“Easy, Victoria.”
The top of Cailie's head popped out from behind the sofa.
“Victoria, don't!”
Their panicky protests were cut off by the violent banging on the front door.
“NYPD!”
Before any of us could react, 6 cops burst into the apartment and surrounded us, their weapons aimed straight at me.
“Put your gun on the floor, now!”
“Yo, don't shoot – she's good, she's good –”
“Victoria. It's okay.” Ace gave me a soft squeeze on the shoulder, but his voice was level and impassive – almost disappointed. “It's over.”
It would take another brusque warning from the cops to snap me out of it. Slowly, I lifted my finger from the trigger, easing the barrel out of Buster's mouth and setting it down next to me. And as the cops swarmed towards us, I raised my hands in surrender, my fingers numb to the tip.
Chapter Two: Ace
“Staring at the bottom of your glass,
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last,
