“How would we do it?” Louise asked.
Nick didn’t have an answer for that question, and after a few minutes of disturbing silence, nobody else did either. He sighed, relieved. He really didn’t want anybody to already have a murder plan. He didn’t doubt for a second that they could come up with some creative ways to kill and dispose of the hostages, but none of them were about to seriously consider the possibility. They were writers, not killers.
When Nick moved on to the next option, Stephen’s face returned to a somewhat normal color. It was clear he’d been on the verge of puking again, and everybody was relieved when it didn’t happen.
“Right, so we won’t kill them,” Nick said. “And, no offense, guys, but I highly doubt we’re capable of taking care of two grown men for the rest of our lives without anybody catching us, so that option is out, too. Which leaves us with just letting them go.”
“Should we ask for a ransom first?” Louise asked, and Stephen shook his head, disgusted. “What? How the fuck else are we ever gonna make bank if we don’t cash in on a couple of opportune hostages, right?”
“You’re crazy,” Stephen said. “I can’t do this anymore with you.”
“Whatever, dude.”
Nick cleared his throat. He didn’t have time for their petty shit. “A ransom would draw more attention from the police, don’t you think? We don’t really want that. The less attention, the better.”
“Is that true, though?” She leaned forward, excited again. “Think about it, guys. We could be fuckin’ famous. Screw this being poor, hustling bullshit. No more panhandling online for people to buy our books. We could be famous. Go on the run, rob some places, kidnap more people. We’d be motherfuckin’ legends.”
Stephen pushed back from the kitchen table and stood up. “Fuck this.”
“Sit down, man,” Nick said, irritated. He looked at Louise. “Maybe you’re game for the life on the run fate, but not all of us are quite ready.”
Eliza nodded. “Sorry, Louise. But I’d rather continue staying home all day in my pajamas, watching Netflix.”
Louise rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. But just so you all know?” She pointed at Stephen. “This motherfucker and I held up a gas station before any of this kidnapping shit started. If we were alone, he’d totally be into this.”
“I would not. This isn’t who I am. And this isn’t who you are.”
“Whatever.” She lit a cigarette and nodded at Nick. “Continue, I guess.”
Nick waited for Stephen to sit back down, then he went on. “So, what we have to ask ourselves is this: if we let these people go, apologize, tell them Billy was high and didn’t know what he was doing, do we think they will be cool? Or will they run straight to the police?”
“Considering we’ve beaten them up a little, tied them up, and locked them in the closet, I’m thinking they won’t be so chill about the whole situation,” Eliza said.
“Maybe we should just ask them,” Stephen said.
Louise snorted. “Yeah, like they won’t say whatever we want to hear to get us to let them go. What’s to stop them from running to the pig-pen once they’re out the door?”
Stephen settled back in his chair, pale again. “Yeah, I guess we can’t really take them on their word.”
“Especially Harlan,” Nick said. “I don’t know about the other guy. I haven’t talked to him, but you guys have. How is he?”
“I think he said his name was Lewis. He’s all right,” Eliza said. “If we let him go, he’d probably just get in his car and drive home, grateful we didn’t kill him or whatever.”
“Do you guys not watch any Law and Order?” Louise asked, looking at them like they were all pitiful losers. “Billy stole that guy’s car in front of a public, crowded area. Places with cameras. Don’t you think the police have already recovered the license plate of the car and have obtained this dude’s identity? He goes home, they’re gonna be waiting for him, with lots and lots of questions. And he isn’t just gonna stay quiet. Not for nothin’.”
“What are you suggesting?” Nick asked.
“I was right,” Stephen said, trying to smile and failing. “We have to bribe them.”
Eliza nodded. “It makes sense to me. Give them something for their troubles, make all this fucked-up shit worth it.”
“None of us have any money, though,” Louise said. “I feel like we’ve been through this. I’m telling you guys, they would make sweet Halloween decorations.”
Eliza looked up at Nick, standing by his whiteboard. “What do we have in the publishing account?”
Embarrassed, he shrugged. “I don’t know, not much, if anything at all. I just paid royalties last week, so the account is pretty much wiped out.”
“Anything in the Paypal?”
“Maybe like twenty bucks, I don’t know. I’d have to check.”
“Twenty dollars isn’t going to mean shit to these two,” Louise said. “It’d be like pissing in their faces. Oh, hey, we could always piss in their faces.”
Eliza made a screwed-up face. “Why are you always trying to piss on people?”
Louise shrugged. “Some people like it.”
“Who would possibly like that?”
“Well—”
Stephen pounded his fist on the kitchen table. “Louise, shut up.”
Louise started laughing. Eliza looked at Stephen, then quickly turned away.
“All right.” Nick rubbed his eyes, already exhausted. Nobody plans on waking up to a hostage negotiation. “So, let’s say we try to bribe them for their silence. How much do you think it’s going to take?”
They all shrugged. Nick tossed his whiteboard marker in the sink and ran his hands through his hair.
“Fuck. Why is this so hard?”
“Why don’t we just ask them?” Stephen said.
“What?”
“Let’s just open the closet and ask them what it’ll take.”
“What if they say they don’t want anything?” Nick said.
“Then we’ll know they’re lying,” Louise said.
22. BIG BANG THEORY T-SHIRT-WEARING MOTHERFUCKER
Harlan spent the majority of his time in the closet trying to decide if the staff of BILF Publishing was capable of murder. He knew that’s what they were all talking about in the other room, but even when he pressed his head against the closet door, he still couldn’t make out what they were saying.
He settled back into the darkness against Lewis, who hadn’t moved since being shoved in here. Harlan wondered if he was even awake—or, for that matter, alive.
And if he was alive, Harlan didn’t suspect Lewis would be of much help. The man had pretty much fed Harlan to the sharks before they’d been tied up. He couldn’t trust the man. It was up to Harlan and Harlan only to escape.
He could barely hear the publishing company talking in the other room, but he got the feeling they were debating ways to dispose of his body. How fucking ridiculous. All he’d done was write some negative reviews. He did not deserve this. Writers weren’t supposed to respond to criticism. They were supposed to read it, cry a little, and move on. But kidnapping? Totally unprofessional. What a bunch of fucking crybabies.
If someone had asked him yesterday whether he thought the brilliant minds behind BILF Publishing were crazy enough to murder another human being over a review, Harlan would have laughed. Now, though, he wasn’t sure. These nutjobs obviously had no idea what they were doing. The tweaker had acted in the spur of the moment. None of this was planned.
This kidnapping had been dumped on everybody else’s lap. They hadn’t anticipated any of this shit when they woke up today, yet here he was, tied up in a closet. They had to be freaking out right now. He knew what they were thinking: the easiest solution right now would be to kill the hostages, dump the bodies, and pray nobody traced the crime back to them. That’s what he would be thinking, at least, if the tables were turned. There was no way in hell Harlan would let his hostages go.
When you are afrai
d, you are easily convinced. And these assholes were terrified. If one person suggested turning the hostages into corpses, it wouldn’t take much for the rest to agree.
Harlan wondered if anybody was even looking for him. The coffee shop fight had plenty of witnesses, people standing around watching and taking photos and being generally unhelpful. But he didn’t know any of those people, and they didn’t know him. The police were trying to find a friendless man. A man without any real family, a man who lived alone and spent his free time reading shitty eBooks and warning others not to waste their money.
Maybe next week, when he didn’t turn up for work, somebody would show some concern. Concern not for his health, of course, but for who was going to cover his shift.
But what about his closet-buddy, Lewis? Harlan didn’t know much about him, despite being locked in various prisons together for the majority of the day. He probably had some sort of family. They’d be worried sooner than Harlan’s boss. Hell, they probably already called the cops. Plus, there had to be security cameras somewhere in the shopping center close to the coffee shop. He wondered if footage had captured Lewis’s license plates. Maybe the police were tracking down his stolen car. Would they think to look . . . wherever they were? Some apartment building, that was obvious, but beyond that, Harlan didn’t know. When he was pulled out of the trunk, he tried to give the area a look-around, but he didn’t recognize any of it. Just buildings and cars, the same as any other shit-for-nothin’ town. Maybe someone at the coffee shop had recognized the tweaker who’d nabbed them. Maybe a rescue was only a few minutes away. Or maybe these assholes would scare themselves into killing him, and that would be it—he’d be dead, over a bunch of stupid fucking reviews.
It would be a fitting conclusion to an admittedly pathetic life.
His kidnappers’ voices grew closer, and he realized they were approaching the closet just before the door opened and he came tumbling out, landing on the living room carpet. Lewis landed on top of him, knocking the wind out of him a second time. If his mouth wasn’t duct taped, he would have shouted, “Fuck!” Instead, he shouted, “Ffuufff!”
A man he hadn’t seen before but immediately recognized as Nick Twig turned both of them over and pulled the tape off their mouths. He stayed there a moment, crouched over them, staring into Harlan’s eyes.
“Harlan,” he said.
“Nick,” Harlan said.
“It’s about time we finally met.”
Harlan nodded. “It’s been a long time coming.”
Nick looked to the other male—Stephen?—and gestured at the ground. “Help me get these two up to the couch.”
“Why me?” Stephen asked.
“Because I asked you to. Come on.”
Hesitant, Stephen picked up Lewis by his shoulders and dragged him to the couch, plopping him down into a sitting position on the cushion. Nick grabbed Harlan and did the same, then sat down on a fold-up chair in front of them, switching his gaze from Harlan to Lewis, Lewis to Harlan.
“So, how are you doing?” Nick asked.
Harlan laughed.
“Pretty thirsty,” Lewis said. “I’d love a Pepsi.”
Nick looked at him, like he forgot he was even here. “Would water be all right?”
“Is it bottled?”
“Nah.”
Lewis scoffed. “Never mind.”
Nick laughed. “Sorry, man. Not exactly rich. Sometimes you have to weigh your options: do you want to spend your last couple bucks on Pepsi, or beer? Well, we usually choose beer.”
“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”
“We don’t have any beer.”
Lewis fell quiet.
Harlan glanced around the living room at the other psychos who’d kidnapped them. They all seemed nervous and refused to look him directly in the eyes, like they were dogs embarrassed of their own shit. He looked back at Nick, the only one who seemed to have enough courage to face the situation.
“So,” Harlan said, “how are you going to kill us?”
The man behind them, Stephen, squealed. Nick didn’t seem fazed, though. He just slowly shook his head and said, “Probably in some inadequate way you’ll find disappointing, I’m sure.”
“Passive-aggressive, much?”
“An asshole, much?” Nick asked.
Harlan nodded. “You’ve read my blog. Do you really have to ask that question?”
Nick smirked. “I’ve also read your novel.”
“You fuck.”
One of the girls—Harlan couldn’t remember who was who—stepped forward. “Uh, Nick? Maybe this isn’t the best time to start an argument.”
Nick just stared at him, fuming. If Harlan wasn’t tied up, he might’ve punched him. It was a punch that’d been due for a long time now.
The girl wedged herself between them and kneeled down until she was eye-level with Harlan. “Hi, my name’s Eliza.”
“The formatter.”
She tried to smile. “Yeah, that’s right, the formatter.”
Harlan never expected someone involved in BILF Publishing to be so attractive. He lost his voice for a moment. He’d talked to her earlier, but he’d been too full of rage to really give a shit about anything besides yelling at everybody. “Well, congratulations, the formatting is about the only decent praise I can give for your guys’ books. Although that isn’t really saying much.”
He could hear Nick cursing under his breath behind her, and it made him laugh.
Eliza ignored the comment. “Listen, you realize we didn’t intend for any of this to happen, right? My brother, the one who attacked you? He has a drug problem. I’m really sorry for all this. He didn’t mean you any harm. When this happened, he wasn’t in a right state of mind.”
“Your brother should be put down.”
“Maybe he should,” Eliza said. “But right now, we need to discuss what’s going to happen between us, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious what you’re going to do,” Harlan said, sighing and leaning back on the couch. “You’re going to kill us.”
Behind them, the other woman—Louise?—shouted, “Gonna turn your asses into Halloween decorations!”
Harlan didn’t know what that meant and he didn’t want to find out.
Lewis snorted. Eliza looked at Nick, unsure, then back at Harlan. “Why would you think that?”
“Quit bullshitting us. The only way out of this is by dumping our bodies in a lake, or something. You know it just as well as I do.”
“What if we just let you go?” she asked.
“I would be okay with that,” Lewis said. “I vote for this plan.”
Harlan shook his head. Surely they’d already thought this out. “If you let us go, what’s stopping us from going to the police?”
Eliza shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose. But maybe we can cheer you up a bit before letting you go, then, hmm, I don’t know, you might not even care that we ruined your day.”
Harlan leaned forward, intrigued. “And how exactly are you going to cheer me up?”
“I would be plenty content with just being let go,” Lewis said. “Seriously.”
“No you wouldn’t,” Harlan said. “Shut up.”
“We were thinking some type of monetary compensation for your troubles,” Eliza said.
Harlan laughed. “If you guys had cash, then your marketing strategy wouldn’t boil down to begging people to buy your books on Facebook.”
“You piece of shit, Big Bang Theory T-shirt-wearing motherfucker,” Nick said, pushing Eliza out of the way. “Louise was right. Let’s just kill them.”
He tried to grab Harlan, but Eliza pulled him away before he could successfully wrap his hands around his throat.
“Okay, look,” Eliza said. “Enough with this being-an-asshole shit, from the both of you. I’m trying to solve this issue, and neither of you seem like you want it solved.”
“Sorry,” Nick said.
“Sorry,” Harlan said.
“So, Harlan, ho
w much is it going to take to make up for what we’ve done to you today?” She looked at Lewis. “You, too.”
Lewis shrugged. “I don’t know, you guys don’t have to pay us anything.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Hmm. Twenty-five bucks? Forty? I guess I would definitely appreciate it if you can fill up my gas tank, since y’all have been driving my car around all day.”
“Okay, sure, no problem. Harlan?”
“Fifty-five million dollars.”
“Come on.”
“Okay. Seventy million.”
Eliza sighed. “Please be realistic, here.”
Harlan didn’t see the point in trying to be realistic. They had failed to think this plan through. Even if they paid him off, there was still nothing stopping him from going directly to the police. They’d read his blog, so they should have already realized how much he didn’t give a shit about being a dickhead. It was in his genes.
But hey, if they wanted to pay him off before they all went to prison, then okay, sure, he’d let them. He wouldn’t turn down money, although he seriously doubted its existence in this apartment. But maybe they had some tricks up their sleeves. Maybe one of them had a rich grandmother.
“Okay,” Harlan said. “Three thousand.”
“Shit,” the guy named Stephen said behind them. Louise laughed and whispered something about Halloween decorations again.
Eliza held in her breath before answering. “Okay, three thousand. That’s fair. Don’t you think so, Nick?”
Nick didn’t say anything, just walked out of the living room, into the kitchen. Glass shattered. How precious. A temper tantrum.
“No,” Harlan said. “It’s not fair at all. In fact, the price should be much higher. But I’m being realistic here. I doubt you can even pay me three thousand, plus enough to fill up Lewis’s gas tank? Good luck with that.”
“We’ll do it,” Eliza said. Then, after a moment of hesitation: “And if not, I guess you’re right, we could always just kill you.”
Then Nick came back into the living room with more duct tape, and seconds later Harlan and Lewis were back in the closet, drowning in their own disgusting odors.
23. SEXY CATS
How to Successfully Kidnap Strangers Page 7
