Money Shot

4.

“Look,” I said with whatever voice I could muster. “I don’t know anything about any money. That girl, she just came and left when those two guys showed up. That’s all I know.”

“Start at the beginning,” the boss said, lighting up a cigarette. “Tell me everything she told you.”

“She didn’t tell me anything,” I said.

“She must have said something,” the boss replied. “What did she want? Not work, obviously.”

Why was that obvious? I had thought she was looking for work when I first saw her. I had no idea how much this asshole knew about what had happened in my office. Was he really in the dark or just looking for me to confirm his suspicions?

“She wanted to get in touch with one of my models,” I told him. “Said they were friends as kids.”

“She wanted to catch up?” the boss asked. “Reminisce about old times?”

I shrugged or tried to. It came out kind of funny with my arms tied out to either side.

The boss nodded, contemplating the smoke from the end of his cigarette. Then he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag. When he exhaled, two words came out with the smoke.

“Which model?”

I closed my eyes. Zandora was hardly my best friend. She was a shallow bimbo with more designer sunglasses than sense, but she sure as hell didn’t deserve to have this guy after her. The last thing I wanted to do was to drag her or anyone else into this ugly mess. I told myself to hold out, hanging on to the idea that I was protecting Zandora. I needed to at least try and be tough, because I didn’t want to think of myself as the sort of person that rolled over after two punches.

“You’re thinking about being brave,” the boss said, taking another deep drag off his cigarette. “Don’t.”

“Angel, please,” Sam said, his eyes bright and desperate.

“Shut up,” the rhino said again and shot another curt hook at Sam’s temple.

I said nothing. I squinted up at the boss and put what I hoped was a tough expression on my face. He sighed like a disappointed teacher and handed his cigarette to Jesse.

Jesse cracked a huge grin and parked the cigarette in one corner of his mouth. Then he climbed up onto the bed, straddling my hips and putting his left hand around my throat. His hands were big. I felt his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft spots beneath my ears while the wide palm leaned down on my windpipe, cutting off my air. His face was inches from mine, pretty blue eyes gazing intently into mine like a romance novel hero as he took the cigarette from his lips with his other hand.

When I felt the heat of the cigarette moving closer to my cringing skin, all my tough-guy plans went right out the window.

“Zandora Dior,” I said, my voice an airless croak.

“I’m sorry,” the boss said, gesturing to Jesse to back off. “Could you repeat that?”

Jesse reluctantly let go of my neck but stayed on top of me. He was heavy. I could feel how much he was enjoying himself. I wanted to kill him.

“Zandora,” I said again, only a little more clearly this time. “Zandora Dior.”

“Ah,” the boss said. He plucked his cigarette from between Jesse’s fingers and took another drag. Jesse looked like he’d just had his favorite toy taken away.

“...but I didn’t give that girl Zandora’s phone number,” I said. “I just told her I would give Zandora her cell number but I never did. I never did.”

I could tell I’d fucked up as soon as the words were out of my mouth. The boss’ eyes narrowed. Jesse’s grin came back, wider than ever.

“Lia doesn’t have a cell phone,” the boss said.

Jesse’s hand was on my throat again. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of that. I know plenty of girls that are really into that asphix shit, but not me.

“Let’s start again,” the boss said. “From the beginning.”

I won’t bore you with the details, but they got it all out of me. Everything. The note, the club I faxed it to, where Zandora was staying in Vegas, everything. I would have told them about the time I took three dollars from Sister Mary Francis’ desk drawer back in the second grade if they had asked. But what the boss kept coming back to I couldn’t help him with. The fucker just wouldn’t let go of the business with the briefcase full of money. He seemed convinced that I either had his money or knew where it was.

My lips felt hot and huge and one of my teeth felt loose in its socket. I was pretty sure my nose was broken, making it extremely difficult to breathe. My eyes were blacking up and closing down fast, blurry with blood and sweat. I was crying by then and hating myself for it. Helpless, silent tears dripped down into my ears as I turned my head to the side and spat blood onto the plastic.

“Please,” I said. “Please.”

Someone else had arrived, someone I could only see out of the corner of my eye, conferring with the rhino. I thought it might be the weasely guy who showed up at my office looking for Lia, but maybe not. It was difficult to concentrate with Jesse in my face, pressing down on me.

On my other side, the boss looked up and raised his eyebrows as some wordless confirmation passed between him and the rhino. He leaned in close to my ear.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” he said. He gestured to Jesse.

Jesse climbed off me, pouting like a scolded kid, and the rhino came forward, dragging Sam with him until they were both right beside the bed. I was still having trouble getting my eyes to focus, but eventually it registered that the rhino had a gun in his hand. In a weird moment of recognition, I noticed that it was the same make and model as my own, a Sig P232 that I bought after an unsettling encounter with an overzealous fan. I caught a lot of flack for choosing what several more gun-savvy friends referred to as a “girly gun.” They lectured me about stopping power and how the .380 or 9mm “short” just didn’t measure up to the standard 9, but I liked the way it felt in my hand better than anything else I’d tried. It looked like a toy in the rhino’s thick fist. I wondered if anyone ever teased him about his choice of such a “girly gun,” but all those thoughts evaporated when he raised the barrel to Sam’s cheekbone.

“Jesus,” Sam said, his eyes huge like a horse about to bolt. “Angel for Christ’s sake, tell him!”

“Where’s the money, Angel?” the boss asked.

A cold spike of adrenaline flash-froze the sick, dizzy pain in my body and I was suddenly completely sharp and lucid.

“Please,” I said. “I’ve told you I don’t know anything about your money. Why would I lie? You gotta believe me.”

“You and Sam have been friends for a long time, huh?” the boss said. “He’s a nice guy? A family man? You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to your old friend Sam, would you?”

I completely lost it then. I sobbed and wailed and begged like I swore I wouldn’t.

The rhino shot Sam anyway, lowering the gun and putting a bullet in Sam’s knee. Sam collapsed, screaming, to the floor. There is something indescribably horrible about hearing a grown man scream like that. Especially when that man is one of your oldest friends.

At that point I’m pretty sure I was screaming too. The rhino hauled Sam back up where I could see him and shoved the stubby little snout of the gun between Sam’s lips.

“How about it, Angel?” the boss said.

I could not stop screaming. I wanted to lie and make up some place where the fucking imaginary money was hidden, anything to stop this madness, but it was as if the English language had deserted me. Something had snapped inside me. They had broken me and I think they knew it.

“I don’t think she knows, boss,” the rhino said, pulling the little gun from Sam’s mouth and wiping it on Sam’s shirt.

The boss nodded thoughtfully. The rhino let Sam drop back down to the floor. Jesse was back on the bed and I think he was groping me, but I barely felt it. I had stopped screaming then but I also stopped feeling anything. Call it shock or overload or whatever, my brain had decided enough was enough. It had simply put on a hat, picked up two suitcases, and fucked off to parts unknown. It wasn’t that I blacked out. Everything just went distant and surreal, like something on television.

“Take care of that,” the boss told the rhino, gesturing to the sobbing heap that was Sam. Then he turned back to Jesse. “She’s all yours.”