Save Me (3 page)

Ace took a deep breath.

“I’ll send someone.”

“Thank you.”  Marc hung up the phone and was led back to a cold dark holding room.

Four hours later a young kid, Niles, showed up to bail him out.  Niles was nineteen and newly inducted.  He was a bright kid who deserved better.  A kid who had a future if he’d take the high road.

Marc was buzzed out from the locked doors to the lobby area.  Marc walked past Niles to the front door pissed beyond belief.

“Where’s your car?”

“Over here.” Niles jogged ahead of him and pointed to an old Grand Am.

Marc climbed
in and prepared himself for the upcoming conversation with Ace.

It was daylight by the time they pulled into
the drive of Ace’s large house.

“Ace’s pissed,” Niles warned.

“So am I.”  And Marc was.  Depending on the outcome of the charges, his career could be on the line.

“Marc,” Ace said coldly as he entered the living room area of the large home.  Ace, the head of the gang, lived the high life like a mob boss.

“Ace.”

“Come take a seat.”  Marc walked past Ace and took a seat on the
plush couch.

“What…the…fuck…were…you…thinking?”  Ace stretched the words out and enounced each long and clear.

“Jose hit a girl and left her for dead.”

“Which is the same thing you should have done.”  Ace’s voice was unforgiving.

Marc shook his head.

“It wasn’t her fault Jose couldn’t control his piece of shit.  The reason Jose isn’t in jail is because I wouldn’t rat him out!”

“What do you know, it’s the first thing you’ve done for this gang in years.”

“Jesus Christ Ace, I fight every case you’re little assholes fall into.”

“Assholes, huh.”  Ace took a few steps closer to Marc.

“Yes, ASSHOLES.”

Ace hit Marc with his right fist, a punch with force behind it.  Marc slumped over on the couch, blood dripped from his nose.

“Now you owe me.”  Ace pointed to him.  “You’ll be racing for me again next week and if you lose again, I won’t be so kind.”

Marc composed himself, wiping blood on the back of his hand.

“Fuck you, I don’t have a fucking car Ace.  The police impounded it for their investigation.”

“I’ll make arrangements.”

“Christ, let it go.”

“Are these charges going to stand?”

Marc wiped the steady stream of blood from his nose.  He shook his head. 

“No, they’re bullshit charges.”

“Then don’t sweat it.”

“And now how the fuck do I explain my face to my boss?”

“That’s not my problem.”  Ace sat down.  “Maybe you’ll remember your place in this establishment the next time you’re feeling righteous.”

Marc wanted to flatten Ace.  He wanted to beat him to a fucking pulp and leave, but the scenario wouldn’t play out that way in reality.  In reality he’d wind up dead with a bullet to the temple.

“Niles give him a ride.  Get the fuck out of here.”

Marc followed Niles back out to the Grand Am. 

“You don’t want to cross him man,” Niles warned as they sunk into the beater car.

“Get out while you can,” Marc told him sternly.

“Once a Tiburon, always a Tiburon.  There’s only one way out.”

Marc’s stomach sank.  Wasn’t it the truth.  Likely this kid was a drug mule, that’s what all the young members were, the ones to take the fall.

Niles dropped him off at his building. 

“Sir, are you alright?” the doorman asked.

“I’m fine.  Just a misunderstanding.”

“Do you need me to call the police?”

“I took care of it, it’s alright John.”

John pushed the button for the elevator and Marc rode to his apartment.  Once inside he withdrew his cell phone and called the firm.  He was “under the weather”, that’s all they needed to know.  Stripping his clothes from his taut body, Marc turned the shower on scalding hot and stepped inside.  He leaned against the tile of the shower and hit his fist off the side.  If he could turn back the clock to when he was a kid, the changes he would make.  But, he couldn’t do that.  His life was what it was.  He was a Tiburon.  Once a Tiburon, always a Tiburon.  Marc let the water stream down his back, trying to relax his tensed muscles.  His mind raced with thoughts of Mercy.  Haunted him would be a more accurate description.  Her scared face, her contorted leg.  Was she alive?  If she lived, she’d lose her leg, he had no doubt.  Jose and he had forever changed her life. 

Mark stayed in the shower for more than a half an hour before pulling himself out.  Sleep. 
If he could get his mind to stop racing, that was what was in store.

THE AFTERMATH

Mercy

Mercy woke up feeling as though the world was in suspended animation.  Her head hurt like hell, her chest ached, and her leg seared as though a hot poker had been driven through it.

“Mercy!”  Cora Kendrick leaned over her.  “Baby, oh my God, thank you God, she’s awake!”

“Mom?” Mercy said in a haze.

“Kent, she’s awake!” Cora looked over her shoulder.  Kent, Mercy’s father, came to her bedside with a grim look.

“You’re going to be alright baby girl.”  Cora sat on the side of the bed and took Mercy’s hand.

“Everything hurts.” 

Cora reached over her and pressed a button releasing pain killer.

“That should help.”

“Am I okay?” Mercy asked apprehensively.  She didn’t feel okay.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“We need to tell her before she finds out for herself,” Kent said solemnly. 

“Find out what?”

“Baby girl,” Cora squeezed her hand.  “You broke a few ribs and you’re wrist and had some internal bleeding, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Cora,” Kent said with pain.

“I can’t tell her.”  Cora stood up.  Kent went to her bedside and leaned over.

“We’re going to be here with you every step of the way through your recovery.  And you’re going to be fine, you’re a strong girl.  A strong woman.  You’re going to make it through this.”

“What are you talking about Daddy?”

Kent took a deep breath. 

“They couldn’t save your leg.”

“What do you mean?”  Mercy tried to sit up, but the pain overtook her.  “Help me sit up.”  Mercy’s voice was a few octaves higher.  “Please Daddy, help me up.”

Kent helped her into a sitting position.  She pulled back the sheet and looked down at her stump of a leg.  From just above her kneecap to her foot was gone.  G O N E. 

“Wha…what?”  Mercy looked down in horror.  “No…no, this isn’t happening…”

“Honey, you’re lucky to be alive.  Focus on that, okay.  We’re so thankful to still have you with us.”

“I don’t…no, I mean…no…”  Mercy stared down, her eyes bugged out, the oxygen sucked from her lungs.  Kent took the blanket and gently laid it back over her midsection. 

“This is a dream…it has to be…”  Mercy looked at her parents hoping it was a mirage.

“I’m sorry baby.”  Cora had tears streaming down her face.  “But it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not going to be okay!”  Mercy dropped back against the bed.  “It’s not going to be okay…”

She’d gone from normal to disabled in the blink of an eye.

“You’re alive, that’s what matters honey.  Try to be thankful for that gift.”  Cora fought tears.

Mercy covered her eyes and wept out of control.  Crying hurt, her ribs stung with pain, but she couldn’t stop. 

“Honey, please, please don’t cry.”  Kent fought to keep his composure.  “They make great prosthesis, you’ll never be able to tell you lost a leg.  You’ll live a normal life.”  Kent rubbed her shoulder. 

“Why Daddy, why?”

“The man who did this to you will pay, rest assured.”

“Did…did they find him?”

“Marc Foster, they arrested him night before last.”

“Marc…Marc didn’t hurt me…Marc helped me.”

“Honey, I don’t know what this Marc convinced you of, but he’s the one who did this to you.”

“No.
” Mercy shook her head.  “There was a second car…the guy…he just…he left me.  Marc stayed.”

“The police have charged him.  They wouldn’t charge an innocent man.”

“No,” Mercy wiped her eyes, “it wasn’t him, I know it.”

“Apparently there was a group of cars street racing and this Marc lost control of his car at the intersection.”

“It wasn’t Marc!” Mercy said defending him.  “He was supposed to come to the hospital…but the trooper wouldn’t let him.”

“That’s because he did this to you honey.  If he comes here, so God help me, I will tear him from limb to limb.”

“Daddy, he didn’t do it.”  Mercy wiped her eyes. 

Kent sat in a chair at her bedside.

“What matters right now is you.”  He rubbed her hand.  “Don’t worry about anything else.”

“I can’t believe this.”  Mercy closed her eyes and tried to be thankful for the fact that she was alive, but the loss of her leg still prevailed over her gratitude.

“I’ll get a nurse to let them know she woke up.”  Cora looked to Kent and wiped her eyes.  Kent nodded back.

“I love you, honey
.” Kent leaned over her and kissed her forehead.

“I love you too, Daddy.”  Mercy wrapped her arms around her father’s back.

“We’ll get through this, alright.”

Mercy calmed slightly accepting her fate. 

*****

Marc

Friday, old airstrip in Lincoln.  1 a.m.  Pick up the Nissan GT-R at my pad - Ace

Marc looked down at the text message.

What about my job? 
Marc texted back.

I need you to drive more than I need a lawyer.  Be there.

“Jesus!”  Marc tossed his phone into the wall and collapsed into a recliner dropping his head.  Why did Ace all of a sudden decide he wanted him to drive again?  He was doing his service to the gang by offering them legal services.  WHAT THE HELL.  Marc rose to his feet and retrieved his phone.  The screen was cracked.

Okay. 
He texted back.  Marc hadn’t driven since his early years of college.  It had been years.  They were jeopardizing his career, his very existence.  He wasn’t going back to the life.  He wasn’t going to be a drug mule, a dealer.  Those days were gone.  He wasn’t that man anymore.

Marc stood up and got ready for work.  He adorned a black slim fitted suit and royal blue tied, looking like
a dapper gentleman, headed down to the ground floor, and hailed a taxi.

*****

Mercy

“How long am I going to be in the hospital?” Mercy asked her doctor.

“Until the risk of infection has passed.”

“Will that be week
s?  Months?”

“I can’t give you a timeframe Mercy, I’m sorry.”

Mercy felt dejected.

“But you are doing very well considering.  The fact that you’re alive is a miracle.”

“I’ve been told.”  She was thankful, but also angry.  Angry at the man who hit her and left her for dead.  Mad at herself for not listening to her instincts that night.  Mad at Marc for not coming to the hospital.  He’d promised.  Mad at the trooper for arresting him.

“I’ll be back to check on you later, okay.”

“Thank you doctor.”

The young Indian man walked out of the room and Mercy’s parents returned to her side.  And that’s where they would remain, at their only child’s bedside, steadfast and supportive.

*****

Marc

The sleek black Nissan GT-R sat lined up next to three other cars on an unmarked start line.  A five mile straight shot to an abandoned warehouse on the other side of Lincoln, that was the race.  Ace had dropped a large amount of money on him again, promising retribution if he failed him.  Marc’s hands were covered in a sheen of sweat as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.  His heart pounded in his chest. 
Thud, thud, thud. 
He could win, no doubt.  The GT-R had more power than the other three sports cars and he was a far better driver than the other amateurs, which was exactly why Ace had dropped several thousand on him.

Kent held his hand in the air counting down from three to naught and then dropped hi
s hand.  Marc took off the line instantly taking the lead.  Behind him was a Porsche Panamera trying valiantly to catch him.  The other two trailed and were of no threat. 

The Panamera took the outside on the two lane highway and tried to overtake him. 

“I don’t think so.”  Marc veered left to cut him off.  He looked down at his speedometer.  140 mph.  They weren’t far from the finish line, didn’t take long at that speed. 

The Panamera cut to the right and Marc again cut him off.  Darting left, Marc once again cut him off, but this time the Panamera lost control.  Marc watched in his rearview mirror as the car violently crashed into a telephone pole, rolled over, and then came to a rest on its roof.

“Shit…shit, shit, shit.”  Marc eased off the gas just as he crossed the line.  He slowed and then cut the wheel to go back to the wreckage.  Ace was immediately at his window smacking it hard.

“Get out of here.”

“But Rames—”

Ace opened the passenger side door and slid in. 

“Get the fuck out of here!  Now!”

“I’m not leaving him!”  Marc pressed the gas and cut the wheel driving back toward Rames.

“Turn the fuck around!”  Ace had his Glock pointed at Marc once again.  Marc hated his life.  Hated.  He looked at Ace coldly, slowed the car, and turned around.  The cars at the warehouse disbursed quickly and Marc and Ace were out of town before police arrived on scene.

“I’m getting fucking sick of you pointing that gun at me.  Unless you are going to shoot me, don’t fucking point it at me.”

“It’s the only means to keep you in line.  You need a gentle reminder.”

“I won your
damn race Ace.  What else do you want from me?”

“You’re my driver from now on.”

“What about my fucking job?  I protect the Tiburons’ asses!”  Marc eased the car onto the interstate back toward New York City.

“You’re more useful to me as a driver.  What you do during the day I could give a shit less about.”

Marc wiped his face.

“You don’t even care that Rames is probably dead.”

“There’s nothing we could do for him, man.  And he’s not a Tiburon.”

To Ace, everyone was disposable.  Rames, him, his damn mother for that matter.

“You done good tonight.  You earned me back my fifty Gs.”

Like Marc gave a shit.

“And pushed Rames off the road,” Marc said disgusted with himself.

“You did what it takes.  And that’s why you’re my driver.  You whine like a little bitch the entire time, but you deliver.”

Marc pushed the cruise control and leaned back into the seat trying to relax his locked muscles.

“Let’s celebrate tonight, huh.  A few women, a few drinks, a few hits.”

Marc didn’t do drugs.  That was one thing Ace couldn’t push on him no matter how hard he tried.  The gang’s business was moving drugs, every kind of drug imaginable, but primarily cocaine.  And street racing. 

“I’m tired, I’ll just pick up my car and head back to my apartment.  I have work in the morning.  One of the Tiburons’ cases as a matter of fact.”

“Bullshit.”

“Morales.  Busted for assault and possession of a stolen firearm.”

“Oh yeah.  I remember that.  How’s that case looking?”

“Iron clad.  He’s going away for a while.”

“What a stupid fuck.”

Marc turned off the interstate into the city.  Forty minutes later they were at Ace’s house.

“Here’s your cut.”  Ace passed him an envelope of cash.  Marc tucked it in his back pocket.  “Keep driving like that and you won’t have to worry about working your nine to five.”

“I like my nine to five.”  Marc turned and sat in the seat of his rented Ford Taurus.  Not the type of car he was accustomed to. 

Marc returned home to his apartment and collapsed into his bed.  He fisted his sheets and thought of his future.  If he even had one.