Skin Games (26 page)

When he pulled back, I grabbed for my nose.  My face felt flattened, the nose surely broken.  Blood gushed out.

Vinny walked over and dropped a tissue.  I quickly wiped my face, still keeping my knees up high and my arms out in front of my face, doing my best to protect myself.

“What’s the matter?  You feel sorry for the asshole?” Scrubby said.

“Nah, just trying to keep the floor clean.”

Scrubby chuckled.  Tommy walked up, looking down at me.  He tried to kick me in the groin, but I rolled away and curled up again showing him my back so his toe hit my thigh instead.  Scrubby just kept on laughing.  Vinny walked out of the room.

Vinny returned a minute or two later carrying a wooden dining room chair.  “Get him up.  Let’s go,” Vinny commanded.

Tommy and Scrubby grabbed me and pulled me to my feet.  Vinny slid the chair behind me, and they dropped me.  I couldn’t find the strength to put my hands in the way, and my ass, sore from all the kicks it had taken, landed hard on the firm seat of the chair.

Scrubby immediately grabbed my arms and yanked them back.  Vinny tossed a roll of duct tape to Tommy, who ripped off a big piece and taped my hands together behind the chair.  Then Tommy taped each of my legs to the legs of the chair.

Vinny looked at his shiny gold watch.  “Mario will be here soon.”

Scrubby walked up into my space and said, “Lucky for you.  If it was up to me, I’d just kill you now, you piece of shit.”

“Yeah, but it’s not up to you,” Vinny said.  “Now shut the fuck up.  I’m tired of listening to you.”

Scrubby clenched his hand into a tight fist and waved it at me.  He got up close and put his knuckles right up to my nose.

I blew out, and blood mixed with boogers shot onto his fingers.

“That’s fucking gross,” he said.  Then he wiped his hand on my pants.  He grabbed my shirt and tugged it.  “You are fuckin’ dead, asshole.  Dead.”  He leaned up close and whispered in my ear.  “Look around, Shamrock.  You see this room?  You are never gonna leave this room.  This is it for you.”

“That’s enough,” Vinny said.  “Just shut up and wait for Mario.”

Scrubby shook his head; his eyes narrowed and squinted.  He licked his lips while slowly walking backward.  Then he stepped out into hallway.  Vinny followed.

Time passed slowly.  Tommy was the only one left in the room with me, and he seemed bored.  There was an old bedroom vanity in one corner of the storage room, and Tommy was sitting in front of it, fixing his puffy hair, combing it half to the side and half back.  He played with his tie, slapped some dust off the shoulder of his suit.  Eventually, he got up and walked over towards me.

He didn’t say a word.  Tommy just eyeballed me like a science project.  He seemed fascinated.  This was just another day at the office for him.  Tommy was a known killer.  Still, he seemed particularly interested in me as he walked forward.

Tommy waved his finger at me as if about to say something he thought profound, but thought better of it and returned to the vanity and the tightening of his canary yellow tie.

The door flung open and hit the back wall.   Mario lumbered in, huffing and puffing like he’d run all the way from Tremont Avenue.  He was chewing on a cigar, and the sneer on his face was long.

Gucci Mike came in next, followed by Vinny and Scrubby.  Scrubby shut the door, and they all stepped towards me, Mario at the front of the pack.

He stopped, breathed heavily and took the cigar out of his mouth.  Mario spit a chunk of brown goop on the floor, then started chewing again.  He shook his head back and forth, back and forth, back and forth again.

Scrubby smiled while rubbing his hands together.  Tommy scratched his cheek with his thumb.  Gucci Mike inched closer, just barely behind Mario.  Vinny stood in the back, chin raised.

“So, you wanna play fucking games with me?” Mario said.  Then his voice raised and he yelled, “I’ll show you fucking games!”

He paused, like he wanted me to respond.  But I knew better.  Any words out of my mouth at this point would only fuel the fire, a fire that already had plenty of gasoline under it.  Plenty.

Mario tossed the chewed-up cigar to the side and said, “I gave you a chance.  I gave you several chances.  But you couldn’t take a hint.  Could ya?  Could ya?”  He turned around, shaking his head and breathing heavily.  He looked at his men as if they had the answers.  None of them said a word, preferring to stand at the ready just waiting for Mario to give the order to unleash more fury on me.

Instead Mario turned back towards me and reached into the breast pocket of his dress shirt.  He pulled out a fresh cigar.  He reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out the cigar clipper.  He snipped the air a few times then stuck the thick brown cigar into the clipper and pushed it down.  A chunk of cigar flew off, and Mario put the rest in his mouth.

Gucci Mike ran over while pulling out a shiny gold lighter from his pants.  He snapped open the lighter and fired up a flame.

Mario sucked in and smoke filled the room.  He pulled at the cigar, long and hard.  The thick embers on the tip flared up and then went down as he sucked then stopped, sucked then stopped.

Mario began shaking his head again.  He took the cigar out of his mouth and began to laugh.  It wasn’t a nasty, sadistic laugh like Scrubby’s.  He waved his pointer finger at me and his eyebrows scrunched up.  I think it’s fair to say he was befuddled by me.  The others followed suit, and soon the entire room was laughing.  Other than me, of course.  I just sat still and quiet, a lamb waiting for the final slaughter.

“What am I going to do with you, Shamrock?  Tell me.”

“Whatever you wish, sir.”  I finally spoke.  I don’t know why, but the words just came out.  Better to kill him with kindness.

“Whatever I wish?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mario turned to Vinny and said, “He really is something, ain’t he?”

“He sure is.”

“A great fuckin’ earner.”

“The best.”

Mario turned back to me and said, “You could have been someone special.  Could’ve had a great career.  Worked your way up through the ranks and made a name for yourself.  But now you’re here.”

“Yes, sir.  I’m here.”

“Do you believe this kid?  Still calls me sir.  He’s respectful.  Gotta give him that.”

Vinny said, “His mother taught him well.”

“Yeah, that Italian whore mother.  She taught you respect, didn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.  And she wasn’t a whore, sir.”

Mario knocked the flaming head off his cigar and then put it back in his mouth and began chewing.  “Respect?  You don’t know respect.  If you knew respect you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.  If you knew respect you wouldn’t have fucked my daughter!”

The room went completely silent.  Scrubby and Tommy exchanged glances, then both looked down quickly when they saw Gucci Mike taking notice.

Mario spit another wad of cigar out, then chomped at it some more.  He lowered his voice to a whisper and walked up close to me.  “You want to know the craziest part about this whole thing?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I’m gonna give you a second chance.”

Scrubby and Tommy exchanged more glances.  This time Gucci Mike and Vinny did, too.

“Really.  I’m serious.  I am going to give you another chance.  I’m going to have the boys untie you, drive you back to your place, and even keep you on the payroll.  You can continue to work for Vinny.  Everything will be nice nice.  Even my nephew will promise to leave you alone, as soon as I tell him to.”

Scrubby looked straight down at his toes, puckering his lips sheepishly as if about to start whistling.

“Alls you gotta do is one thing.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Leave my daughter alone.  Forever.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear his condition.  I should probably have soaked it in.  Taken my time.  Thought through what he was saying, and what it meant.  But my response was automatic.  The words shot right out of my mouth.  “I’m sorry, sir.  I just can’t do that.”

Mario bit down on the cigar, then flung it over my shoulder.  “You what?”

“I’m sorry, sir.  I just can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I gave Nicole my word that I wouldn’t back down to you.”

“You gave Nicole your word that you wouldn’t back down to me?”

I figured making a parrot joke wouldn’t be appreciated, so instead I just told him straight.  “Yes.  I promised her that I would stand by her side.  That I knew the kind of man you are and that I wouldn’t cave in like all her past boyfriends did.”

The room could no longer stay silent.  All at once they started talking.  Scrubby saying something about let’s just kill this piece of shit now and Tommy agreeing that we should fuck the punk up while Gucci Mike was saying what the fuck is wrong with this guy and Vinny shrugging that he just didn’t know I always seemed like a good kid.

“Shut up!” Mario shouted.

They shut up.

“I am really trying to be nice to you, Shamrock.  But you, you are really pushing my patience to the limit.  Past the fucking limit.  It’s over between you and Nicole.  Over.  Period.  Done with.  End of fucking story.  So you can either go back to working for Vinny, or you can be buried in a ditch.  Neither of those choices involve you and Nicole being together again.  So choose.”

“Those are your choices, sir.”

“What?  What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Those aren’t my choices.  Those are your choices.  I’ve made my choice.  Now you have to decide how you’ll react to my choice.”

“You’ve made your choice?”

“Yes, sir.  I’ve made a promise to Nicole.  I won’t break it.”

“You won’t break it?”

“No, sir.”

The bemused smile returned.  “Then I’ll just have to break you.  One bone at a time.”  He turned to the boys and said, “Talk some sense into this prick.”

Scrubby led the charge.  He punched my already-busted nose once, then twice, then three times.  Then he rubbed his knuckles and stepped aside as Tommy took a turn.  Tommy preferred a backhanded technique, rapping my cheeks, chin and jaw with his forearm and then banging his elbow into the back of my head.

The rabbit punches made me dizzy, and I barely felt the next few rounds of smacks to the head.  I began to flash back to the beating I’d taken in the yard at Riker’s Island.  This would be no different.  I was the donkey.  The key was to tire out the farmers.

But these two farmers had a lot of stamina.  Vinny and Gucci Mike got in a shot or two, but most of the damage came from Scrubby and Tommy Guns.  Whereas Vinny and Gucci Mike were merely doing their duty, Scrubby and Tommy seemed to genuinely enjoy fucking me up.  I think they could’ve lasted all day.  But Mario cut them off.

“That’s enough.  Let him think about it for a while.”

Mario walked through the door.  Gucci Mike followed. 

Vinny started towards the door but turned back to say, “Come on.  Let’s go.  You heard the boss.”

Tommy and Scrubby high-fived one another and then walked out of the room.  Vinny turned back, shut off the light, then closed the door.

* *

Without a clock to tell time and without windows to see the sun rise and set, it’s tough to keep track of things.  Add to that the excruciating pain of a broken nose, a possible concussion and surely a few broken ribs, and it’s safe to say I have no idea how long they left me there, tied tightly to the wooden chair.

I wiggled a bit.  Tried to stand up.  Tried to shake free.  But I couldn’t get loose, and I was really tired and sore.  I just couldn’t muster up the strength to do much other than lean forward in the chair and slam it back down.  My legs were taped so tightly to the legs of the chair I couldn’t balance upright.  And my arms were so snug behind my back there was just no way to loosen them.

There were noises coming from the other side of the door.  Voices followed by keys jingling.  The door came open.

The first guy through was Scrubby Mike, followed by Gucci Mike and Tommy Guns.  I heard heavy breathing, and then I saw two fat men lumber into the doorway.  Vinny came in last and flipped on the light.

The first heavyset man was Mario.  The other was Bondo.

“You remember me, don’t you, kid?”

“How could I forget the high quality windbreaker.”

The flab in Bondo’s belly jiggled as he laughed.  He turned to Mario and said, “Sounds like the kid still has some fight left in him.”

“For the moment,” Mario responded.

Bondo walked over to me and unzipped his windbreaker.  Underneath he had a button-up shirt that was expanding at the seams.  I could see bulges of his belly slipping out the holes between buttons.  He slapped his belly and said, “It’s really great to see you again, kid.”

“Likewise.”

“Of course, I wish your mother was here.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Why?  I’m not going to disparage the good name of your mom.  She gave the best head in town.”

“Fuck you.”

“You know how she couldn’t afford to post your bail.  I don’t work for free you know.”

“Fuck off.”

“It was straight fee for services.  No big deal.  Right man?”

They were trying to bait me.  Goad me into losing it.  It wasn’t going to work.

“So what if you fucked my mom.  What do I care?”

Bondo shrugged.  “Okay.  But I didn’t fuck your mom.  She sucked my cock is all.  And I waived my fee on your bail bond.  She sucked my cock.  Vinny’s cock.  Pretty much every cock in this room.”

“She never sucked mine,” Scrubby said.  “Damn shame, too.  I heard she was a fuckin’ champ.  Took the whole thing down, right Vinny?”

Vinny rolled his eyes.

Bondo got right up to me.  I could smell the body odor of his fat-man sweat.  “You’re in for a long day, kid.”  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pen knife.  He unfolded it, then looked down.  “Scrubby, come here.  Cut his legs free.”

Scrubby walked over, took the knife and said, “What’s the matter?  Too fat to bend down?”

“Shut up and do it,” Mario said firmly.

Scrubby cut the tape, separating my legs from the chair without bothering to rip it from my pant legs.  He yanked one shoulder, and Tommy quickly ran over and grabbed my other arm.