Marla sat behind the wheel of her BMW SUV. Next to her was a gym bag full of money. She was terrified of what was going to happen. She had begged Tyrone to come with her for the drop-off, but he refused. Dante had said to come alone, and Tyrone knew that he would have people watching. He didn't want to do anything to provoke Dante. Tyrone also said he would be busy working on a solution. This was something she would have to do on her own.
"Give him the money and get the hell out of there," he had advised her. She didn't have any plans to stick around. She checked the clock. 1:55. She opened the door and got out, taking the gym back with her. She looked around the deserted street. Junior's Garage had been a chop shop back in the day, where Dante and his crew hung out. She had practically lived there for a dark period of her life.
She walked up to the metal door of the dirty, beat up building. The garage doors were shut. The windows next to the entrance were filthy and clouded over. It was deathly quiet. She tried the knob and the opened with a loud creak. She stepped into what had once been a small lobby, and the door clanged shut behind her sending a loud boom to echo and reverberate inside the metal building.
The interior was dimly lit. She walked around the counter and into the main area of the garage. The lifts had been removed long ago. She saw Dante sitting in the back on a ratty, broken-down old sofa. A man she instantly recognized stood next to him.
Jerome. Her breath caught in her throat. They were both looking at her.
"Well, well," came the echoing voice of her ex-husband. "You showed up. Smart girl. You got my money?" He didn't get up. Jerome started walking towards her.
"It's in here." She tossed the gym bag into the middle of the open floor. "A hundred-thousand. Now leave us alone." She backed toward the exit.
"Not so fast!" shouted Dante, "We need to count it. It's not that I don't trust you, Liz, but I don't trust you."
She stopped and waited. Jerome picked up the bag and took it to Dante. Her ex-husband opened it and dumped the contents out on the couch. He started counting it. As he did, Jerome started walking toward Marla.
"It's all there. I'm not stupid enough to short-change you." she was feeling her panic level rising the closer Jerome got to her.
"You're stupid enough to rat me out to the police and think you could get away with it." he shot back. Jerome was halfway to her.
She stepped backward, "I'm leaving. Count it on your own time. Just leave my family alone. That was the deal." She turned and quickly headed in the direction of the lobby exit. She could hear Jerome's feet and knew he was running. She broke into a sprint and made it to the doorway before she felt Jerome's large hands grab her arm and jerk her to a stop. He pulled her back into the garage.
Marla struggled and fought to get free from Jerome's iron grip. He just dragged her across the room with little effort.
"Let go of me, goddamit! I gave you the money!" she screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls. Jerome kept dragging her until he held her kicking and squirming in front of Dante.
"Shut the fuck up!" Dante said as he counted, "You done made me lose my count. Now I gotta start again." He nodded to Jerome, "Get my wife a chair so she can be comfortable while I count."
"I'll stand," she said defiantly.
"You'll shut the fuck up, is what you'll do." He resumed counting, ignoring her. Jerome let her go and walked into a storage closet, returning with an old metal chair and set it down facing Dante. When Marla didn't sit, Jerome grabbed her and shoved her down into it. She let out a startled cry, then was still.
"Get my wife a drink," Dante ordered.
"I don't want a drink. I want to go. I gave you the money." Jerome swung his arm, striking her across the face, hard. She fell out of the chair onto her hands and knees on the hard concrete floor.
"Dante told you to shut the fuck up, you dumb fucking cunt." He picked her up and slammed her back into the chair. Marla was dazed, seeing stars. She felt her left cheek burning and tasted blood.
"Please, I gave you the money. Just let me go. I gave you want you wanted," she pleaded with Dante, but he ignored her.
"Please, Dante, please," she begged. Jerome returned, and she stopped speaking, not wanting to be hit again. She could already feel the left side of her face swelling.
He held a red solo cup out to her. "Drink it."
"No, thank you, I don't want to drink." She was suspicious of what was in the cup. She knew it wasn't hospitality that motivated Dante. She saw two more men, younger men in their twenties come out of the storage room.
Jerome stood in front of her. "Drink it, or I'll fucking make you drink it, but you'll be missing a few teeth." He held the cup out to her again.
She took it in her hand and looked inside. There was a purplish liquid filling the cup about halfway. It looked like weak grape kool-aid. She didn't drink, afraid of what it was and what it would do to her.
She noticed the two younger thugs were pulling a piece of equipment over. She could see a large metal cylinder, like a giant scuba tank and some hoses on a handcart. She watched them nervously.
"Last time I'm telling you. Drink it!" snapped Jerome.
She raised the cup to her lips and sipped. It tasted like grape soda, but extremely bitter. She cringed and shook her head. "What is this?" she asked.
"All of it!" Jerome said placing a menacing hand on the back of her chair next to her head, leaning over her. She raised the cup and drank as much as she could. She gagged and choked on the awful taste. Her stomach recoiled, and she felt she might puke. "More!" Jerome shouted at her.
She flinched away from him then emptied the cup swallowing the rest. He took the empty cup from her and walked out of the room.
"Dante, please," she tried to plead with him again. She felt a slight surge of queasiness hit her. She saw the couch Dante was on tilt sideways. She felt as if the whole room was leaning to one side. She shook her head trying to clear her vision. Dante's head seemed too large to fit on his body. He was watching her and laughing. She laughed too.
"Oh, yeah, she feels it now," he said, standing up.
"What did you put in that drink?" she asked, over-articulating each word slowly as she struggled to speak. Her head was drifting from one side the other, and her eyes couldn't focus on anything.
Dante stood in front of her and grabbed her tits. She felt it, but it was like it was happening in slow motion. "Don't. Touch. Me" she said, then giggled, her head rolling backward. She felt the garage tilt back, like a roller coaster going up the starting hill. "clickety-clickety-clickety."
"Fuck, what is this shit?" she felt incredible. Her whole body was alive and surging with a slow-rolling wave of sensation.
"Twenty-two years I went without touching a pair of tits because of you." He squeezed her tits hard.
"I'm sorry, baby," she said slowly, a hint of a Texas drawl in her voice. "They made me do it."
Jerome returned and walked behind her. He took her arms and pulled them behind her back and secured them with a large zip-tie. She turned her head to look up at him smiling, "Oh, hey Jerome. Long time no see."
"Hey, Liz, welcome back." he chuckled.
"That's my name!" she said, pitching forward, her head rolling around. Jerome knelt and grabbed her right foot and secured it to the right-front leg of the chair with another zip-tie. He moved around and secured her left leg to the left-front leg.
Dante gripped her blouse with both hands and ripped it apart; buttons flew across the room to scatter all over the floor.
"Oops," Marla said giggling.
