Chapter 12
Tommy
I think someone needs to pinch me.
No really, pinch me. Punch me. Anything.
Because this, this, isn’t… like, real, is it?
Young-gi’s sitting next to me, his eyes boring holes into the side of my head, and I’m internally writhing with crazy fucked-up feelings that are somehow a trainwreck between being horny and terrified.
And not all my writhing is internal, despite my best efforts to sit still.
We’re here in this luxury car together because…
because he was having me watched and followed and then came to get me.
But not to slap my wrist and take me back home like a bad kid caught outside of school. No, he offered me a ride.
Why?
Fuck if I know.
And why am I actually taking him up on it?
I don’t want him to see me the way I really am - dirt poor and undocumented and getting taken advantage of in every aspect of my life because I’ve got no choices and no power here.
But he just, he made it sound like, he, and I…
ugh… I thought he kind of wanted me to let him drive me there.
And for a second, I wanted to do what he wanted me to do.
I wanted to be good for him, because him coming to get me and offering me a ride means a lot to me.
Means that maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he thought I was valuable.
Seriously, fucking pinch me. And by pinch me, I mean please run me over at the earliest opportunity. Thanks.
“Is this the place?” Young-gi asks, yanking me back to the present.
I blink out the window at the sad view of my two-story apartment building in the daylight.
It’s shambolic and crowded, with too many doors facing the street because none of the units are very big.
All the windows are taped over with black trash bags or tinfoil to help keep out the heat, since the insulation is shit and the central air barely works.
The parking lot we pull into is narrow and pitted and half full of bulk trash like broken furniture and smashed electronics, all of which have been rotting on the curb and in parking spots since I started renting here over a year ago.
“Yep.”
“What are we here for?” he asks as we get out of the car together.
I bet we look like an odd pairing; me in a hoodie and jeans (albeit nicer ones than I’ve ever worn, all soft and warm), and him in a sharp business suit, looking like a GQ model had a baby with a psychopathic killer.
But despite the fact that he clearly stands out and doesn’t belong in shitholes like this one, he doesn’t look around like he’s disgusted with the place, or judging it, and I appreciate that.
“Checking on my roommates.” I lead him toward the rickety, damn-near deadly stairs that lead up to the second floor. “Paying this month’s rent so they don’t give away my spot. Hey,” I turn and face him sternly. “Place your feet where I place mine. These stairs are a death trap.”
He holds my eyes, and nods somberly, like I’m about to lead him through a minefield. In a way, I fucking am. I’m not kidding about these stairs.
With care and caution, I show him how to avoid the wobbly steps, the rotted planks, and the ones with the nails poking out of them. Watching him from the top nervously, I breathe a sigh of relief once he’s made it, then get annoyed at myself for being so worried in the first place.
“Come on,” I order, stiff and embarrassed, because I’m sure my concern for him was obvious, and that’s uncomfortable. I stalk down the walkway, and glance down at his fancy car to see Yosef waiting beside it, scanning for danger. Good. Maybe we’ll get in and out without any trouble.
Doubtful. I already saw a scout–a little kid indebted to a group of older criminals, usually barely past childhood themselves–run off once we parked, so we’d better hurry or face some carjackers.
I open the door to my unit, shoving hard with my shoulder and wincing because my bruised back doesn’t like that.
“It’s not locked.” Young-gi states the obvious as it creaks inward, letting out a waft of air that smells like cigarettes, weed, and stale food.
“Lock’s busted. And if we fix it, the next time there’s a break-in it will just get busted again.
” I peer inside cautiously, looking for trouble but seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
“Everyone says you gotta lock your doors at night, but that’s only if you have something worth stealing, and that just makes you a target.
Better to leave everything unlocked. People will know you’ve got nothing, that way. ”
“Tommy?” A surprised face pops up over the back of our ratty, sunken couch.
We have a tiny computer monitor on a crate as our ‘TV’, and Joshy is using it to watch the weather channel, because the weather channel is one of the free ones.
“Dude, I was scared you were dead or something. You just never came home. Tyler thought you’d been deported. ”
Shit. “Is Tyler here? Did he give my spot away?” I hustle into the house, Young-gi on my heels, but I see my mattress still on the floor in the otherwise empty, microscopic ‘dining room’ next to the tiny, closet-sized kitchen.
I sigh with relief upon seeing it, acutely aware that Young-gi isn’t stupid and will quickly infer that this is my bed, where I sleep–a bare twin mattress on the floor next to a hole in the wall and a perpetually cracked window.
To be fair, at least I don’t have to share a room with anyone. All the other guys sleep two to a room.
“Nah, not yet,” Joshy heaves himself up from the couch unsteadily and trails behind us, one hand on the wall for balance. “Tyler’s out on a jobsite or whatever, I don’t know. I’m not his mom. Who’s this?”
I ignore the question, as if Young-gi hovering over my shoulder like a storm cloud in an Armani suit is something I could just pretend isn’t there.
I dig into my pocket for cash instead. “I’m glad you’re here, at least. If it had been anyone else, I’d be fucked.
I’ve got rent money. Give it to Tyler when you see him next time.
I’m coming back for my spot, so tell him don’t give it to anyone or I’ll beat the shit out of him. ”
“Yeah, sure, for sure,” Joshy takes the bills in his free hand, since he needs one to balance against the wall.
The stark, open wistfulness on his face as he looks at the bills makes me hesitate, before tossing an extra bill on top, leaving me with only a fifty in my pocket, but that’s fine, more than I usually have in my pocket anyway.
“That one’s for you, since you’re doing me a favor.”
His face lights up, and he slaps my shoulder good naturedly before quickly catching himself so he doesn’t fall over. “Hey, dude, thanks!”
Joshy is decent, but even decent folks get hungry. He’d feel bad if he stole something from me, but we’ve all been there. I would be annoyed, but I wouldn’t blame him.
“I’m not staying,” I say, which should be totally obvious but sometimes Joshy isn’t the brightest bulb. “But I’ll be coming back, okay?”
“Yeah, I got it. So, you went back to it, huh?” He tilts his head at Young-gi, who’s standing there like an exotic predator stuck in the wrong pen at a zoo.
Joshy nods before I can ask him what he’s talking about.
“Nice. I always thought you were crazy for giving it up. I mean, if anybody would pay as much for me as they did for you, I’d do it too, but only the real freaks want me and I’m not sure I’d be up for that.
” He waves at the burn scars that cover most of the otherwise pale skin of his face, making his eyes lopsided and searing away half his hair.
The scarring goes down his neck and disappears under his clothes, reappearing all the way down at the stumps where his legs end too early.
His prosthetics are too small, constantly chafing him and pinching him, and aren’t exactly the same size, so he walks like shit, but he’s a real trooper and does his best. They don’t bend well anymore, either, he’s had them for way too long and I’m not even sure they were made for him, so he’s always balancing on them like stilts.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, then do a double take at Young-gi, my eyes blowing wide. “Shit, no, he’s not–I’m not–he’s… No. I’m with his niece. I’m–actually, it doesn’t matter, but it’s not like that.”
“Uh…” Joshy’s one eyebrow bunches up in confusion, trying to work out how being with this hot, rich guy’s niece ended up with me being here, flush with cash and wearing new clothes and gold piercings. Eventually, he just shrugs. “Okay. Understood, man, sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble, my ears burning and my gut churning.
I can’t look at Young-gi. I can’t. He has to know what Joshy was just implying.
He has to know. And I bet he’s disgusted, I bet he hates me, recoils from me, I bet he’s judging me right now, looking down his nose at me–that judgmental asshole!
I work myself up into a furor and glare up at him, only for my indignant anger to kind of sputter out when I see him standing there, as blank faced as ever, just watching me. Exactly the same as always.
So despite the fact that, up until this point, I’d found his stare disconcerting and unfamiliar, my shoulders relax a little now that it hasn’t changed.
“Hey, but speaking of, Oscar’s back outta lockup.”
Oscar. I tsk my tongue in annoyance and wave the words away. “Don’t care. I’ll come check on everything later, okay? I mean it, tell Tyler not to give my bed away. I’ll be coming back for it, and if he does–”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll beat the shit out of him, I know.
” He rolls his eyes good naturedly while shoving the money deep into his pocket.
I have a flutter of nerves in my gut before shrugging them away.
I can’t do anything about it if Joshy steals from me and they give away my bed.
I don’t have time to wait around for Tyler, who is the guy technically on the lease and who is the unofficial landlord for this unit.