Two
Eduardo - I refuse to think of the tosser as my father - is an asshole. After the few days I was forced to stay with him, doing my best to escape and getting thrashed for it, if anyone had told me I’d be happy to see him again, there’s not a chance in hell I’d have believed them.
I was wrong.
“You’d do best to mind yourself and your mouth,” Eduardo growls at me, his grip on my arm bruising as he gets right in my face.
His stinking breath makes me cringe, and his spittle makes me want to run to the bathroom and wash.
And that’s saying something for a kid who dodges the shower like being clean might give me cooties.
“Otherwise, life for you is going to be painful and short-lived.”
I don’t know quite how serious he is until the day he delivers me to some big-ass compound with ten-foot walls topped with razor-wire and gates made of bullet-proof steel… or so he tells me, anyway.
Still, I feel a shiver of foreboding as he frog marches me through a pedestrian entrance past a guy who looks like he’s in the army, except he’s all dressed in black instead of camo.
The gun he’s toting is enough to make me behave, though.
That thing is no joke. And he looks mean enough to use it, too.
Inside, the place is a surprise. Unlike the outside, it’s the kind of fancy you see in movies about rich dudes.
Marble floors stretch out like ice rinks, the same kind of color, and there’s a humongous… thing that looks like an upside-down tree. It’s made of shiny glass and dangly, sparkly bits that glitter like jewels, and it looks like it should be in a castle.
My sneakers squeak on the polished stone, and I’m suddenly aware of how shabby I must look in my grubby t-shirt and pants that are a bit too short cos Ma said I grew like a weed over the summer break.
Eduardo doesn’t give me time to gawk. He drags me through hallways that twist and turn until I’m completely lost, past rooms with closed doors that muffle sounds I don’t want to think too hard about.
We stop outside a pair of heavy wooden doors, and Eduardo straightens his shirt like he’s suddenly worried about making a good impression. That scares me more than anything else so far. If this bastard is nervous, what the hell am I walking into?
He knocks twice, and a voice from inside calls out something I can’t make out.
Eduardo shoves the door open and pushes me forward so hard I stumble. I catch myself just before I face-plant on an ugly rug.
“Mr. Rossi, sir. I’ve brought payment, as agreed.”
Payment?
The word hits me like ice water. I spin around to look at Eduardo, but he’s not looking at me. His eyes are fixed on someone behind a massive desk at the far end of the room.
I turn back slowly.
The man sitting there doesn’t look like the monster Eduardo’s built him up to be during the drive over here.
He’s not huge or covered in tattoos and scars.
He’s actually kind of normal-looking, except for his eyes.
Those eyes are cold. Not angry cold, but empty cold.
Like looking at roadkill that’s been dead a long time.
He studies me the way Ma examines fruit at the market, and I have to resist the urge to fidget under his gaze, even though every instinct screams at me to run.
“This is the boy?” His voice is smooth, almost pleasant. That makes it worse somehow.
“Yes, sir. My son. Ten years old, healthy, and with plenty of street smarts.” Eduardo sounds like he’s selling a used car.
My son. The words should mean something, but Eduardo spits them out like they’re nothing. Like I’m nothing.
If I ever have a son, you can be damn sure I’ll be the best dad ever. Not some loser who doesn’t step up or treats his kid like a commodity.
“And you believe this should settle your debt in full?” Mr. Rossi leans back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin, his eyes dark and unblinking, just like the snake he’s named after.
“Yes, sir. We agreed… “
“I know what we agreed, Eduardo.” The temperature in the room drops about twenty degrees. “I’m asking if you believe this... child... is worth what you owe me.”
I don’t know how much Eduardo owes but based on the fear that flashes across his face, it must be a lot.
Enough to trade away his own flesh and blood.
Although I guess I never did mean much to him.
Eduardo shifts his weight, and I see him swallow hard.
“He’s a good kid. Smart. Very smart. Smartest kid in his school. He’ll do whatever you need him to.”
How does he know that? He’s never been to my school. Took off before I even started.
“Will he?” Mr. Rossi’s gaze slides back to me, and I feel pinned like a bug under glass. “Come here, boy.”
I don’t move. My feet are rooted to the expensive rug, and my heart is hammering so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. It’s the first time since Eduardo took me that I’ve been truly scared.
“I said come here.” Still calm, still pleasant, but now there’s steel underneath.
Eduardo grabs my shoulder and shoves me forward.
I stumble closer to the desk, stopping a few feet away.
Up close, I can see Mr. Rossi better. He’s maybe forty, dark hair slicked back, wearing a suit that probably costs more than Ma makes in a year.
There’s a ring on his finger that catches the light - gold with some kind of snake design.
“What’s your name?”
“Kaiden.” My voice comes out smaller than I want it to.
“And are you as clever as your father wants me to think you are?”
“Umm…”
“How about a little test?”
I don’t think that’s a question I’m supposed to answer.
“If one of my girls earns twenty bucks for each john, and can take four johns in an hour, how much should she be giving me after a twelve-hour shift?”
I don’t know what a john is, but the math is simple enough. “Nine hundred and sixty dollars,” I tell him quickly.
Mr. Rossi quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, how about something a little more complex, hmm? If I have ten kilos of product that’s ninety percent pure and want to turn it into fifteen kilos but the final mix cannot drop below sixty percent purity, else the buyers won't touch it, what do I mix it with?”
“Umm… M-Mr. Rossi, sir?” Eduardo stutters. The man in front of me silences him with a single swipe of his hand, then continues.
“You have three additives to fill the gap. Levamisole keeps it shiny, like they wanna see it. Lidocaine gives it a numbing sensation when tasted, making them think it’s higher quality than it is. And then there’s Boric acid, which is a cost-effective filler.”
“Sir, I don’t think…” Eduardo tries again.
“I’m not asking you to think,” Mr. Rossi says, his tone arctic. “I’m asking your son to think. Interrupt me again, and I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
He looks back at me.
“If you use too much Boric acid, the texture looks dull and cheap.
If you use too much Lidocaine, the numb feels fake.
To keep the premium appearance my reputation depends on, tell me this.
What percentage of each additive are you mixing in to make it all seem kosher, and give me the best return on my investment?
Eduardo makes a strangled noise behind me, but I ignore him. “You haven’t given me enough information to answer all that,” I tell the guy without looking away.
Dude’s not gonna trick me. I am too smart for that.
The Viper raises an eyebrow. "And what’s that, professore?"
"I need to know the cost of the additives,” I tell him. "If the stuff that makes it shine or numb costs ten times more than the filler, then you’ve gotta weigh the look against the yield.”
I pause for a moment, something else occurring to me.
"Also, does the density of the filler affect the final volume? Because if it’s heavier than the base material, fifteen units of weight won't fit in a fifteen-unit container. I need the specific gravity of the fillers to be precise."
There’s an elongated silence that presses heavily around me, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing.
Then Mr. Rossi laughs, loud and long, before searching his desk and handing me a sheet of paper with an invoice on it.
I don’t like his laugh. It’s the kind that makes my skin crawl, like when you hear something scuttling in the walls at night, and you’re not sure if it’s a mouse or something worse.
“Eduardo,” Mr. Rossi says, still chuckling. “It seems you’ve actually brought me something of value for once in your miserable existence.”
I don’t like being called ‘something.’ I’m a person, not a thing. But I keep my mouth shut because that gun-toting guard might still be nearby, and Eduardo’s already proven what happens when I speak up.
“Does this mean we’re square?” Eduardo asks, and there’s this pathetic hope in his voice that makes me hate him even more.
“It means your debt is paid.” Mr. Rossi waves his hand dismissively. “Now get out of my sight before I remember all the other reasons I should put a bullet in you.”
Eduardo doesn’t need to be told twice. I hear his footsteps retreating, fast and relieved, and then the door closes with a heavy thunk that sounds way too final.
“Two kilos of Levamisole, and one and a half kilos of the other two.” I give him the answer even though he’s acting like he doesn’t want it anymore. I’m not falling for that, either.
“But if you mill the Boric acid…” I point to the paper. “Because it says here it’s twice the density, you could cut the Lidocaine down to seven hundred and fifty grams, giving you an overall net profit of $211,817.50.”
“You know, your father told me you were smart. That’s worth something.” He eyes me with those beady, reptilian eyes of his. “He also told me you’re a smart-ass, and I can see he’s right. Don’t doubt for one moment that I won’t beat that out of you, kid.”
He gets right up in my face, and it’s all I can do not to cower.
“Your place is to answer what I ask. Not to think for yourself.”
I’m aware he’s drawn his arm back, but I’m too close to avoid the punch. My head snaps back painfully, and I’m knocked clear off my feet. I hit the smooth, shiny floor with enough velocity to send me flying backwards until my already reeling skull hits the baseboard with a painful thunk.
I lie there, my head spinning, but before I can even think straight again, the Viper grabs me by the arm and drags me to the doorway.
Then he throws me through it, and I fall again, crumpling against the wall.
Tears prickle the backs of my eyes because now my arm and shoulder hurt as well as my head. But fuck if I’ll let him see me cry.
“Find yourself somewhere to sleep, don’t bother anyone, and be right here, outside this suite at 7 am sharp.”
With that, he slams the door closed and leaves me lying there, wondering what the hell has just happened to my life.