Blackmailed
by Victor Thomas
Chapter 10
Javier
I tried to stand up but tripped over my own feet and fell on my back. I tried again, with better success, and quickly took a few steps back. It would have been an understatement to say Ms. Sherman was only intimidating. She was much more, even though there were no words for it in my vocabulary.
"How dare you?" She addressed her words to Kenny. "Why did I get this disgusting video?"
"Mom, please let me explain."
"I cook your food and buy your clothes. I let you live in my house. I even tried to tolerate your… tendencies."
"It's not what you think it is."
Taking small steps, I mover farther and farther away. I wanted to hug Kenny, who looked embarrassed and miserable, but she probably wouldn't appreciate the gesture. She hadn't been as furious even in my house after he escaped from his father and informed her he didn't want to come back home.
"I don't need to think about what this is," she fumed. "Why on earth did you record this?"
"My brother recorded it," I said.
"I should have guessed that. And your entire family was watching it, weren't they? The sick fucking degenerates."
I clammed up. I had already said too much. She was in a mood where no rational argument would work. I was only a few feet from my boyfriend, I hoped we would still be boyfriends, and there was nothing I could do to support him. He was shaking like a scared puppy.
"You're too smart for this, Kenny. Don't you understand that whatever you post online exists forever?"
"Of course I know that," he said. He turned to look at me. "It's not on the internet, right?"
"No!"
I shook my head furiously, and even more furiously, I hoped that was the case. One could never be too sure what Jorge would do.
She thought for a moment, and if I could read the expression on her face at all, she hadn't finished. I didn't have to wait long to get the confirmation. Her finger pointed at me in a way that got my balls to escape inside my body.
"I'm sure this was your idea," she said. "Did someone pay you for it?"
"Mom, he has nothing to do with the video," Kenny said.
She laughed.
"Why should I believe that?"
I listened while he told her the same story I had just told him. At a few points, I wanted to correct some details but assumed it was better not to intervene. She was mad enough already, and what Jorge had done didn't particularly make me her favorite son in law candidate. When he finished, her gaze turned to me.
"He's telling the truth," I said.
Her lips compressed together so that her mouth looked like a tight line.
"Stay away from my son."
He shot her an agitated look.
"But you promised…"
"Go inside." She pointed at the doorway until he began to walk toward it. Then she gave me one last glance. "I don't want to see you here ever again."
Dark clouds hovered over my head as I stood in the front yard. I watched as Kenny and his mom walked inside and closed the door. My hopes of seeing him anytime soon, if ever, were not high.
"Where the hell were you?"
Jorge's voice was the last thing I wanted to hear when I returned home. Still, my brother was standing in the living room in his worn sweatpants, with his greasy hair sticking out. He was in desperate need of a shower, toothpaste, and deodorant from the odors that wafted in the air. He took a box of cigarettes from one pocket and a lighter for the other.
"None of your fucking business," I said, then remembered the video. "I was playing football at the park."
To my big surprise, he bought it. At least he grunted something on his way to the porch, like it was the most natural thing to play football in jeans in a pitch-dark park. Obviously not the sharpest pencil in the box.
I went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There were a few cans of cheap beer, a carton of week-old orange juice, and the dim light illuminating mostly empty shelves. It was again the time of the month when my parents were waiting for their paychecks. I found some chocolate chip cookies in the cabinet and was about to retreat to my room to bemoan my miserable life, when Jorge opened the front door.
"Come here," he shouted.
"What now?"
I didn't bother to hide the annoyance in my voice.
"Why is my baby brother so cranky?" he asked. "You need some pussy. Clear that head of yours."
He neighed like he had come up with the biggest joke of the century. Besides, coming from his mouth, it was merely pathetic. The little I understood about women, nobody in their right mind would go anywhere near him, and it was easy to see, or smell why.
"Tell me what you want," I said.
"First, you tell me where you actually were."
"Did you not hear or understand?"
He grabbed the neck of my shirt and shoved me against the wall.
"I hope for your sake you weren't with your nerdy little fag."
I broke loose and ignored his threat. What did it matter anyway? Kenny's mother wanted to rip my balls out of my body with her bare hands. The bitch hadn't had a single hint of mercy in her ice-cold eyes. Just thinking of her gave me shivers.
"I don't have time for this bullshit," I said.
I turned to go back inside the house.
His strong fingers squeezed my arms.
"You go nowhere."
We stared at each other. He took another cigarette from the box and lit it with a lighter that had a bikini-clad girl printed on the side. It was as close to a pretty girl as his hands would ever be. The image was faded like the dumbass had pawed it. I didn't want to think about what else he had done.
"What do you want" I asked.
"Just a small favor." He blew a puff of smoke in my face. "I need my driver at midnight."
I sighed.
"Fine, but this will be the absolute last time. Got it?"
The smirk on his face grew broader.
"Since when are you in a position to make demands?"
Why couldn't this damn, stinky, piece of shit drive his own damn car? If this was yet another way of tormenting me, it was working too well.
"What are you going to rob this time?" I asked. "A bank?"
"Nah, too much trouble. I was thinking we would visit another drug store in Parsons."
"I don't have enough gas to drive that far."
He looked at me like I had said something fundamentally stupid.
"Then why are you standing there? Be a big boy and go fill the tank."
I closed my eyes and counted the seconds. My right fist dreamed of his double chin, the sound of his jaw breaking, and the fucking idiot flying against the porch railing. It was tempting, so damn tempting, that I almost let my fist do the talking, but I knew what the inevitable consequences would be.
I can't do it to Kenny.
Not bothering to ask for money for gas, I stormed to my car. It was impossible to close my ears from his cocky guffaw, which edged it's way through my skin and poisoned my mind. When I got to my car, I slammed the door and hit the steering wheel so hard my knuckles howled from the pain.
It took several minutes before my breathing calmed down. My hand still hurt, and probably would for quite some time, but I would suck it up. I was indeed a big boy, and it was time to stop being his bitch. Besides, I'd seen in Kenny's eyes that all hope was not lost yet.
Shit, I hope she hasn't chastised him yet.
I took my phone and typed a message to him, hoping his mom hadn't taken his phone. Maybe she had invented some other punishment, whatever that would be, but he needed to know I had a plan and soon all this nightmare could be over.
I was about to send the message, but I added three more words, hoping he would feel the same.
'I love you.'
Around midnight, I sat in my car, parked in a dark alley near the Rite Aid drug store in Parsons. The entrance was around the corner so I couldn't see inside. Jorge had left only forty-five seconds ago, which meant I should have at least thirty seconds before he came back. That was if I could trust my understandably limited burglary experience.
I stretched sideways and shoved my hand under the seat where he had sat. Patting the carpet, I pushed my fingers farther and found mostly sand and small stones. There were a few thin strips, probably French fries, and something which felt like a candy bar wrapper.
Shit!
I raised to sit and scanned the empty neighborhood. It was misty and gloomy. I continued counting the seconds and estimated that he had been in the store now for and minute and fifteen seconds. Since I couldn't hear footsteps, I decided to still check the compartment in the front passenger door.
My hand touched something plastic, which I seized and pulled out. It was a half empty coke bottle Kenny had left there. I brought it closer to my nose and inhaled. Had I wished to smell him, it was a disappointment. And so was my attempt to find Jorge's phone.
The likelihood of the dumbass forgetting his phone in the car had been small. If I was honest, my chances were nonexistent. Still, I wanted to turn over every stone to find an easier exit. I saw him jogging toward the car and realized that all small stoned would be dead ends, and I had to hit the big rock.
He opened the door and placed his fat ass on the seat.
"We've got to go, now!"
I recognized the edge in his voice. The mocking tone had switched to determined urgency and unyielding orders. It sounded like the Jorge I used to play with as a small kid, and it was the same tone he had used on our previous nightly trip.
"Where are we going?"
I started the car and glanced at my brother.
"My apartment," he said, preoccupied with the enormous back pack at his feet.
It didn't fit in the floorboard, so he tossed it into the backseat.
"What's in there?"
"Don't worry about it. You'll get your share."
Not saying a word, I stared at the road ahead. I didn't want his money, which technically speaking wasn't even his. Besides, no drug store had that much cash. The back pack had to be full of pills, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he had planned to do with them.
Viagra for himself and the rest he'll sell.
My eyes shifted to the rearview mirror. I saw the lights flashing a second before the siren woke up everybody in the neighborhood.
"To the right." He pointed to a small path barely wide enough for the car. "And turn off the lights."
Shit! If we go there, the police might not find us.
It took a moment for me to find the right switch, but soon the headlights stopped illuminating the black road in front of us. I braked slowly, hoping the officers would see the brake lights. Fifteen yards before the path, I pushed the lever up to activate the turn signal. The deep yellow lights reflected off the big store windows on our right, making quite a show in the darkness of the night.
"Are you an idiot?"
"Fuck, sorry." I turned off the blinker. "It was a reflex."
The police car was now closer, but not necessarily close enough for the officer to see us clearly. My brain was working furiously on how to ensure Jorge didn't realize what was going on. He was stupid as fuck, but this was too important to take any risk.
It was hard to see without the headlights, but I assumed the path was no on our right. I turned the steering wheel, which triggered the reaction I had expected.
"No," he groaned. "They saw the blinker and expect us to turn there."
"Okay, okay. Jesus!"
Half the car was already off the street. When I turned the car back, the front tires began to bog down in the soft ground. The engine roared as I hit the gas, but the car was moving slower and slower until we didn't move at all.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
I switched to reverse, but only heard the tires spinning in the slimy mud. The car was hopelessly stuck.
"You fucking idiot," he roared.
He was opening the door when the police car pulled in behind us and the officers came out.
"They have guns," I whispered. "What do we do?"
In the rearview mirror I saw an officer slowly walking toward us. The closer he got, the bigger he seemed. I stopped breathing and hoped my play wouldn't backfire big time. What if they shoot first and ask questions later?
I flinched when the mountain sized officer tapped on the window. The gun was pointed at me. My hand shook when I rolled the window down.
"Step out of the car," the officer said in a deep, gritty voice.
"Um, okay."
It took a moment for me to remember how to open the door. As calmly as I could, which wasn't calm at all, I stepped out and raised my hands up.
"You too."
The other officer pointed at Jorge with his flashlight.
"Sir, you need to help me," Jorge said. "I was alone and my shift was just ending when he came in and robbed the drug store. Then he forced me into his car."
I hardly understood what had happened before the officer shoved me against the car and handcuffed me, while reading me my rights. The other officer squeezed my arm and yanked me toward the police car. My legs were too shocked to move at first, but one sharp push between my elbows was enough for me to remember how to walk.
"He's lying," I said in disbelief. "He's lying, I swear."
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