Break Free & Be Broken (19 page)

The edge in his voice dropped significantly in his question toward me, but his gaze is as intense as ever. I don't know how to answer. I just shrug.

"Turn around."

I stare.

"Turn. Around."

The edge is back. I immediately comply.

"Good god, uncuff his fuckin wrists. How many times do I have to tell you, we don't need unnecessary displays of power."

Joe uncuffs me in what must be record time. It actually hurts when the blood starts flowing back into my hands. My wrists are completely raw where the cuffs held me. I want to rub them but they sting like hell.

"Thank you." I say.

The giant nods. "Joe, get the fuck out of here. You aren't getting paid for this." Joe rushes from the room, undoubtedly happier to be leaving than disappointed about losing pay.

"Roger, stand in the corner." Piggy number two does as commanded.

"Boyo! Come. Have a seat." He tilts his head toward the place next to him. "You hungry?"

I nod as I hustle to take my seat.

"Good. I was just about to have dinner myself. You came at a good time." He bangs his hand against the table hard enough for me to feel it in my feet. The back door to the room opens soon after, and a stunning young woman walks in wearing a white button up shirt, black skirt, and black tights. Her blonde hair is pulled up in a bun, and she's carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. She lays one in front of me and the other in front of my host. After filling our cups, she places the bottle on the table and leaves.

More people follow in after, some carrying plates and utensils, some carrying platters of food. In a matter of seconds, a whole feast is laid out before us. Meats, vegetables, fruit-everything one could ask for. It seems like beyond an excessive amount, but when I watch the giant start grabbing heaps of food from the platters and piling it onto his plate, I realize the amount is adequate at best.

He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. Everything he eats he does with his hands, and he eats at an inhuman pace, as if he hadn't eaten in years. Grease drips down his wrists to his elbows and fills his beard. His clothes quickly become spattered with wine, sauces, and grease, but he doesn't seem to care in the least. He devours his entire plate before I even put anything on mine. He begins filling his plate a second time and stops. "You said you were hungry." It isn't a statement, it's an order.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"For what?"

"Oh, um..."

"Don't say sorry unless you really fuck up. Makes you look weak."

"Of course. Sorry." I bite my tongue. He gives me a serious look, then breaks into a laugh. The sound is surprisingly soothing.

"Better, better. Now eat up."

I start to pick up my fork but decide to hell with it. If what they say is true, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I'd like to be on this man’s good side, so I dive in with my hands. The food is delicious, and soon I find myself eating at a pace that nearly matches his... well, comparative to size. I hope for an approving look or smile, but none come. He is too consumed in wolfing down his second plate.

When he's almost done, he finally slows enough to speak. "So, what's your name?"

I take a moment to swallow the mouthful I was working on before answering. "I'm Chales. Chales Anthon."

"Good to meet you, Chales. My name is Juxtapo Schultz. You may call me Jux. If you're ill at ease, don't be. All we're gunna do tonight is talk. It will be very simple. You have a story: I want to hear it. Tell it right and you've got nothing to fear. Who knows, we may even become friends, aye?" He laughs as he delivers the final line-not a sarcastic laugh-but the light, happy laugh of a man in good spirits. So infectious is the sound that I can't help but chuckle a bit myself.

"I'd like that a helluva lot more than the things I was expecting."

He waves a hand, rending a strip of chicken with his teeth as he does so. "Forget your expectations. I'm not gunna hack off your hands and throw you into a pit or anything like that. Finish eating, then we'll begin."

With that, he forgets about me and gets back to subsuming his food. I do the same, trying to match his pace. I don’t want him to have to wait for me when he's done. Once complete, he drains his wine glass and fixes me with an inquisitive stare.

"Before we delve into the subject of what brought you to my table, I'd like to know more about you. Who is Chales Anthon?"

What? Who am I? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean precisely what I say. I can tell just by looking at you that you're no hardened criminal-you're too innocent-and yet, there is a certain madness in your eyes. You seem to be desperate while at the same time not giving a fuck. You intrigue me, and I'd like to know more about who you are."

I stare at him, no idea what to say. "I'm sorry this is so hard for me to understand, but I'm still not sure what you're asking."

He laughs, though I can tell his patience is fraying. "Just tell me about yourself! Think of this as a date and impress me with your exploits!"

Still not sure what he wants to hear but too scared to ask for further clarification, I just start talking. There isn't much to me, so I basically just tell him how I live my days. His eyes never leave me-he is totally riveted-so I even talk a bit about my views of the world and all the troubles they’ve brought me. His focus stays glued to me all throughout. To have someone show interest in what I always considered a woefully boring and pathetic life makes me feel great, and I end up telling him just about everything about myself, from past to present.

When I finish my rant, he sits back and smiles at me. "My goodness, you are something. The thing I respect in this world above all else is discipline, and in that domain you sound like a master. I would have many, many uses for a man such as you in my organization."

I'm stunned by his words: stunned and elated. This could be my ticket... my ticket to the new life I’ve so hungrily sought! "Really?" I ask, voice overflowing with expectation.

He nods. "Oh yes. Discipline is the foundation on which all success is built, and not nearly enough people recognize its worth these days. The fact you do makes you very, very valuable. Perhaps up to this point, you've been a little misguided, so it hasn't brought you all the rewards it could, but under my guidance you could really become something."

The words almost make me tear up. This man is scraping off the years of grimy hate I buried myself in and reopening the pathway up the mountain.

He seems to read my thoughts and holds up a hand to halt them. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, though. You still need to tell me how it is you got caught up in all this."

"Oh, of course. It's really just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time." I start. "Earlier tonight, I was just finishing a hike when-"

"Why were you out hiking at night?" He asks.

Damn. So this is a man who leaves no stone unturned. I didn't want to admit I almost killed myself and didn't think it was relevant, but I suppose since he was interested in my day to day life, I should have known he was too shrewd to let any detail pass, no matter how insignificant I deem it to be.

I go back to the very beginning of the day and tell him everything: the whole fucked up tale from morning to night... except I never mention Jade, and I refer to Sage only as the stranger. I don't think I'm betraying them by telling Jux the story-they certainly never said anything about a guy named Juxtapo Schultz-but they are still my friends, and I want to play it safe.

He listens without making a sound until I mention El Sanchez. "El Sanchez? Why did the stranger think Quinton knew where to find him?"

I shrug. "He never said."

Juxtapo sighs, an inky look settling over him. "I wonder if Quinton does know... and you say the stranger wanted to kill him?"

"That's what he said."

"Huh. I almost wish that situation could have played out. I would love to see El Sanchez's head on a pole. I'll have to talk to Quinton..." He stares off at nothing for a moment, then looks back to me. "Anyway, continue."

"That's about it. I took the money to Quinton but never got to ask about El Sanchez. He flipped out when he saw the duffle bag and sicced his guys on me. I fought the bastards and managed to escape, but then when I was running, this tit-head and his partner rolled up," I nod toward Roger, still standing in the corner, "and since I thought they were cops, I let them get close enough to apprehend me, and now I'm here."

Jux stares at me for a moment, then bursts into belly laugh-this one the merriest by far. Maybe it’s the food, maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s just his laugh, but I laugh with him. We laugh for a good, long time. I get so swept up in it I forget the danger of my situation. I feel good. I feel like things are finally going right. It's excellent. It's wonderful. Jux was so delighted by my tale he is actually wiping tears from his eyes, dabbing at them in the most delicate manner with a handkerchief.

"Chales, my boy! That is a truly fantastic story. I like you. I like you a lot. I could definitely use a man like you around here. Under me, in no time at all you'll have your very own duffle bags full of money." He wipes his hands and throws his handkerchief on the table. "So what do you say, you ready to make this life your own?"

My smile stretches to the back of my neck. What a turn around this night has taken! Jux may be some kind of criminal overlord, but what a great guy! And besides, at this point, I'm willing to do just about anything. I feel like I'm seeing clearly for the first time. Everything that's happened tonight has been moving me toward this opportunity. I'm sick of letting the world dictate how I live! I'm ready to live from the inside and expand out! It's my turn to project on the world. It will no longer project on me!

"I would love to work for you. I'm not sure what ways I can be useful, and I gotta tell you now there are some things I may not be ready to do, but if you're willing to work with me I think we can definitely, definitely!- make this happen."

"Ah ha ha! That's what I like to hear! There are just a few discrepancies with your story we need to straighten out, and then we can set you up with a room and let you get some rest. You've had quite the night."

My heart becomes a rock and sinks through the soft goo of my insides. "Discrepancies? What do you mean?"

"Well, first off, why do you think the stranger wanted to set you up?"

"Set me up?"

"Yes. He robbed Quinton's deal-or more precisely: my deal-and then sent you to return the money. Why do you think he did that? Sounds like he was using you as a dupe to me."

I thought my heart was a rock before, but no, now it's a rock-heavy enough to sink all the way to my feet. I hadn't even thought of that. And worse, it was Jade who asked me to do it. Would she really have used me like that?

I think of how awkward the car ride was and how they both wished me such a fond farewell...

"I have no idea... it makes no sense." It really doesn't. What could they have gained by doing this to me?

I think Jux recognizes the truth in my words from the sadness on my face, cause he doesn't press the issue. Rather, he just agrees. "No. It doesn't." He shakes his head. "That isn't really important though-more curious than anything. What I'd really like to know is why you're withholding information from me."

His voice is low and menacing. All the merriness is gone. He is now a cold shadow of who he was just moments ago.

"What do you mean." I ask in a flat tone that fails to hide my dismay.

"You didn't tell me everything, Chales."

"I did." My voice is almost a whine. I gotta get it together.

Jux shakes his head and rests it against his fingers.

"Come now, young Anthon. We've been talking for a good long time. You think during the course of the conversation I haven't been able to pick up on your mannerisms? I know you haven't told me everything. At least tell me the stranger’s name."

My heart sinks from my feet and into the floor. Is that why he was asking me about my life? Just to learn how I speak? I thought he was really interested... it hurts to think he wasn't.

"His name?" I mutter at last.

Jux's brow settles down into a scowl. I've lost his good favor. I would suck a thousand fuzzy dicks to get it back.

"Yes. His name."

"I don't think he ever told me."

"You expect me to believe you and that man went through all that you did and you never got his name?"

"I wasn't really planning on making friends with the person who kidnapped me. I never thought to ask."

Jux releases a long, drawn out breath and rubs his forehead
.
"BULLSHIT!" He screams, slamming his hand against the table.

I jump right along with the plates, glasses, and silverware. The bottle of wine tips over, spilling its deep maroon contents across the table. Not long after, the gorgeous waitress, or servant, or whatever she is, comes gliding back in with more wine, apparently thinking she'd been summoned. She refills our cups, then reaches across the table to retrieve the spilled bottle. As she bends over the table to pick it up, my eyes can't help but take a full helping of her exceptional shape. When I look up, I see that Jux's eyes are on me. Embarrassed, I quickly look away, but he was just smiling. It wasn't a warm, friendly smile, however. It was cold: cold enough to frost the tips of my lashes.