The Easy Way Out

32

Awakened by loud voices from the adjoining room, Blake discovered that he was bound to a metal chair in a vacant garage. He heard thunder but it wasn't until he blinked away the blood that pooled in his eye that he realized that the storm was raging inside his head. His face was bruised and gashed, only one eye capable of opening. He glanced up into a cold hard light that forced him to drop his head. Probing his gum line, his tongue found loose teeth but thankfully, none were missing.

He shuddered when he recognized Uncle Geo's voice leaking from beneath a steel door about fifteen feet away. Or maybe one hundred feet away. He couldn't be sure. But that voice. He was sure of that terrifying voice. He struggled to free himself to no avail.

Geo said, "Last week I go down to Holy Trinity to pick up my grandson, and the kid says "Popooh, how come the Black people don't hear as good as us?" And so I ask the kid where he gets an idea like that. He says, "They play their music so loud, and when you see the mavro's downtown, they're always shouting across the street at each other."

He cackled, a chorus of male laughter joined in.

Blake flinched when the door opened, the taste of blood on his lips. Alex, Gizmo, and Geo closed in. The old man held something against his thigh that Blake couldn't identify.

"Wake him up," said the old man.

Blake raised his swollen face but that didn't prevent a hard slap from Alex that turned his head.

"Look at that hair," Geo scoffed. "You look like a goddamn pussy."

Blake felt like he was sinking, icy fear pooling around him, drenching him, swallowing him whole.

"Where's the fuckin' girl? And where's my money?" He bit off his words with such malevolence that Blake believed he would surely die in that chair.

"It's... " He struggled to put words together coherently. "Back in Pittsburgh." Blake spat a mouthful of blood. Their faces seemed closer now.

The old man yanked a fistful of Blake's hair, forcing his face upward. "Don't insult me. Nobody would go to all this trouble to steal my money and then leave it behind. You got somebody else in on this? That colored kid?"

"No. No. Nobody else."

"Smartest thing you can do now is tell me where my money is."

Blake winced. "I'll take you there."

Geo stared him down, rage filling his eyes. "You lied to me. Why should I believe you now?"

"I promise. Just leave her alone." His legs shook with fear. "I'll give you the money."

The old man raised a pair of vice grips. "I ought to yank that lying tongue of yours right outta your head." His gray eyes lit at the thought of committing the grotesque act.

Blake recoiled, his one eye wide. "Please don't."

The old man released his grip on Blake's hair and let out a deep sigh while clasping his hands behind his back. "Back in 2007, maybe 2008, before I put Pat and Karas on collections, I come to find out I got a man skimming my money. His body washed up somewhere down the Allegheny River, under some bridge. When they fished him out, he didn't have no hands." He shrugged. "Probably why he drowned."

Blake looked away.

"It was in all the papers on the TV news and everything. People are still talking about it. And you know, since then not one single penny has gone missing. Not one. You know why that is? It's what them eggheads call a... what's it called?" He found the term tucked away in his brain. "A teachable moment. You ever heard that?"