Lie 'Till It's Real: Chapter Two

The druggie’s (or Isaiah, he should say) car was unsurprisingly dirty and full of old wrapping paper, cigarette butts, and a few scattered bottles of liquor. A Switch lay on the floor, depressingly out of power. What games would a moron like that even play? Probably Mario Party or some game with shiny bright colors. Those did appease and strike awe in the hearts of those intoxicated and faded. The car started up without issue, and he bumped the chair up a bit so he could drive comfortably. He wasn’t short, standing at just shy of six feet, but Isaiah was probably five or six inches taller than him. Some people had all the luck. He put the car in “Drive” and drove it around, cruising through the parking lot. The neon lights from store signs mingled with the headlights of cars and penetrated the evening gloom. The light from a few of the lamplights around helped as well, and he parked the car just as the man asked.

He hopped out, the druggie stretching out the window, giving him a thumbs-up. “Nice, man. Just leave the keys in there and we’re straight.”

“Aight,” said Luke, turning the car off but leaving the keys in the ignition.

“Hey, you didn’t see like…any like, uhm, like Hispanic people or nothin’ right? Like no one else came in?”

“No, no one else,” he replied hesitantly. That was really not what he wanted to hear. “Why?”

“No reason—I’m not racist or anything. I dated a Mexican chick once. And I love tacos.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, walking towards the back entrance. His phone rang, and he picked it up as he walked back into the hotel, the screen reading “Boss”. It was Gene. What now?

“Hey Gene,” he said, putting the phone to his ear, “What’s up?”

“Luke,” the man said, the tone of his voice raising his hackles, “I need you to do something important for me. A few men are going to come by later on tonight. Jesus, Muriel usually handles this—you understand? I forgot, or else I would’ve come in instead. Look, it’s nothing too difficult. They’ll come in and ask you if Room 316 is ready. Just say yes, but do not clear the room in the system. Keep it at condemned.”

“What? The fuck Gene, what-”

“Just do what I say!” the man said, almost yelling, and Luke went silent. “If you just listen, everything will be fine. Don’t pull any of your cute shit with them, Luke. These are not the type of people you fuck around with. Good-bye,” he said, and the call ended.

“Fuck me,” he said under his breath, walking back to the front desk. He had a good idea of what was going on, but he couldn’t believe it. His mind raced at the possibilities of what was to come. He needed to be prepared. Rosie was at the desk, dressed in casual attire and looking at her phone. She looked up as he neared and instantly picked up on his frazzled state.

“Luke, you don’t look good. What’s going on?” She reached out a hand, gently feeling his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Rosie,” he said, sweat trickling into his eye. When did he start sweating?

“You’re worrying me, Luke. I’ve never seen you like this, ever. You want me to stick around tonight? I can-”

“No!” he said, startling her, “No. Please, just go Rosie. Please.”

He put as much warning in his eyes as he could manage. He prayed that she would listen.

“Ok, Luke. I’ll go. I’m gonna call you every hour until midnight, though, and if you don’t answer your phone I’m coming back. Deal?” she said, sticking out her hand.

“Deal,” he said, relieved, shaking her hand. It was warm and soft, and he caught a whiff of that berry lavender shit she always used. God, he missed her so much. He nodded towards the door, “Now get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” she said, turning around and walking out the lobby. A car pulled up to the canopy, jet-black with the windows tinted. She glanced back at Luke with a frown, and the doors of the car opened, tall Hispanic men in suits exiting the vehicle. His stomach dropped as she stood watching them, glued to the spot, and they entered the hotel, closing the door behind themselves and locking it, Rosie watching quietly.

One of the men said something to her in Spanish, and she seemed about to argue, but she closed her mouth and let him lead her to one of the chairs in the lobby, and she sat down, the man standing by her, arms crossed as he guarded her. Two other men spread out across the lobby, guns clearly visible in their pockets. The last man, a handsome, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair in a gray suit strode leisurely to the counter He smiled at Luke as he leaned over it.

“Muriel, you look different today,” he said, stretching a hand towards his shirt. Luke stepped back, grabbing his name-tag.

“It’s usually polite to ask someone their name. Can I help you, sir?” He couldn’t look weak, not for a second. These men preyed on even a moment’s hesitation.

He wasn’t gonna give them a fucking nano-second.

The man didn’t move, tilting his head and chuckling softly, “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“No, I just work during the day, but Muriel was sick. Luke’s my name, thanks for asking. Your room’s ready—Gene told me to expect you.”

“Ok, ok,” the man said, raising his hands in surrender, “So cold, Senor Luke. We’ll be on our way, then.” He took his elbows off the counter and stood up, dusting himself off. There was a fine white sparkle on his sleeve, however, and he glanced at it for a moment, mumbling something in irritation, then went quiet. He took a single finger and licked it, then wiped it across his arm, bringing the substance to his mouth and tasting it. His eyes shifted in an instant from friendly and care-free to predatory and ice-cold. He pulled out a gun from his side, a 9mm, and pointed it very close to Luke’s forehead.

“This is my product, Senor Luke,” he said calmly. “But the strange thing is that we don’t sell here. You know what is interesting? When we were driving here, I swore I saw a red Civic in the back parking lot. I have a friend that I have been searching for all day that drives a car very much like that. Have you seen him?” He pulled the safety back on the gun, touching the barrel to Luke’s skin.

“I have. I can take you to him, even,” he said, replying without delay. They had already decided to kill him. He had maybe five minutes to convince them that it wasn’t in their best interest to do so.

The man nodded, “Smart decision, my boy,” he said, gently slapping Luke’s cheek with the pistol. “Now, about the girl,” he said, sighing. “Jorge,” he said, his voice taking a different tone, and the goon pulled his gun out, cocking it as he put it to Rosie’s head.

“No! You don’t want to do that, not if you want to catch that fucking drug addict,” said Luke, and the leader glanced at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh, and how is that?”

He held up his phone, the screen lit and displaying one message, “Run.” All he would have to do is move his finger and it would send. “His car is right outside his window. I send this and you’re gonna be looking for him for a long time.“ It was a lie. Totally. He didn’t even have the guy’s number. All it would take is his calling the bluff, and they were fucked. He had prepped it though, just in case.

The man’s eyes flared in anger for a single moment then returned back to that icy calm. “Now why would you do that when we’re all such close friends, Luke,” he said, waving his right hand, the goon lowering the gun from Rosie’s head. For her part, she didn’t break down crying. In fact, she seemed more worried for him than for herself. “Put the phone down and take us to him, and she’ll be safe, you have my word.”

“Fuck that,” he said, keeping the phone bared and pointed towards them like a gun, “He’s in Room 203. I’ll go with you, but you’re going in front of me. You’re not taking me out from behind.”

“And why wouldn’t we just kill you now that we know what room he’s in?” the man said, crossing his arms, giving him an amused smile.

“’Cause my memory is a little hazy, and maybe it was 303, or 103, or 233 or 333 or 113. And I swear to God I will make sure the last thing I ever do is make sure this message gets sent. He’ll have a lead on you no matter what.”

“Ok. You win, mi amigo,” he said, moving past him and turning the corner, the other men following him. Rosie stood up and walked over to him, clutching his arm for dear life. They followed the cartel men, who took their time climbing the steps.

“Luke, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” she asked, clearly believing otherwise.

“I got something. Look…whatever happens, just remember that I love you, Rosie,” he said, and she shook her head violently.

“Fuck you, Luke. Don’t do that to me. You better not die, or I swear to God-”

“You’ll kill me?” he said, giving her a smile.

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, though she shifted her body closer to him.

“Rosie,” he said in a low voice, and she glanced at him briefly before keeping her head straight ahead as they climbed the stairs. “When I make my move, you make yours. Same as mine. Don’t hesitate.”

They arrived at Isaiah’s room, the whole party squeezed in a line in the small hallway. The leader motioned him over, nodding towards the door. Luke walked past the men, who made no effort to move out of his way. Pieces of shit.

He banged on the door and said, “Hey, uh, Isaiah? Whatever your name is, you there?” He turned and looked at the men, who stood waiting patiently, expectantly. He was going to need to be quick.

“You again? The fuck you want, man? I’m watching Shrek.”

“I’m coming in, just need to tidy up the bathroom. It’ll be two seconds, promise.”

“Yeah yeah, sure.”

He put his card to the scanner, and it beeped, then he put all his strength into pulling the door open, slamming it into their leader, grabbing his gun as the man caught the door. He took aim and shot two of the men in the forehead, the men crumpling on top of each other and Rosie grabbed one of the dead goon’s guns and pointed it at the remaining goon. Isaiah started to jump out the window, but Luke whirled and shot him in the leg, the druggie falling to the ground, screaming in agony.

The leader was furious, but he said nothing, staring daggers at Luke. Rosie held the gun, looking between Luke and the last man. He had no choice. He took aim, killing the last man, then keeping it trained on the final cartel member. Rosie dropped to the floor, vomiting, panting hard. He couldn’t stop. The guests were probably calling the cops if they hadn’t already. He walked over and picked the leader up, dragging him in the room. He shoved him on the bed, Isaiah still crying and moaning in pain.

“Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he said, mind racing. “I’ve committed three counts of murder. My life is fucked. I need your help, and you don’t want to die. Your little rat,” he said, pointing the gun, “is right there. Your drugs or whatever the fuck you were supposed to pick up is still in that room. Way I see it, you need me right now much as I need you. When we’re done, I want to work for you. Under you, for you, whatever. Doesn’t matter. You’ve seen me. You know I won’t hesitate. You can’t afford not to hire me.”

The man bore it all in silence, his eyes considering the proposition as Luke neared the end. “And the girl,” he said, “Either she works, or she dies.” “And the girl,” he said, nodding. Fuck. He’d have to figure out something later for that, but right now he couldn’t show doubt.

“Alright. We have a deal, Senor Luke,” the man said, grinning wide, “As part of your inaugural celebration, I need you to silence this one,” he said nodding at Isaiah.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” said Isaiah, trying to sit up but failing, “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! Please, man, I can get you anything, I promise you,” he finished, snot and tears running down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, putting the gun to the man’s head, “It’s you or me. And I choose me.”

He pulled the trigger.