Reaper's Property(9)By: Joanna Wylde
He punctuated the last four words with jabs of his pistol’s thick, round barrel into the back of Jeff’s neck.
“You got fifty grand on you?” Horse asked me, his voice cool and casual. I shook my head, feeling dizzy. Oh, shit, this was why Jeff had tried to get me to ask Gary for money… But fifty grand? Fifty grand? I couldn’t believe it.
“He stole fifty thousand dollars?”
“Yup,” Horse said. “And if it doesn’t get paid back right now, his options are limited.”
“I thought you were friends,” I whispered, looking from him to Jeff.
“You’re a sweet kid,” Picnic said. “But you don’t get who we are. There’s the club and everyone else, and this stupid fucker is not part of the club. You fuck with us, we will fuck you back. Harder. Always.”
Jeff’s mouth trembled and I saw tears well up in his eyes. Then he wet his pants, a dark stain spreading between his legs pitifully.
“Shit,” said the guy with the mohawk and skull tats. “I fucking hate it when they piss themselves.”
He looked down at Jeff and shook his head.
“You don’t see your sister pissing herself, do you? What a little bitch,” he said, disgusted.
“Are you going to kill us?” I asked Picnic, trying to think. I needed to make him see me as human, they said that on all the TV shows about serial killers. He had two girls, I’d even seen their pictures. I needed to remind him of his family, of the fact that he was human and not some kind of Reaper monster. “I mean, would you really kill people you shared pictures of your daughters with? One of them is about my age, isn’t she? Can’t we work something out? Maybe we can make payments or something.”
Horse snorted and shook his head.
“You don’t get it, sweetie, this isn’t just about money,” he said. “We could give a shit about the money. This is about respect and stealing from the club. We let this pissant fuck get away with it, they’ll all start doing it. We don’t let stuff like this slide. Ever. He pays with blood.”
I closed my eyes, feeling my own tears well up.
“Jeff, why?” I whispered, shivering.
“I wasn’t planning to lose it,” he replied, his voice cracked and hopeless. “I thought I could win it back, make it up somehow. Or that maybe I could hide it in the wire transfers…”
“Shut the fuck up,” Picnic said, smacking the side of his head with his free hand. “You don’t talk club business. Even when you’re about to die.”
I whimpered, feeling myself start to tremble.
“There’s another way,” Horse said to me, still casual. “Paying in blood can mean different things.”
“He doesn’t need to die for that to happen,” I said, thinking quickly. “Maybe you could burn down our trailer!”
I smiled at him encouragingly. Fuck the trailer, I wanted Jeff safe. And me. Oh shit, if they killed Jeff they’d have to kill me too.
I was a witness. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!
“Oh, we’re gonna do that no matter what,” he drawled. “But that’s not blood. I can think of something that is though.”
“What?” Jeff asked, his voice full of desperate hope. “I’ll do anything, I swear. If you give me a chance I’ll crack so many accounts for you, you won’t believe what we can accomplish. I’ll stop smoking, that’ll clear my head, I’ll do a better job…”
His voice trailed off as Horse laughed, and the mohawk guy shook his head and grinned at Picnic.
“You believe this asshole?” he asked. “Seriously, douche, you aren’t making a very good case for yourself, telling us just how much you been slacking.”
Jeff whimpered. I wanted to go to him, to hold him and comfort him, but I was too scared.
Horse stretched his neck, dipping his head to each side, and then cracked his knuckles like he was warming up for a fight. Kind of made me think of an episode of The Sopranos, which would have been funny as hell if I didn’t happen to know how that episode ended.
“Let’s get a couple of things clear,” Horse said after a pause that lasted approximately ten years. “We’re not going to hurt you, Marie.”