Page 3 of Pragma
Unfortunately, he keeps talking. “I do look better. Stop pointing out the obvious. Apollo went for you and failed; now it’s your turn to go for his jugular. My urge to help you simply comes from the infinite goodness of my heart.” He presses both his perfectly manicured hands over his heart in a melodramatic move.
My serious stare doesn’t waver as I don a fuck-off expression on my face.
He drops his arms down. “Alright, he tried to fuck with me, and now I’ll give back tenfold. The motherfucker doesn’t know who he’s up against.” He points at his back, where the bandages are. Did Apollo do that to him? “You’ll be fine with me. I can do whatever the fuck I want with a rich and powerful family to back me up.”
I glance at the two strapping men standing on the sidewalk and then slide my eyes over his designer clothes. His family must be fucking loaded. “No shit.”
“All the people I meet either want to use me or are scared shitless.” His statement reminds me of the bandages once again.
“Not me. I only want to hurt you a little…a lot,” I tell him, taking a last puff before chucking the cigarette butt in the ashtray. It gets in this time.
He smiles. Yep, he’s a damn loon.
“A little a lot. No one has ever been that adorably blunt with me, like a suicidal bunny. It’s…refreshing.”
Adorably! Bunny?“How about I refresh your face,” I groan, tired of this nonsense. My shitty life awaits. I need to get back before they send one of the hospital security guards after me.
“Use me. I have fire power and men that can help with my—your revenge.”
The light drizzle of rain didn’t turn into a cloudburst. Instead it’s slowly dying as thoughts keep firing inside my head.
“You can easily do it without me, since your family is so powerful and rich.”
“I can, but technically I’m going kind of solo here. My family doesn’t know about it and I want to keep it that way. I have enough men and with your intel it would be a piece of bloody, gory cake.”
I stare at him for a moment. Don’t really care about his life, but it seems too easy. “What’s the catch?”
“You have to follow my lead.” I see the red gum peeking at the corner of his big grin.
I scoff in reply.
“Is that a hard one to swallow? Let me put it this way, you look like a loner…a dead loner walking. Apollo has too many minions, and he knows you are coming. If he doesn’t kill you before you even form a plan to attack him, he will while you attempt it all by yourself. The fucker is shit, but crafty.”
“You seem to know him well.” Suspicion rises again inside my gut.
“We frequent the same circles when I’m in New York.” Meaning he’s part of a criminal organization. Another gang? Those men protecting him looked too slick and formal.
“So, you aren’t from these parts.”
“No. And Apollo prolonged my fucking stay. I should have been back in LA by now,” he lets out more information.
LA. That’s far…but far away enough?
“Hey, I’m aging here. I’m going to have some fun, do you want to be part of it?” He sounds bored and ready to leave. He rolls his gum between his fingers and then tosses it into the ashtray.
This guy is an unhinged, bloodthirsty wacko, and probably the only person who could help me take down Apollo. This decision could change the course of my life.
“What do you have to lose?” he asks nonchalantly, removing an invisible piece of lint from his shirt.
Lose? Apart from my life? I look down as the image of Joel’s smiling little face appears in front of my eyes. I haven’t seen my little brother since he moved to Boston a year ago. But he’s always in my head. I keep wondering if he’s eating well, sleeping, having problems at school. Does he need more money? I’ve been sending almost all of what I’ve earned in the last six months to Bailey, the old lady who took Joel to Boston. We text sometimes; my little brother doesn’t know about it. I asked her not to tell him. He would want to come stay here with me, and I can’t get him mixed up in my mess. I want him to have a better life. A good life.
“I have a condition,” I say suddenly.
He sighs, exasperated. “Spit it out.”
“Take me with you to LA after we take Apollo down.”
He doesn’t laugh or scoff. He just keeps staring at me. He’s short and skinny, but his gaze is filled with that type of confidence that one doesn’t gain growing up; it’s innate.
