Page 67 of The Friend Scheme
The boy starts shouting, but I think he has a gag in, as he lets out only a muffled sound.
I would honestly give anything to be somewhere else right now.
“Are you ready?” asks Vince.
Everyone nods.
Vince goes up to the boy and pulls off the burlap sack. His face is covered in dried blood, and the skin around one of his eyes is purple and puffy. I was right before: He has a balled-up cloth in his mouth.
Holy shit.
I recognize him.
He’s one of Barbie Barker’s rent boys.
The one who checked me out on the night I met Jason.
What’s he doing here?
“Does anyone recognize this man?” asks Vince. He puts his hands on the guy’s shoulders and scans the crowd.
I look into the guy’s eyes. They’re wide with fear.
They find mine. A flicker of recognition.
Crap.
Nobody says anything. And I’m not about to admit that I recognize him. He’s a gay sex worker. If I point out that I know him, people will ask questions. More than that, though, I don’t want anything to do with what’s going on right now.
I can’t help him.
I want to, but there’s nothing I can do.
I look into his eyes, and at least try to convey that I’m sorry. I hope he gets it. I hope he knows that if I had my way, this wouldn’t be happening to him. That I hate this stupid war and the way that my family can do this to someone.
“He used to work for Barbie,” says Vince, then he slaps his face.
The boy growls, baring his teeth.
“But that wasn’t why he came to the bar.”
“Who is he?” asks Luke.
“I could tell you myself, but I think it’d be best to hear this from him.”
Vince reaches down and pulls out the gag.
“HELP!” shouts the guy, but his voice is hoarse. I don’t think it carries very far. “SOMEONE HELP ME!”
Silence answers him.
He changes tack.
He looks at me.
“Please, help me. One of you must have a heart. Please. I have a family. My mom, I’m her favorite. You can’t let him kill me, I—”
“Quiet,” says Vince. He presses the flat of his blade against the guy’s throat. He falls silent.
