Fair Trade

Just another day on the job. Last appointment before I clock out for the day, and my schedule has been pretty tight since it started. Seventeen pick pockets, adding up to about a couple hundred dollars of cold hard cash. I'd hit about three locations today so far, but I figured I’d finish up a little early today. I had a date tonight with that hot young lady I chatted with on Facebook last week. I needed to wash up, get a haircut, probably spruce up the apartment just in case the evening leads us back there for night caps. Plus it’s Friday! I am my own boss, I make my own hours. While I scope out the parking lot looking for my next victim, I think back on the almost three months until now. After I got out of lockup I honestly tried to take a straightened route, looking for legit jobs. Most turned me down because of my record, nobody wants a guy with an assault and battery charge. The rest were just low end jobs, too much labor and not enough money. So from there I decided to take on a position in theft. Pick pocketing mainly, sometimes a car raid, depending on the situation. I am trying to stay off the authorities radar, so eventually I’ll stop. I say that every month though. As I laugh to myself, my next client walks out of the grocery store. He's a small guy, fairly frail looking. He's also wearing glasses he keeps pushing back up on his face, an obvious pushover. I try to key in on individuals like this, who won't make a scene if they realize what I’m doing. He was definitely a good choice, easy money before I clock out. I watched him on his way in, looking for his wallet. H drove a soccer mom-ish van, dressed in slacks and a plaid button down. Probably some kind of IT guy, a teacher, maybe a wife and kid. He looked a bit jittery, hopped up on coffee to get him through the last half of the workday probably. Something about this guy was oddly familiar. I had that feeling again. That feeling I get when someone is loaded that I’m considering to target. I decided to follow him home, just to see his digs. If I do a little investigatory work I can figure out his daily schedule, knowing which days to get him. Maybe I'll even try my hand at a home invasion. But I told myself if it ever got to that point I would quit cold turkey and get on a straightened path. So that's it, if he's loaded I’ll take him and resign from this gig, and if not then I continue. Just for a bit longer at least, again what I jewo saying to myself. I inconspicuously follow him home, making sure not to follow too close. He arrived home around fifteen minutes later, not too far of a drive at all. I parked a little ways down the road at a gas station and scoped him out from afar. He hops out to grab his groceries, then trips and falls no more than two feet away from his car. Almost every item drops down on the ground and rolls in different directions. I chuckle a bit, what a clutz. He finally gathers himself and his things then walks into the house. I scan the he perimeter of his home. No signs of another car, no toys or play equipment, which prompts me to rule out a wife and kids. But to make sure I need a closer look. I waited a while, about 30 minutes roughly, so that he could settle in the house. I have to scout out the area quickly, keeping in mind my date tonight. At this point the sun is almost down, so this would be the best opportunity to be unseen when checking the house. I creep over, pretending as if I were going for a jog, then cooly made my way to a side window of the house facing away from the street. Slowly I edged up enough to see without alarming him inside. Inside I see a very nice living room set up, wood floors, and a fireplace. This must be the formal living room. Continuing to look around I see a bookshelf with about five or six levels full of books. What a surprise, a nerdy guy with a book fetish. I look down to check my watch. I definitely won’t have time to pay him a visit tonight, but my reconnaissance of the house has begun. First thing in the morning I’ll swing by and see when he leaves for work I think to myself. As I slowly turn around to start my creep back to the street I hear something in the bushes to my left. I look over and then it happens. WOP!!!! The sound and the force exerted on the right side of my face is all I can remember. A blinding flash of pain, and then nothing. I was knocked out cold.

I finally come to, disoriented and sore. Also pissed. As I’m opening my eyes they are watery and I can feel my face throbbing, all of which initially are distorting my view. I attempt to reach and grab my jaw but realize that I can’t move. My eyes are finally able to focus and see the surroundings. I am tied very tightly to a metal folding chair in the middle of a cold and dim room. There isn’t much in here, except the camera in the upper left corner on the wall. I see the little red light beaming down on me. The more I look around the more I struggle with the restraints holding me down. There are a million things rushing through my head. How long have I been out? Where am I? Did the police do this? Couldn’t have been the dorky frail guy who lives here. Dammit, I hope and pray the hottie from Facebook isn’t too mad with me about missing our date. Now I’m angry.

 “LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!! WHO DID THIS!?” I yell and scream at the top of my lungs.

The more I try to get free the tighter the ropes seem to get. Whoever tied these knew what they were doing. I continue to wiggle and move, so much so that I feel my arms getting sore. I look down to see blood seeping through the ropes. My rage is slowly but surely becoming fear. What in the world have I gotten myself into? Just then, I hear footsteps. Faintly at first, then more prominent and seemingly coming closer to my location. I direct my focus on the door, my abductor is finally going to reveal himself I think. I would love to see them and get my hands wrapped really REALLY tight around their throat. The steps grow closer, yet ominously slower and slower. It seemed as if I had to wait forever to see…..whoever it was. My heart is beating ridiculously fast, I don’t know what is about to happen next, but I do know that I don’t like what I’m feeling: Pure helplessness.    

The door slowly opens. I couldn’t believe my eyes…….it was the scrawny little prick who I was tailing. But he wasn’t as scrawny as he initially appeared. He was wearing a tank top tucked into his slacks and black wing tipped shoes. He was slim but had a very toned, athletic build. It was clear he worked out, but in his dorky, baggy button down from earlier this completely flew under the radar. No glasses this time, the only thing he had with him was a pocket knife. Wood grain handle, black blade. Looked like a German styled stiletto, I could immediately tell because I owned a few myself…….My heart began to beat a little faster. 

“I’ve been watching you my man, for some time now. Rick Garrett, age 26, numerous petty theft and shoplifting offenses. Went to prison for a year for an assault and battery, beating a store clerk who tried to resist. You got out about three months ago and it seems like you’re back to your old tricks.” 

His voice was loud and aggressive, and while he paced around me slowly and menacingly I snapped out of my confused gaze to speak. 

“Wh-what do you mean watching me? Who are y-” 

He stopped in his tracks right in front of me, bent down closer to my face. His breath smelled of whiskey…..I could use a drink right now myself. 

“I am no one to you. I have just been watching…...observing your victims. Who you tend to prey on, so that I could be your next victim.”

 He laughed loud and villainous, now pulling the knife from his hip. 

“I…...I wanted you to come here. To try and rob me. I figured since you tend to prey on the innocent, I would use myself as the bait! Reel you in…...And noooow, here we are.” 

He was definitely a crazy lunatic, or madly drunk. Perhaps both. Drool dripped from the side of his mouth while he talked, with a sort of angrily freakish smile on his face. My eyes locked in on him, and for some reason I again get the feeling that I knew this guy. 

“Do you remember Marcus Sanders??” Now it dawns on me. This guy, that store clerk I roughed up from last year. There was a resemblance. Shit……...I nodded. 

“You know, my father can barely hold his favorite coffee mug. Severe nerve damage, from you stomping on his hands. Since that day, he has been so paranoid. Took him forever to go back to the store. He has nightmares and can barely sleep. You took something from him that night.”

 He unfolds the knife he’s been holding. I shutter at the sound of it flying open. 

“Look man, I’m really REALLY sorry. It was a mistake, it wasn't my intention to hurt him or you. I paid my debt in lock up, and I’m just trying to get on my feet. Is there anything I can do to-” he cuts me off mid sentence, punching me hard in the gut. 

“I want you to shut up and listen!!” I cringe in pain. 

My eyes begin to water, while gasping loudly for air. I come to the realization that I’m not making it out of here in one piece. 

“You took something from my father that night!! Now…...I’m going to take something from you. Fair trade right??” 

As he raises the knife up to strike, I close my eyes tightly. I don’t want to see where the knife is headed. The only thing going through my mind was that I had definitely chosen the wrong house.