Throwdown, or little guns (Part 12)

September 20, 2013 § 20 Comments

“We can take my car,” said Clementine. “Can you put your bike in the trunk?”

“I dunno,” said Turner. “We can try.” They went over to her car, a brand new BMW 325i. “Fancy,” he said.

“It’s my roommate’s car. Here,” she handed him the keys. “You drive.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“How come?”

“My writs hurts like hell, especially when I shift.”

Turner slid behind the wheel. “Let’s go to the frat house first instead of my place. It’s closer.”

Clementine  lit a cigarette. “Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Does my smoking bother you?”

“Actually, yes.”

She blew a long stream of smoke in his face and smiled. “Good.”

After a few minutes they reached West Campus. “Why don’t you park around the corner?” she suggested.

Turner shrugged. “Okay.”

“What are you gonna tell ‘em?” She was excited and smiling.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“You’re such a cowboy tough guy,” she said. “You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you?”

“What?”

“They’re gonna kick your fucking ass. I guy I used to fuck was a repo man. He was a complete badass and he still got his ass whipped every now and then. You know what his first rule was?”

“What?”

“Don’t ever repo when they have friends or family around. They’ll gang up on you and smash your face. And he used to repo with a sawed-off and a baseball bat.”

He looked at her and swallowed. Now he was even more scared. “I ain’t scared.”

“No,” she agreed. “You’re completely terrified.”

Turner walked up the pathway to the entrance of the huge frat house. It was the biggest one at UT, and as he walked in the front door and entered the massive living room he realized that the guys were big, too.

Galen was sitting in the big leather couch holding the remote. He looked over at Turner and nodded. Three other guys were sitting on the couch, and a couple of others were in padded lounge chairs. “What’s up?”

“I came to get that girl’s money.”

Galen’s face went blank. “What?”

“The girl’s money from last night. I came to get it for her.”

The next thing Turner knew, he was flying across the room. He hit a table with his back, flipped over it, and crumpled in a heap. Galen was on him and before the other guys could pull him away he’d landed a kick to Turner’s head and to his kidney. His mouth filled with blood and the pain in his side was so sharp he couldn’t breathe.

If the brothers hadn’t held tightly onto Galen, he would have killed Turner. “Get out of this fucking house you motherfucker!” Galen was screaming.

A very big dude appeared, even bigger than Galen. “What the hell is going on?” Everyone stopped. It was John Powers, the president of the frat.

“This little fucker came in here and threatened me, that’s what,” yelled Galen.

Turner spit out a mouthful of blood and stood up. The pain in his back and side was so bad he gasped. “I want the money,” he said.

Galen lunged again, but they pulled him back. “I don’t owe you anything motherfucker!”

“What money?” asked Powers.

“From last night.” Turner said. “He ripped off the girl that was at the frat party.”

“Girl? What girl?”

“The whore!” yelled Galen. “He’s the cunt whore’s pimp!”

“You a pimp?” Powers said, dubiously.

“No. I was at the party. And he ripped her off.”

“Wait a minute,” said Powers. The rest of the guys crowded around.

“You came to our party, drank our beer, watched our strippers, fucked our whores, and are now coming back to get money from one of our brothers?”

“I didn’t drink your beer or fuck your whores. He ripped her off. I ran into her this morning. She’s got a broken wrist because your buddy threw her out of the fucking pickup in the middle of the night. She could’ve been killed.”

Powers looked at Galen. “Really?”

“Lying little cock, I did not.”

“I’m here to help you fuckers out. She wants to file a police report and charge you with attempted murder, then sue you for her medical bills. That’s gonna make a great story, isn’t it? ‘Frat hooker sues Galen Asshat for assault after rush party goes awry.'”

Powers got serious. He was a graduating senior. “What do you want?”

“I want the girl’s money back.”

Powers looked at Galen. “You have her money?”

Galen nodded. “Go get it,” said Powers. “You don’t want this in the Daily Texan, and neither do I.” Powers turned back to Turner. “But we’re not giving it to you. She’ll have to come get it herself.”

“Okay.” He limped out the door. And then, long before it was popular, he said, “I’ll be back.”

§ 20 Responses to Throwdown, or little guns (Part 12)

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