Run This Town 04 - (Watch Me) Save You Page 4

  Tek stared at him for the longest time. Silent, controlled. To Quinn he appeared untouchable, hard to ruffle.

  “I can listen,” Tek said softly. “If you want to talk about why you were screaming bloody murder in your sleep.”

  “Why would I do that?” Quinn frowned. “I don’t know you.” He grimaced at his harsh, ungrateful tone, but continued. “What I do in the confines of my home is none of your business, whoever you are.”

  Tek’s mouth twisted. “You and Israel are friends, right?”

  Quinn shrugged. “We’re not as close as we once were, but yes.”

  “Does he know about—” Tek waved a hand.

  “That is my business.” Quinn struggled to his feet even though they felt like wet noodles. “My business,” he said again. “If you can’t respect my privacy, Tek—” He put emphasis on the name. “You can leave now.” And what kind of name was that, anyway?

  His houseguest threw both hands in the air. “He won’t hear it from me, and you’re right. Your business.” He glanced down at the door. “I can fix that if you’ve got the tools.”

  Quinn directed him to the closet downstairs where he kept that shit, and when Tek left the room, he jumped to his feet and grabbed the gun from the bed, shoving it into the top draw in his nightstand.

  This is why he didn’t let people into his house. Why he didn’t let anyone near him anymore.

  He was too fucked up. And now, a stranger had witnessed his meltdown.

  Shame bowed his shoulders and he walked out the bedroom before Tek came back, hiding out in the laundry room. On the floor, he knocked his head against the wall, fingers pinching at his thighs and upper arms as he listened to the drill and hammer upstairs.

  ****

  His host hardly came out of his room. Tek stared at his phone as he sat in his room, the TV on mute. The evening news talked about house fires and robberies, nothing about Paco Nunez’s body being found. Tek didn’t expect it to be, but he still kept his ears and eyes open.

  Lots of things required his attention. The phone calls from his mother were getting more and more frequent. Call him a coward, but he couldn’t deal with her right then. He had to see his father, try to get the old man to see reason. To change his mind. Again, he didn’t want to deal with it.

  Years he’d known the day would come when he’d have to step up and do what needed to be done, but he still fought it. Would continue to fight it. He didn’t see a way to get away from it. Even the deal he’d made with Stavros couldn’t absolve him of his responsibilities. All Stavros had done was hold it off for a few years.

  All the things on his plate, and Tek worried about the slight man who’d locked himself away mere feet from Tek’s bedroom. Tek didn’t have to ask around to know that Quinn had been through some shit. The screams were all too familiar. The shame in his eyes, his anger at anyone else witnessing his weakness. Way too familiar. He’d wondered why Israel hadn’t given Tek a heads-up about what he’d be walking into, until Quinn let him know that Is had no clue.

  Suffer in silence.

  Tek knew all about that, didn’t he? What happened to Quinn wasn’t his business, though. The other man had let him know that explicitly. It wasn’t Tek’s concern, so he shrugged it off. The time had come to face his own shit, so he placed a call to an acquaintance.

  “Yo.”

  “Joe, what up? It’s Tek.”

  “Tek, my man.” Joe’s voice rose when he got excited. “You ’round my way?”

  “’Bout to be.” He couldn’t let anyone know his business. “You at that spot?”

  “Fo’ sure. What you need?”

  Tek salivated. “What you got?”

  Joe snorted. “Got what you need, son.”

  Precisely what Tek liked to hear. He licked his lips, anticipation already electrifying his spine. “One hour.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Tek ended the call and grabbed his leather jacket from where he’d tossed it on the bed. He shoved his Beretta in his waistband and walked out. In front of Quinn’s bedroom, he paused and knocked. No answer.

  “Quinn.” After a series of knocks with no response he spoke to the locked door. “Um… I’m heading out for a bit. Thought you should know.” He couldn’t say when he’d be back. He never knew when he’d shake loose from what he was about to do.

  When he got nothing from Quinn, he sighed and left the house. The way the other man had screamed last night. Tek had been jerked out of his sleep, scrambling for his gun before his brain caught up enough to make sense of where he was and what he was hearing.

  He didn’t want to know what tormented Quinn so much that he couldn’t even sleep.

  Not my business.

  On Buford Highway, just off I-285 in Doraville, a simple white two story building with a large yellow sign advertised authentic Chinese produce. That Chinese market was nestled between an interstate bus service and a small center offering free Mandarin lessons.

  Tek pulled into the bus service’s parking lot and sat there for a second, preparing, bracing himself for what waited for him. He made a dozen trips to Atlanta a month, maybe more, even rented a house in Decatur, but he made sure he didn’t wander over to this side of I-285. He couldn’t stay away much longer, though.

  He blew out a breath and nodded to himself once before getting out. Facing the busy street, he flicked his gaze left then right, taking a thorough inventory of his surroundings.

  “Tek.”

  He spun, blanking his features. The man who approached him with a wide smile and a hand held out in welcome wasn’t his enemy, but Tek couldn’t help seeing him as such.

  “Jonny.” He clasped the offered hand in a short, tight grip.

  “Fuck you been, stranger?” Jonny Yun grinned at him before yanking Tek into a loose embrace.

  “Been around, Jonny.” Tek slapped the other man on the back then stepped away. He jerked his chin in the direction of the Chinese market. “He in?”

  “Yeah, man.” Jonny started walking, and Tek followed. “He’s waiting for you.” He checked his watch. “You’re ten minutes late.”

  And they knew how his lateness would be received. Tek shrugged. The tardiness was a deliberate but silent protest on his part.

  Jonny opened the market door and waved Tek in. The scent was overwhelmingly familiar, immediately taking Tek back to the days he never volunteered to revisit.

  “He’s in his office.” Jonny pointed to the closed door with a taped sign proclaiming Employees Only Beyond This Point.

  “Thanks, Jonny.”

  “Anytime, man.” Jonny shook his hand again, his grin never faltering. Every time Tek saw the dude, he was smiling. Working for who he did, how in the fuck did Jonny even manage that shit?

  Tek lifted the right corner of his mouth in what he hoped resembled a smile before walking toward that door. He had the sensation of walking toward the gallows, an empty pit in his stomach not unlike the walk he’d taken down the corridors of Rikers Island that first day.

  He’d known, when he’d shuffled down that echoing silent corridor, chains around his ankles and wrists, flanked by two armed guards, that his world had shifted permanently on its axis. As he opened that door and began his decent down those steps now, he felt the same way.

  He’d been scared shitless on Rikers. He wasn’t afraid today, just… He wished he didn’t have to be there. That he didn’t have to sign his life away once again.

  The sounds never failed to twist his stomach, to send bile burning the back of his throat. He walked past the doors, heavy steel doors, that didn’t hide them or mute the wretched sounds.

  Women.

  So many women.

  Three large rooms filled with women.

  He didn’t have to open those steel doors to know they’d be huddled together, giving comfort to each other, taking comfort in return. Scared and alone and lost. Confused. Wanting to know where they were, what was happening to them.

  His father had happened to them.
Selling them to sex clubs, strip clubs, and to private buyers. Always to the highest bidder.

  And soon Tek would too, if he wanted his mother to live.

  Human trafficking. It was the family business. And soon Tek would be doing what his father did now. His father’s decree. Take over or his mother died. Hell of a choice. To his father, it was no big deal. This was the family business. As his son, Tek was supposed to take over the family business. Never mind that he didn’t treat Tek as any son of his.

  He remained one in name only, a test to show how much of a man he was. This was the way he earned back the respect he’d lost as a child who hadn’t known better. This was the way he proved himself worthy to be loved again.

  He made himself walk past those three doors without breaking his stride, or slowing down. And by the time he walked into his father’s office, he was composed. Ready to face his future.

  Tony Ng sat behind a metal desk in a cramped dark room, his head bowed over the ledger spread out in front of him. He didn’t look up when Tek cleared his throat. Oh, he didn’t expect his father to look up, he simply wanted his presence known. Although, he’d always thought his dad had a sixth sense when it came to Tek. He always knew where Tek was.

  “Father.”

  Tek counted. He got to twenty-three before the older man closed the ledger, leaned back in his chair, and lifted his gaze. The thin wire-rimmed glasses on his round face caught the light and for a second Tek’s heart thudded. Until he realized that no, his father hadn’t done it, he hadn’t made eye contract.

  Over two decades, the last time his father held Tek’s gaze.

  “You’re late.” His father spoke to a spot just over Tek’s right shoulder. His words, smooth Mandarin, held no anger or reprimand, but Tek felt it anyway.

  He always did. Whenever they met he made sure to arrive late, aching for the day his father would look at him, get angry at him, and lose his temper. Anything.

  But right now, he gave Tek nothing. Same as it had been since that night. Tek got nothing.

  But that wouldn’t be true much longer, would it? The keys to the kingdom were gonna be his. Soon as he hitched himself to Mei-Lei.

  “I’m here,” he answered softly. “What do you want?”

  That gaze remained fixed over Tek’s right shoulder. “I’m told you’ll be meeting with Mei-Lei and her father.”

  “Yes.” Tek nodded.

  “Don’t leave that meeting without first setting a date. I have waited long enough.”

  The kid inside Tek cried out for something more than the frigid air of acknowledgement his father gave. He leaned against the closed door and shoved both hands in his front pockets, curling the fingers tight. This was the reason he didn’t see his father, why he stayed away, why he refused meetings until he had absolutely no choice. The alienated and abandoned child in him wanted to reach out for that comfort his father stole away.

  “Bà.” Dad. He hadn’t called his father that since that night. And just feeling that word, strange after all this time, on his tongue, cut him down. He put his weight on the door, spoke again. “Bà, please. Another way. Let’s do it another way.”

  His father didn’t acknowledge the plea. He switched his gaze to the top of Tek’s head.

  “Look at me, Bà. I’m your son. I’m still your son.” Even though I fuck men, even though I wear heels and makeup and dresses. He didn’t voice that. Emotion propelled him from the door and he found himself leaning over his father’s desk, trying to force his own flesh and blood to grant him eye contact. “I love you, Bà. I miss you.”

  There was nothing on his father’s face as he stared at the opposite wall to indicate he heard Tek’s words. That he felt the emotion Tek refused to smother.

  “You’re supposed to love me. Protect me. Why didn’t you, Bà? ” His eyes didn’t cry, he refused to let it, but the words did. He let the words cry. “I sacrificed for you, why can’t you sacrifice for me? I lie every day for you, to protect you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

  The old man leaned back in his chair, making the wheels scrape across the floor as he steepled his fingers and propped up his chin as he stared past Tek. It was impossible to reach him, to breach him. Tek knew that, but he tried.

  “I’m not marrying Mei-Lei, and I’m not stepping in to fill your shoes. Not if you can’t even grant me an explanation for why I grew up fatherless when I had my father in my life. Tell me!” He slammed both hands down on the table.

  His father didn’t flinch. What he did do was pick back up his ledger and focus on it. What he did do was speak, in the most disinterested voice possible. “Xiao Chen, you will marry,” he said, using Tek’s birth name. “The sooner the better. You will then assume your rightful place as the head of the business, and you will do it because you have done nothing else in your life of which I am proud. Because you have done nothing but make me wish I had indeed bred your mother with a daughter instead of a son. You will do it because if you don’t I will follow through on that instinct I had years ago to put an end to your life.” He flipped a page. “And hers.”

  Tek hadn’t known there were places left inside him where his father could hurt him, destroy him, but yep, there were. He stared down at the other man, his hair still midnight black, not a gray in sight, his face still unlined. Tony Ng remained frozen in time.

  “I’m not easy to kill, Bà,” he said softly. “You should ask the men on Rikers. Like you, they figured the pretty makeup and the dresses made me soft, breakable.” He smiled at the top of his father’s head. “They learned,” he spoke in English. “And so will you.”

  He left in silence and made the drive through dark streets by memory mostly, until he reached his destination, the neighborhood called The Bluffs in Northwest Atlanta. He parked in an alley, a tight squeeze between two boarded up and abandoned buildings, the trees hiding his car from view. Gun heavy in the small of his back, saliva pooling in his mouth as he anticipated what was to come, he walked through the alley with his hands hanging loose at his sides, head down, his all black ensemble of tight jeans, boots and t-shirt under the leather jacket helping him to blend in.

  He made his way to the small house with plywood covering the windows. The front door was flung wide open so Tek walked right in.

  “Tek.”

  Joe’s voice reached him first then Tek made out some movement as his friend peeled away from the darkly shadowed interior. The smell of the place was overwhelming, but familiar. Unwashed bodies, the heroin, cocaine, weed, and sex. Despair and desperation, too.

  Too familiar.

  “Joe.” He stepped fully into the small house, and Joe clasped his outstretched hand, pulling him into a loose hug.

  A lighter flicked on, the only light in the place, then disappeared after a couple seconds.

  “Got something for me?” he asked Joe. His friend nodded. A brighter light turned on, a flashlight, helping Tek make out faces to go with the euphoric moans scattered around the drug den. Men, women, all races.

  The drug didn’t discriminate. And neither did Tek. He followed Joe when he motioned to him, into another room. A small lightbulb was strung up and tacked to the wall, its yellow glow highlighting the many cracks in the plaster, the cardboard spread on the floor, and the thin mattress up against a wall. A window was boarded up, like everything else in the neighborhood.

  Tek sat on the floor on the mattress, below the boarded-up window. Joe sat next to him, the heroin in his large grasp. Tek took it, all too willing to surrender to this demon. He lost himself here.

  Every time.

  And after a visit like that with his father, the only thing Tek wanted to was to disappear.

  It was like orgasming from the best fuck ever. That feeling. Euphoric. Fiery and heavy as it settled over him, in his limbs. His vision went hazy. A low “aah…” escaped him and his head fell back. Legs stretched out in front of him, Joe next to him.

  He stayed like that, floating, until his friend touched his neck, whispered i
n his ear.

  “You need anything else, my friend?”

  Joe took care of him. Tek didn’t trust him as he did Israel or Elias, but Joe was good peoples. He gave Tek what he needed, when he needed it.

  “Need a girl? Cynthia next door can help you.”

  He did women. Sometimes. And Cynthia gave amazing head when she thought she’d be rewarded with a hit, but right now, the need awakened in him needed something truer than that. Tek barely managed, but he shook his head. His tongue felt weird, too, but he was used to it. Took a few beats to get his vision near right again. At least nowadays he didn’t throw up like the early days of shooting up.

  “Something else?” Joe’s breath was hot at Tek’s right ear.

  Tek turned to him, swallowing his saliva, grabbing the hand Joe had placed on his shoulder. He brought that hand down, to his crotch. Joe’s fingers flexed around him. His eyes went wide. Joe. Always surprised. The thick scar on his throat moved. Left behind when one of Joe’s customers tried to kill him over eighty dollars’ worth of product.

  He squeezed Tek. Expert.

  Tek’s hips rolled and he put a hand at the back of Joe’s head, pushed his head down to where he wanted it.

  Joe licked his lips, fingers fumbling as he unbuckled Tek’s belt and hauled it off. His knuckles were cold where they rested against Tek’s exposed lower belly.

  “I don’t—” Joe looked away then back at Tek. “I don’t usually do this.” The sound of Tek’s zipper was loud as Joe dragged it down with his left hand. The wedding ring on his finger caught the light, winked at Tek.

  Punctuating Joe’s lie. The one he told every time, right before… this.

  Tek shrugged. “Okay.” He threw his head back when Joe caught his hard flesh in his fist and stroked. His breath hitched when Joe’s mouth closed around him. His head fell back. The room—fuck, the house—was filled with liars. Including him. Who was he to call Joe out on his?

  Chapter Five

  Quinn cleaned an already spotless house. Top to bottom and vice versa. If he stopped he’d fall asleep and he couldn’t fall asleep. He’d stayed up the night before, lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling with the door locked and the gun next to him.