Being a college dropout and working at an office supply store makes it pretty obvious that I do not make a lot of money. Even with being promoted to Assistant Manager I can hardly meet ends meet while paying for my single bedroom apartment, utilities, and the ramen noodles and occasional TV dinners I eat for the month.
Though I can never spoil myself or necessarily eat 3 meals a day; I have learned to adapt to it, and still managed to remain happy to have finally moved out of the hotel I was living in 2 years before. Though it put a strain on me financially I was just glad to be able to bring friends and family over without having everyone constantly worry about where I am living. Of course, I really do wish I could get a credit card so that I can manage to raise my credit score and start utilizing my money better, but due to people taking advantage of me when I was eighteen my credit is completely unsalvageable.
One day last month when I went to work I finally received my first chance at having my own credit card. I woke up, got dressed, and ate a snack cake just like any other day, but when I got to work I saw a man standing outside with a table and a sign that read “Credit Approved for Everyone!!!” Well, that grabbed my attention instantly because unlike most 100% credit approvals this was actually for a card and not some payday loan. So I walked up to the table and checked out of one of the many pamphlets that littered his table.
After talking to the man, which had a voice of a basketball game announcer, I realized that this card seemed like it was simply too good to be true. They do not pay attention to your credit score, no security deposit, there was only one catch, and that was that you have to use a minimum of 250 dollars on the card and there is an automatic 4.5% interest fee. So, they make money from you every single month you have the credit card, but I don’t mind since I can finally try to start raising my credit score up!
After I am done filling out my information the man tells me that I will get my card shipped to my address within the next 3 days. So with excitement flowing through every part of my body, I practically jumped into work and got through the day in the best mood I had been in years. While I was walking home I decided to treat myself and got myself some Lasagna at the local Italian restaurant and enjoyed every last bite on the plate.
When I got home I noticed that there was a letter in my mail slot so I grabbed it and walked upstairs to my room. Once inside, I tossed the letters on the coffee table and watched some TV. When that got boring I looked around the room to find something else to do and realized I had completely forgotten about the mail. The only thing was, there were 2 letters when I know for a fact that I only grabbed one. I dismissed it off by blaming being over excited about the new credit card and check the letters.
The first letter just contained a cheesy flyer from my landlord telling me that my rent is due next week and to remember about the New Tenant party he is having for all of us on Friday evening. After throwing the letter in the trash can I flipped the other letter over and notice there was absolutely nothing written on it. I tore open the letter to find a single piece of paper and a card inside.
The writing on the paper was handwritten and stated “unlimited credit limit. 250 dollar minimum spending limit. Automatic 4.5% interest. You do not want to make a late payment. Enjoy.”
As silly as it seems, the only thing that I could think about the mysterious envelope was the unlimited credit limit. How awesome!
I know that my purpose of having a credit card was improving my credit and managing my money, but I couldn’t fight the urge to celebrate. I immediately went to the mall and bought a brand new outfit and the new Naked eye-shadow palette that I’ve been wanting. I filled my refrigerator with groceries. I felt like a brand new person.
Later that night, dressed to the nines, I went to my favorite little bar. I ordered a rare steak and a loaded baked potato, and I got top shelf liquor. I knew I was being irresponsible, but I also knew this was my only chance to celebrate. After this, I had to put my game face on and get serious about my finances.
After about three drinks, I found myself chatting up a guy that was sitting next to me at the bar. We talked about my classes, our jobs, and our respective hobbies. Eventually, my new credit card came up. I was explaining the story to him, and when I finished, he looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t you think this seems a little too good to be true?” he asked.
“Everything happens for a reason,” I smirked.
“Maybe you’re right,” he muttered.
I ordered another drink, and he turned back to his friends. The conversation seemed to be over until he suddenly turned to me and lightly touched my arm. “Isn’t it kind of strange that the envelope had nothing on it? Not even a stamp?”
My stomach rolled. I honestly hadn’t even thought about it. It was kind of strange that the envelope was blank. It didn’t have my name, my address, or as he pointed out, even a stamp. I remembered that the note that came with the card was handwritten. You do not want to make a late payment, it had said. I pushed my half-finished drink away, suddenly feeling nauseated.
I think the stranger noticed my face fall. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just be careful, is all I’m saying.”
I nodded and mumbled my thanks. I quickly paid my tab with the bartender, leaving a generous tip. I stumbled out of the bar, and I made a promise to myself to shred the card as soon as I got home. Even though I knew it was a promise I couldn’t afford to keep.
As I neared my car, I noticed a man leaning against the driver's door. When he saw me approaching he grinned at me. “Enjoying your new card?” he asked.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Well, I’m your creditor, of course. But you can call me Max.” The grin hadn’t left his face.
“What do you want?”
“Well, let’s see…You have racked up about $300 today. Congratulations on reaching the minimum! Your first payment is due tonight.”
“Tonight?” I reeled. “I don’t have the money for it tonight! That’s why I got the card in the first place.”
His teeth were shining in the darkness. “Oh, no worries. It’s not money that I’m looking for.”
I could feel my whole body trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. “I’m not about to blow you to pay for this. I will find a way,” I said as confidently as I could.
He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “That’s not what I want either. I have a job for you.”
“A job?” I asked reluctantly.
He took a step toward me, and I instinctively took a step back. I noticed for the first time how menacing he looked. “A job. You complete it tonight, and you’ve made your first payment in full. You ready?”
I wish I could say I took to heart all those self-defense training classes and kicked him in the soft spots.
It'd be better than what I ended up doing. Truly.
I said nothing, and I followed him to a black Aston Martin. It was pristine. He opened the passenger door, and I got in wordlessly. He entered the driver's side and started the car. He drove and began talking.
"You notice most people don't take to heart what a deal really means?" He was looking at me while driving. My face showed horror, which elicited a smile. He stopped at every red light without slamming the brakes, never breaking eye contact.
It was creepy.
"You accepted a gift without the auspices of gift-giving, well, you are agreeing to carte blanche terms."
"I agreed to specific terms," I offered. It sounded like my voice was smothered with a lead blanket. His eyes narrowed, and his smile was gone for a fleeting second. It returned.
"You did, and you broke them. I am not talking about you, dear." He clicked his turn signal and moved lanes. I knew he was doing it for show, but he was impressing me with every movement. "Where I come from, you only agree to what you intend to do, and you only agree to what you can actually do. Your people are too quick to use outside of their means. That's what's wrong with your generation." I appraised him for a moment. He wasn't much older than me, ostensibly. He spoke oddly, but he definitely didn't seem like anyone who wasn't from at least a couple decades from me. He stopped the car and left it idling.
"Since the deal was honestly vague, here's your real choice." We were at the bar where he picked me up. I could see my car. I could make it there if I ran. "You leave, go home, and forget this night happened. We will consider tonight a pass, or you agree to take the job, and we are on even terms."
I considered that for a second. For all his talking, he was hammering on one idea. There is no charity.
"What's the terms if I leave?"
He laughed a crisp, boisterous one that actually made me smile. I didn't like how I lost control of my emotions in front of this stranger.
"You are a fun one. We report your debt. The interest alone would lure some of the worse bounty hunters out of retirement. I think you're spry enough to outstrip them though." His teeth were showing, and I noticed how bright they were. It was me biding my time.
"Let's just get it over with," I said, and he whipped the steering wheel with so much force, I felt my face press hard into the passenger window. He didn't look remotely disturbed.
"The job is simple. Robert Marrs is having dinner in La Frontière. You walk in, use the name I'll give you, walk up to his table, call his name, and throw water in his face. Then, you leave."
"That's.... that's it?" I felt nauseated. "This is a fucking joke, isn't it? I know I have to sign waivers for TV shows."
"That's my terms. In exchange, your first payment is complete. Do you accept?" He showed no emotion as he waited for me.
"Of course."
He said nothing on the ride to the restaurant, though he was driving so fast, there wasn't much time. He idled the car in front of the columned entrance.
"I'll wait here. He's wearing a red and white bow tie. White shirt. Black jacket. Use the name 'Sig'. They'll give you a table."
I nodded and got out of the car. I walked up to the maître d', and he beamed at the utterance of my pseudonym. He guided me to table towards the back. And there he was. A man in his forties, salt-and-pepper hair. Chiseled jaw. Steely eyes with a woman in a red dress that would make people reconsider eating meat to see her in a bikini. Suddenly, nerves hit, but I knew this would be my best chance. Like a band-aid
"Bobby?" I improvised. "Bobby, is that you?"
Bow tie looked at me and his eyes went wide. The woman next to him instantly started to scowl. Before either could say a word I grabbed a glass off the table of what looked like champagne, and threw it in his face. "You bastard! Who is this whore!?" I noticed the viscous liquid was thicker than champagne. Then, I realized in my nervous bumbling, I grabbed the decanter of oil for the bread. I flew out of the restaurant, hoping Max hadn't left me flounder.
The Aston Martin was waiting for me, only the driver's door was open now. Max was gone. I went to the car, timidly, and it was still idling. The keys were in the ignition. People were looking, and I could see Robert the Bow tie gathering people and making his way to the door.
Sometimes, choices are easy. I jumped into the car and speed off.
I parked outside my apartment because it was the only thing I could do at this point, the car looking extremely out of place on the grimy street. The whole situation was absurd and had left me puzzled. Nevertheless, it had been a long day and I went to sleep without thinking too much about it. The next day, the Aston Martin was gone without trace. I don't know how that was possible considering the fact that I had the key, and it is virtually impossible to drive one without it. I decided not to report this to the police for obvious reasons.
I decided not to use my new line of credit despite my delicate financial condition. These were some shady individuals and whatever company this was, it could not possibly have been legal. Over the next few weeks I found myself increasingly short of cash but managed to pay the bills thanks to petty loans from family and friends. At this point, I had forgotten about the whole Max incident. That was until I saw him again on my way back from work, next to the hot dog stand on my street. I was bewildered at his appearance but chose to ignore him. As I walked past him he called out out my name- he was obviously not here to try the hot dogs.
"You haven't been using your card, we've noticed".
"Yeah, I really don't have much use for it these days."
"On the contrary, you have great need for it. We know exactly what your financial situation is,” he asserted in a threatening tone.
"Listen, I'm just not interested in using the card. I feel the terms are not worth the benefit. Thank you for your concern about my financial well being though,” I responded.
"You don't understand. You're now a part of a privileged club. We take care of the people who join it and in return we expect adequate payment. It is imperative that we keep our mutually beneficial relationship running. Not continuing this is considered to be an unfriendly act and we take it very seriously." His demeanor was very imposing and made me feel uncomfortable.
"What if I don't want to continue this 'relationship'?" I asked.
"For your own sake, you'll have to. Now listen very carefully. We're willing to double your credit limit for the next three months if you do as I tell you. Take this bag, and deliver it to an address that I'll text you some time during the next few days. Until you get the text, keep this safe in your apartment where no one can see it." He moved a large worn out bag towards me.
"Look, I'm not interested in these little games you're playing. I don't need your money. Take your offer somewhere else,” I stated clearly and went to my apartment.
He answered only with a single-arched eyebrow.
As I looked back, he gave me the same sly smile he wore when he gave me the absurd task a few weeks back, except this time it made me shudder. I knew I didn’t really have a choice. I never did.
"So the offer?" I questioned him, "Who's house am I delivering it to?"
"It's not in your job description to question me, and you will not know where you are going until you get a text sometime in the next few days."
A pause.
He continued, "when you get there, all you need to do is drop off the package on the front door, ring the doorbell, and leave. Don't open the bag, don't stay on the porch, and do not look into why you are doing this."
For some reason, my eyes started to tear up. What the hell am I getting myself into? It sounds like I'm dropping off a bomb at this house. But nevertheless I was stuck, "I'll do it."
His cheery smile returned to his face and he said, "great! The package is in an Audi. It's parked the next street down on the corner. And thank you." He nodded to himself then turned away. Before he disappeared from my sight he turned around and shouted to me, "enjoy your credit! Live a little!"
I turned away from him and started towards my house, when I remembered the Audi. Sure enough, there was a dark blue, two door Audi parked on the corner of the road. For the next week, I didn't spend any of the money, and I only drove the Audi once--and that was only to take it home. Max's dark grimace never left my mind, and two days after I received my threat, I started having nightmares with Max as the central orchestrator in my doom. Finally I broke, I had to spend the money. To keep it simple to explain, I dug myself in a deep money hole.
And, then that fateful day hit. I was out with one of my friends. We were bored, so I got in her car, and we drove around the city. When she got to my house to pick me up I could tell she saw the Audi, but she didn't mention it. Did she think I was selling drugs? I went from abject poverty to having enough money for a car nicer than hers. If she did, she didn’t say a word.
I received the text as I chewed over her loyalty. It was three words.
121 Crimson Place
For a few minutes I fell into a strange silence. Then, I demanded my friend to drive me home.
"Immediately," I said.
"For what?" she asked. Her tone and her checking the rearview mirror told me she was worried.
"My credit card."
“Your card? I got you if you need the money.”
“I just need it. Please take me home.” She didn’t argue after that.
I got in the Audi. The key was still in the ignition. I sat down and floored the gas, not bothering to put on my seatbelt or worry what was in the bag. The Audi had a built in GPS, so I plugged in the address and to my joy, the house was only five minutes away. Turns out five minutes seems like a lifetime if you're as scared as I was. Every turn I made to get closer to the house my fear grew ever more.
What was in the bag? What if it was a bomb, and the house belonged to a politician or something. Could I survive wherever they put terrorist? Would they even attempt to arrest me? What if it’s just a bunch of drugs? What if it’s a body? What if I get pulled over and searched?
The houses turned from low class to high class and beyond. When I turned onto Crimson Place, there was only two houses on the small road. The closest, 123, was a tall Gothic building. It looked like a haunted house from some cheesy horror cartoon. My main focus, however, was 121 Crimson Place. Damn... that place looked like Bill Gates put all of his money into it. It is safe to say that at least a hundred of my apartments could fit comfortable in that house.
I decided to get it over with so I idled the car on the curb and opened the trunk. Inside was a small yellow bag. It looked normal enough; like a gym bag. When I picked it up, it felt surprisingly light and empty. I threw the bag over my shoulder and walked up the path to the front door. I tried to appear normal enough, but that was before I heard the bloodcurdling scream coming from inside the massive house.
It sounded oddly delighted.
I stepped closer. I dropped the bag in front of the door. I went to press the bell, and the door snapped open. I froze.
“Why are you trespassing?” A voice so deep it was melodious. I was frozen and blind. It took me a second to register the man, and he was... perfect. He towered over me with a thick shock of hair and a beard that many guys in my classes wish they could grow collectively. His eyes were piercing my soul, assessing my value. He was shirtless, and I lost count of his abs. A slow smirk crept across his face. I wanted him, and I am unsure where that urge came from.
“I was just to bring you this bag.” I broke the deal. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell you this. Can you just forget it, please? I am in a lot of trouble here.”
He looked down and rubbed his eyes. I heard voices behind him. Women. Several.
“Who sent you?” His fingers stroked his eye balls.
“Max.”
“Of course.” He trailed his hands and stroked his beard. “You are absolved of whatever deal he forced you into. If he challenges you, tell him to talk to me. I’m sorry.” I nodded, stumbled some words, and I sensed if I stayed long, I would have been invited in.
I drove the Audi home, cut up the card, and I learned my lesson:
Always read the fine print.
Submitted March 31, 2017 at 06:03AM by INeedHelpWithDebt http://ift.tt/2oeVm5h nosleep
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