The Golden Fleece

The Fulfilment of a Debt (I)

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Eyes in the rearview mirror, wide brown ones, observed the road as it unfurled. The world was cloaked in its blue hour. Skeletal networks of iron buildings, glass clinging to their spines, sprung up like broken teeth. Black cracked asphalt and chipping yellow paint rolled beneath the car; a path forgotten while traversed.

A cassette droned Jane Eyre:

“I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in the brow; and that brow professes to say, 'I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do…”

The eyes flicked upward to take in their own reflection. Bags sat just below them, dark as bruises. Yellow discoloration was rapidly forming on his cheekbone. He looked down to the tanned hands on the steering wheel. His right one was wrapped in a thick velcro. He’d forgotten to remove it.

“Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience.”

He paused at an intersection’s red light, but contemplated ignoring it. After all, what did it mean? No one else cared anymore.

But he decided not to. Instead, he rolled down his window. Sea-salted air filled the car. It was fresh and brisk.

He remembered when he was small and his father would roll down the window to smoke a cigarette. This was before the “alteration”, that strange event. Of course, he was too young to remember exactly what life was like before things changed. The streets were quieter now and people more reserved.

His eyes flicked to a LED sign: “Controlling your alteration is as easy as one, two, THREE! Three pills a day for normalcy; three pills a day for peace. If you’re under forty, you’re eligible for up to 50% off!”

In a blink, it switched: “Bills, bills, bills. The solution is IOLCUS LOANS! A friendly neighbor you can rely on.”

The light turned green. He drove on, not stopping until he arrived at his destination.

He parked and cut the engine, interrupting the audiobook. The man released a soft sigh and reached beneath the passenger’s seat. He produced a rolled magazine. He grunted as he tucked it beneath his arm and exited.

Pausing outside, he looked up. In the early morning hours, the world felt like it belonged to him. The sun had barely opened its eyes. He shut his and inhaled slowly. The day was an inheritance or a promise just before obtained. That was dawn.

He raised his lids. A gull wheeled against the sky, its white breast illuminated by the new sun. With his free hand, he pulled the zipper on his jacket higher. It hid the spot of blood staining his white t-shirt.

As he made his way into the apartment complex, he noted a tabby cat. He crouched and held out a free hand. It observed him with wide green eyes before darting behind an overfilled dumpster.

Rejected, he straightened and continued.

Low rent apartment complexes wove together endlessly without code or reason; sepulchres of claustrophobia. As he moved through hallways the smell of the sea faded. Things here were damp and dark. Florescent lights flickered. Somewhere in the building, a baby cried.

A drunk man swayed a few doors down. “Thing’s broken,” he grumbled. He tried the code again but the red light flashed.

Clearing his throat, the younger man approached. “Morning, Mr. Cahill,” he said. His voice was soft from disuse.

Mr. Cahill squinted at him. “Hmph.”

He typed out the code into the keypad and Mr. Cahill’s door swung open.

Mr. Cahill shuffled inside and shut the door behind him without another glance at the one who’d helped.

He stared at the shut door. Then, he turned away and went into his own apartment.

Sneakers slipped off at the door and were tucked neatly into a small cubby. He arranged it just so, placing his attention on the angle of his shoes rather than the void beyond the entryway.

Finally, he lifted his head. He was lucky to have an apartment with a wide window. Slanted light made its way inward, spilling on the floor. That was the only decoration here. The silence was physical, like cotton in his ears. It crackled and popped. Lifting his shoulder, he pressed his ear to it in a desperate attempt for a fresh sensation.

The man placed his car keys on a bare kitchen counter with a clink. This was followed by the magazine. It unfurled, revealing the butt of a hammer.

He pressed play on the answering machine. A robotic voice began to recite a message:

Hello, this is Everlast Insurance. We’ve been trying to get into contact with you about your father’s will—

He pressed delete.

The next message played:

Hey, Jason, this is grandpa... I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were holding up. It’s been a while. About a year, actually! Ah, these days are just gettin’ away from me. Diane was just sayin’ we should have you over for dinner. Gimme a call back when you get the chance.

Jason’s finger hovered over the delete button. He counted to three.

Then, he hit delete.

In the bathroom mirror, Jason was better able to take in the full scope of damage dealt that night. The jacket hit the floor and the blood stained shirt soon after. Welts and cuts marked his torso. Jason took a deep breath, testing the bow of his ribs.

Bruised but not broken, he supposed.

He leaned into his reflection and tilted his head to remove pluck shards of glass from his dark brow. The clinked into the sink. Water mixed pink.

Without warning, he pressed a shaking hand to his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned. His breaths came quick and the memories even quicker: iron on bone, acid, and someone’s unheard pleas. He placed both hands on the edge of the sink and forced himself to slowly and shakily exhale.

Later, the shower water drummed on his skull. Its tattoo wouldn’t drown the sound of the previous night. It wasn’t loud enough. The shower switched off. He watched the reddened water drain.

The phone rang.

Jason blinked.

Towel wrapped around his waist, he exited the bathroom. He looked at the called ID. He released a heavy sigh.

Not again.

And yet he answered.

A voice, too-loud for so early in the morning, spoke. “Hey, Jason! This is Randy.”

“Mm. Hello.”

“How’s it going?”

“Fine, fine.”

“Just got in?”

“Yeah, about…” Jason trailed off and glanced at the clock. It was now 7AM. “An hour ago,” he finished.

“Right,” responded Randy. There was a pause. “That problem’s solved?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.” Another beat. “Late night, huh?”

Long day, more like, thought Jason.

He nodded before realizing that Randy couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he answered.

“Yeah, well, it’s still not over. Listen, I’m going to need you to come in this morning.”

Jason rubbed his eyes with the back of his free hand.

As if sensing Jason’s apprehension, Randy hurriedly continued. “I know, I know but we’re one short now, y’know? You did good last night. I’ll have you know you’re getting close to paying everything off. Gotta talk to the big man himself, but I’m sure you’re close. I’ll let you off tomorrow all day.”

“You can’t get Lou or B to do it?” asked Jason.

“Nah, nah, they can’t fix a car to save their life. They’re a coupl’a clowns... Look, Jason, some people take care of the rats, other people fix cars. You do both. Lou and B? Nah. Clowns.”

“They said no, didn’t they?”

The sound of Randy sucking his teeth was loud enough to be heard on the phone. “Shit. You’re really busting my balls here, Jason,” he said. “I pay you, don’t I?”

“Fine.”

Shetland Randy’s Car Repair

That’s what the chipped, tired blue sign said.

A group of women sucked on cigarettes. One of them lowered hers and smiled. Jason’s eyes dropped to the lipstick-stained filter. Her name was Esme. She didn’t fit in with the other women. Her eyes were too bright, skin soft, and the whites untouched by nicotine’s unrelenting yellow. She hunched slightly and pulled at the hem of her mini-skirt.

She lifted her hand to her mouth and spoke through her fingers. “Hey, Jason.”

He winked as he passed.

They all giggled.

Jason punched in, as he did noticing a hulking man making his way toward him. He was wearing a welding mask. All the same, Jason recognized the muffled voice as he spoke: “Oh, shit. They got you working today?”

“Hi, Mike. Yeah.”

“Bastards… Did you eat yet?”

“No.”

“Oh, shit. You should do something about that.” Mike paused, casting a look over his shoulder. The garage’s interior was reflected in his visor. “You seen Lazlo?” he asked.

Jason moved away, opening the nearest locker. “Not since yesterday.”

“Guess that’s why they called you in.”

“Guess so.”

Mike followed Jason, step for step. Jason sent him a sidelong look as he retrieved his coveralls.

Mike continued. “I was just wondering ‘cause he left his wallet here yesterday.”

Jason almost imperceptibly paused. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mike reached into his pocket and held it out to Jason.

Jason looked at it, expressionless. “What do you want me to do with it?”

Mike shrugged. “Randy wanted me to tell you that he wants to see you in his office when you come. Says you should wait for him there, he was here all night, apparently. Had to go home to get breakfast. Could you give the wallet to him?”

Jason hesitated, then wordlessly accepted it.

Mike continued to shadow Jason, mask still on, as Jason returned to the shop floor. He spoke once more, his large hands worrying. “Hey, think you could do me another favor?”

“I dunno, Mike. Depends.”

Mike gazed out the open garage door.

Obviously, Jason thought, he was carefully preparing his words. He halted by the coffee dispenser, grabbed a paper cup, and filled it. Then, Jason put the cup to his lips.

At last Mike spoke. “Could you take out my sister? Esme?”

The question went ignored. Jason pulled the cup away, making a face. “Why’s the coffee cold?”

“Huh? Oh. Usually Lazlo’s in charge of the coffee. It’s probably from yesterday.”

“Great,” Jason grumbled. He tossed the remnants down a nearby drain.

“So how ‘bout it?” asked Mike.

Jason looked up. “How ‘bout what?”

“My sister.”

“Esme?”

“Yeah.”

“What about her?”

“She’s been begging me to ask you for her. Just take her out once so she stops bugging me.”

Jason tossed the cup into a nearby bin. “She’s a kid.”

“No, she’s not! She’s like nineteen. Like I said, she’s really been bugging me.”

Jason’s forehead wrinkled. He wasn’t sure Mike had any clue how old his sister was. As far as he was aware, he’d never seen them interact.

“I don’t know… Is there something she wants to do?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Jason. You can go take her to the aquarium to watch the fish. Drop her off at the circus for all I care! Just take her out somewhere. She won’t leave me alone.”

Jason shook his head and walked toward the stairs toward Randy’s office. “I don’t know, Mike.”

Mike followed. “I’m begging you. You don’t have to date her. Just take her out. Just once. She won’t shut up about it. I know she’s loud and expensive, but she’s a nice enough girl, I promise. And anyway, I trust you.”

Jason placed one foot on the bottom step. He didn’t want Mike following up the stairs. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

Mike drew an eager breath. “Can I leave you her number?”

“Sure.”

Mike quickly procured a prepared slip of paper. “Thanks, man. She’s been busting my ass about this all week.”

Jason eyed the paper.

Pushing his mask off his face, Mike offered a winning smile.

Jason pursed his lips and took the number. As he turned his back, Mike called, “thanks!”

Jason lifted his hand in response.

Shetland Randy’s office was quiet compared to the rest of the garage. Jason was glad for it. The shades were drawn and the little light available laid upon a messy desk piled high with receipts and documents.

Jason noticed a painting on the far side of the room. It was new; Van Gogh’s self portrait printed on a glossy and curling poster. Hastily, Jason averted his eyes. He stared at the floor for a moment. Then, without looking at it, Jason crossed the room and ripped the picture from the wall. He tucked it between two filing cabinets.

Just as he stepped away, the door opened.

Randy entered. “Ah, Jason. Just the man I was hoping to see.”

Shetland Randy, as his nickname indicated, was built like a shetland pony: furry, short, and stocky.

Jason said nothing, but nodded his head. He remained standing as Randy took a seat in the office chair. Of course, Randy did not invite Jason to join him. Jason stood at a distance, barred by a large desktop computer.

Randy unlocked his desk drawer and produced two large wads of cash. “Heard our rat was a lot of trouble from Lou.”

Shrugging, Jason said, “It was alright.”

“Lou don’t see it that way. I was told you had to get out of the car.”

“They were taking too long.”

Randy grinned and pointed at Jason. “See, that’s why I like you.” He pushed the stacks toward Jason and said, “I added another thousand for you.”

Quiet, Jason stared at the cash with his hands firmly in his pockets.

Sensing his confusion, Randy continued. “You’re making money now, boy. Your debt’s fulfilled.”

“I have one more payment.”

Randy waved a hand. “I covered it myself. Not your fault who you’re born to, right? It’s not like you dug yourself into that hole. Anyway, like I said, you did me a big favor last night.”

Jason continued to look at the money.

Randy sat back in his chair, the springs creaking. “What? You don’t want it?”

“You want me to stay on?” Jason asked.

Stiffening, Randy caught his eye. “I do.”

Jason hesitated. Then, he pulled his hands from his pockets and grabbed the money.

Randy grinned and relaxed. He gestured toward the door. “I should put those two fuckin’ bozos on the corner selling candy from now on. Can’t do shit. I never need to worry about you, though. I always knew you were alright. Mr. Yong, he wasn’t sure, but I knew. That’s why I covered your interest. Shame wasting talent like you. I told them, I said, you’re taking it too far. It’s not his fault his dad was a rat who couldn’t handle money. This boy, he’s useful. He’s smart. You’ve got a problem, he fixes it. Y’know?”

Jason nodded along as he tucked the cash into his waistband.

Finished with his spiel, Randy began to scroll through his computer. “If you close up tonight, I’ll give you tomorrow and Monday off. How ‘bout it?”

Jason ignored the heaviness in his lids as he swept the shop floor. Everyone else, of course, had gone. Dusk fell over the garage. Shadows made their way out from corners and behind shelves.

At least it was quiet.

When at last he’d finished and Jason placed the broom away, someone pulled up.

He observed the foreign car, an Audi with tinted windows. Leaning on the broom, Jason waited. The engine continued to run. An expensively dressed exited the vehicle. Jason noted the cauliflower ear and the crooked nose.

The driver rounded the car and opened a back door.

A shoe emerged before the man, it was polished the suit’s pant leg crisp. Mr. Yong exited. His movements were limber and smooth. Muscles rippled beneath the silk shirt as he ran a hand over his salt and pepper hair.

Mr. Yong approached. “Evening!”

Jason straightened and lowered his eyes politely.

Mr. Yong smiled, revealing a gold capped incisor. “Look at this kid, Robbie,” he said to the driver. “I knew him when he was barely higher than my knee. Now look at him.”

Jason said nothing.

Mr. Yong’s smile faded. “Looks just like his father.”

Still, Jason said nothing.

Mr. Yong took a breath and spoke. “Shetland Randy reported your debt is cleared.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jason.

“Hm.” Mr. Yong took in Jason with glinting black eyes. He was well known for how dark they were; how they could read a man’s soul in a single look. Mr. Yong knew many things: money, business, power but most of all Mr. Yong knew desire.

“He also says you’re willing to stay on,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

The grin returned to Mr. Yong’s angular face. “Well, isn’t that good news. And, of course, I’ll be happy to do it.” He looked at Robbie. “Especially when my nephew does such good work, right?”

“Yes,” agreed Robbie.

“Is that nepotism?” asked Mr. Yong. He released a bark of laughter. “Or is it just good sense?”

Jason bobbed his head.

Mr. Yong placed his bejewelled hands on his hips and looked around the garage. “Well, I just came by to congratulate my nephew. He’s full of respect and goodness, I thought. So, it would make me a bad uncle if I did not come to wish him well. After all, your father gave me a chance back in the day, right?”

Jason kept his eyes trained on the floor.

The silence held.

“Right,” Jason finally agreed.

Mr. Yong clapped Jason on the shoulder. The impact was harder than necessary. “Of course, things took a turn,” Yong muttered, “but let’s not talk about that.”

Turning his back to Jason, Mr. Yong made his way to the car. “I’m having a party soon, Jason,” he said. “I would like you to come. There’s a problem I need you to fix.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robbie opened the car door. Mr. Yong paused and looked over the door to Jason. “We’ll be in touch.”

The apartment didn’t feel like it belonged to him. That thought ran through Jason’s mind as he entered the flat.

He placed his bag down and approached the answering machine. Bracing himself, Jason pressed play.

“Jason, it’s grandpa—”

Message deleted.

No further messages.

Jason turned away.

He opened the fridge and retrieved a beer, something cheap. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop and hiss.

Grunting in pain, he allowed himself to sink into the couch. He sat in silence and stared into the bottle. He gave in and grabbed the TV remote.

Couples laughed and held each other.

Families walked dogs.

Children played.

Jason caught himself on the verge of yet another sigh. It hurt his ribs to do it and the sound was beginning to get on his own nerves. He stopped himself and glanced at the clock. It was 8PM.

He switched off the TV.

His gaze wandered around the room, into the kitchen where he could see the faint red glow of the phone. He dug into his pocket and procured Esme’s number.

Read on…