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“You weren’t expecting me?”
“Fuck no. They said the room would be empty. They said to just come up here, get into the room and help myself to whatever I found. I just had to trash the place while I was doing it.”
“Sounds fucking stupid to me. What are you supposed to be looking for?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. A couple guys pulled up in a dark car. Asked if I wanted to make some money. I said, ‘hey, doesn’t everybody?’ I thought they just wanted me to suck their dicks, or something like that.”
“Are you a prostitute?” I asked him point blank.
“What? No. I mean, not officially, but you know how it is. Occasionally, to make a little extra cash.” He shrugged.
“Give me the gun before someone gets hurt,” I ordered as he talked.
“Oh, uh, sure. They said it wasn’t—”
I turned and aimed at the wall behind me. It’d wake the neighbors, but we were done talking anyway.
“What the fuck man!” he yelled as his body jerked in reaction to the pop of the gun. “There weren’t supposed to be any bullets in that.”
“What’s your name?” I asked him as I emptied the bullets from the chamber.
“Donald,” he answered quickly as he started backing up.
“No. Don’t do that, Donald. You took a job, now you have to finish it.” I indicated the room. “Go ahead. Trash it.”
“What? Man, I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“That makes two of us. Now, trash the room.” I walked over to the bed and pulled my gun out from under the pillow. “I promise you. This one is loaded.”
“Okay, okay! Don’t frickin’ shoot me. I’ll do it. Where should I start?”
I shrugged. “Do whatever you would do when you trash a room. And you have about a minute. Go on, get busy.”
I snapped off the desk light.
“Wait! It’s dark in here. How am I supposed to—”
“Clock’s ticking, Donald. I’d start with the dresser drawers if I were you.”
I heard him pull open drawers while he muttered under his breath. He opened them, then slammed them shut again.
“Dude, there’s nothing in here.”
“Dude, I’m not your dude. About thirty seconds left.”
He moved over to the closet. “Man, you’re not going to kill me, are you? I don't understand what’s happening here.”
“What’s happening here, Donald, is that you’re not a very good liar.”
He stopped moving.
I reached under the bed and pulled out my suitcase while I kept my gun pinned on him.
I knew men and I particularly knew how dishonest men acted. The high-pitched voice, the breathlessness. He was antsy, but not antsy enough.
