chapter 30.

Jannie fumbled with her GPS as she tried to get the proper directions, her brow furrowed as she squeezed it in her hand out of frustration. She mumbled something about how it never seemed to work when she needed it to, and she wasn't wrong. In the time that I had known Jannie, she had used her father's old GPS any time we had somewhere that we wanted to go – but it had always given her some sort of trouble; whether that was because it couldn't properly situate our vehicle on the map or just by re-routing us at every opportunity. I wondered if the reason she kept it around was because it had belonged to her father, seeing as how the machine never seemed to work quite right. Jannie wasn't hard up for money either, and I had mentioned that I should just buy her a new one for her birthday – but she immediately shut down that idea and said hers was fine.

I liked that about Jannie – the way that she could be so stubborn about the most miniscule things, usually about situations that don't concern most people. She wasn't a creature of habit like I was, instead it was more that she liked the way certain things operated and if it wasn't broken, then why fix it. When her mother was thinking about moving to a new house, Jannie convinced her otherwise – again, this could have been because of the memories that she shared with her father in the house, or it could just be the fact that Jannie didn't want unnecessary change. Either way, Jannie operated in a way that suited her.

Finally the GPS came back to life and put us on the proper route, passing on by the outskirts of Denver until it directed us to a small truck stop where there happened to be a motel beside a bar with a barely noticeable sign that said Troubleshooters. There were quite a few eighteen-wheeler trucks parked in the lot as well as pick-up trucks and a few motorcycles, I couldn't help but notice a few women chatting up some of the truck drivers that had stopped to rest. In the same lot there was a gas station with a small diner, nothing fancy and certainly not a place that just anyone would go to for a meal – it had a specific clientele that made up the customer base. Suffice to say that Jannie and I were sticking out like sore thumbs as we exited my van, stretching our legs from the long drive.

One of the women hopped into a truck, clearly exchanging illegal services with the driver. I cringed at it all, wondering just how disappointed my dad would be if he knew where I was right now. I had heard stories from his friends about these sort of places, usually when he had the guys over for their monthly poker game in the kitchen when they thought I was fast asleep. They would talk about how the women were riddled with diseases, typically missing a few teeth and squeezing in their distended bellies from years of alcohol consumption into pants that were far too tight, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. I remember trying to picture the women in my head and seeing these odd caricatures of what my young mind thought they would look like. I was surprised to find that the real life versions of these women were nothing like what I had imagined, instead they seemed fairly normal – a little rough around the edges but clearly just trying to make ends meet. Mostly I felt bad for them, wondering where their lives would have brought them had they been given the same opportunities as everyone else.

I noticed that a few sets of eyes drifted towards Jannie and I, gently tapping her on the arm to follow me inside of the bar. We kept close together as we entered, the smell of urine, tobacco, and booze wafted against us as soon as we stepped inside, trying to hide our disgust as we glanced around at our surroundings. It was barely three in the afternoon and yet there seemed to be quite a few bodies lingering about, some were playing a game of pool on a very ragged pool table, others were spread out at a variety of different tables, while some were huddled up in conversation at the bar counter itself. The walls were littered with various fliers and posters that boasted different alcohol brands as well as a few scantily clad women posed in less than flattering positions. A twangy country song played through the speakers, just enough to be heard but not enough to drown out the loud conversations that were taking place at the counter. Both of us seemed unsure of where to go or what to do, feeling entirely out of place in a bar like this. Jannie's confidence dwindled as soon as some of the patrons looked over in our direction, clearing her throat as she shrugged at me.

"I don't suppose we could just walk up to the counter and ask about Marik?" Jannie said sarcastically, keeping her voice low as we walked very slowly towards the bar. "What's the plan, Stan?"

I shrugged. "Ask where the nearest casino is, and then pretend we don't have enough money?"

She smirked at me in a way that showed she was slightly surprised. "You really think that will work? I think they'd be less likely to refer us to Marik."

"You heard Ben – a lot of people go to these loan sharks because they have gambling addictions. Maybe we just play it up like that's our deal and then we'll seem like a good candidate?" I whispered back, sitting down on the nearest bar stool to the door, Jannie joined me.

"You do the talking then, because I'll definitely get it wrong," Jannie added, rearranging herself before plastering on her best fake smile as the bartender approached us. She ordered us two beers – though I didn't catch the name as she spout it all out so fast. I mentioned that I had to drive and she gave me a look that said play along.

The bartender eyed us for a long second, taking quite an interest in Jannie as he scraped some of the foam from the top of our glasses before handing it to us. He was a younger man, probably early thirties, with a wiry beard that came down to his rather pronounced Adam's apple and dark almond eyes that were lined with a thick set of black lashes. Despite being muscular his stomach jutted slightly over his belt buckle, his face was slender with his cheeks sunken in. He had a pair of thick black rimmed glasses hanging from the neck of his shirt, freeing them so that he could sit them on his slightly crooked nose. He bit his lip for a moment as he leaned slightly over the counter, a smile appearing on his face with jagged teeth showing on one side.

"On a long road trip, ladies?" He said, not once taking his eyes off of Jannie. I didn't like the way that he was looking at her as though she was a searing piece of meat laid fresh out for a pack of hungry wolves.

I smiled the best that I could, feeling the urge to jump over the counter and turn his attention away from Jannie. I could practically hear his thoughts as his eyes drifted lazily down to her chest, making her self-conscious as she tried to modestly cover herself without him realizing it. "We're visiting Denver for a few days, but we got a bit lost on the way here," I said, finally getting him to take his eyes off of Jannie. "We wanted to hit up a couple of casinos, maybe try our luck a bit, you know?"

He nodded, this time his eyes began to trail down to my chest but found himself pulled back to Jannie. "Sounds like a good time, try not too spend all your daddy's savings in one go," He said, winking at Jannie as he pulled himself away from the counter so that he could fiddle with something beneath.

"I wish," I laughed, nudging Jannie. "University swamped us – there's no such thing as handouts anymore."

"It's all a waste of time if you ask me, just another way for the big guys to clean out your pockets," The bartender responded, bringing up a tray of glass beer steins so that he could dust them off. "There's plenty of ways two pretty things like you could make money that you don't need a piece of paper that cost you over a hundred grand."

"Like what – borrowing money from someone?" Jannie interrupted, immediately pulling the bartender's attention back to her.

He shrugged, polishing a glass before setting it back down on the tray. "Usually girls like you can make a lot of money taking your clothes off. You'd be surprised how much of those student loans you could pay off in no time," He said, almost as though he was slightly joking but still a serious undertone was present. "You really think you're gonna be able to hit the jackpot at a casino? Hah, good luck on that one. You're more likely to end up with less than you came here with."

I noticed a few other men at the other end of the bar slinking towards us, beers in hand as they made themselves comfortable on seats nearby, listening in to our conversation. They were like vultures as they watched us with complete ease, waiting for any opportunity to swoop in and make their move. I felt very uneasy about being here, trying to pull the conversation away from our bodies and onto what we really came here for. "Well, your first suggestion isn't an option for us, we're women of class, and we did happen to pay for our pieces of paper already, so we're already a hundred thousand in debt. What's a little more debt if it means a bit more time to work?" I said, ringing out my best smile even though my heart was now beating fast as the men leaned over and nodded in our direction.

The bartender paused, squinting his eyes at us for a moment. He was very aware of the barking dogs beside him, but acted like it was old news, instead trying to figure something else out in his head. "You looking for a different kind of work then?" He questioned, stepping in closer to us as he lowered his voice. "Because I can help you two ladies get situated in a nice business deal, if that's what you want."

"Nope, no – definitely not what we're talking about," Jannie nervously interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest as she tried to ignore the dirty comments coming from the men beside us. "Let's just cut straight to the point, Ellion."

I realized that Jannie was increasingly uncomfortable, reaching over to grab my leg as soon as one of the men stood up from his bar stool and rounded us until he was perched on the seat right next to Jannie, puckering his lips at her suggestively while she edged on her seat until she was nearly in my lap. The bartender ignored the creep of a man beside us still, running his fingers through his hair as he put down his beer stein. I felt like we were about to be boxed in, realizing that we may have to forget about Marik and Troubleshooters. "Listen, we heard there was a guy here who could help us out with a bit of extra money, and not for any of the services you're telling us about. He goes by the name of Marik?" I questioned, watching the expression change on the bartender's face.

"What's your price, baby? I can help you with all those pesky bills," The man beside Jannie said, placing his hand on Jannie's thigh as she swatted him off.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled, shoving off of her bar stool so that she could stand between me and the door, trying to pull me from the seat but I refused to move.

The bartender looked over the man, snapping at him until he backed off a little. Once the man was put in his place, the bartender leaned over the counter towards me. "You want to know about Marik, do ya? You've got some cojones coming in here asking about him," The bartender said, his tone lowering drastically from how playful it was before. "I'm gonna let you off the hook this time, mostly because if you two are cops then you're not the wisest crackers they sent out and also because your friend is one of the prettiest little things that have walked into this bar in years – consider yourself lucky, ladies."

"So you can help us get in contact with Marik?" I questioned.

The bartender laughed. "You best walk out of this bar, get into your soccer-mom-van, and drive yourself back to the suburbs, sweetheart. Marik ain't gonna want anything to do with y'all."

"Nonsense, maybe I can put in a good word for you, honey," The man beside us chirped in, pushing himself off of a bar stool so that he could hover towards Jannie, trying to put his hands on her but she continued to push him away. I jumped off of my seat this time, trying to intervene but the guys' friends grabbed me and pulled me away from Jannie and the disgusting man.

"Take it easy there, Brixton," The bartender called out, but his voice didn't sound as menacing as it had the first time he scolded the man. He seemed more reserved, watching as the man batted Jannie around playfully like a cat with a mouse. Jannie yelled out, shoving him away with every chance she got. I tried to break free from the sweaty hands of his friends, who were now beginning to take an interest at me as they picked and plucked at my clothes. The bartender sighed, smacking the top of the bar which caused all of the men to pause and draw their attention to him. "Alright, that's enough, boys, let them go. If they want to talk to Marik, then let 'em – it's not my problem."

The bartender ordered one of the men that happened to be near me to head over to the motel to grab Marik, but as the man left me he whispered in my ear that he wanted to do certain things which I care not to repeat twice. Jannie managed to push the man named Brixton off of her, joining my side as we huddled together away from the men. They muttered to themselves as they drew away, cursing a few times at the bartender. He nodded at each of them, clearly having seen this behaviour from them before like it was an old hat. Once everyone was seated, the bartender motioned for us to go back to our original bar stools but neither Jannie nor I made a move in that direction. We were perfectly content to stand closer to the door where we could make a quick escape if needed.

"Don't be so uptight, they were just messing with you," The bartender said, showering us in one of his sly crooked smiles. "You ladies could use a sense of humour."

"It wasn't funny," Jannie snapped back, rearranging her shirt that had been tampered with. "And if any of you dare come near us like that again, I will not hold back."

The men began to hoot and holler at the other end of the bar where they had slunk off to, but Jannie meant business. I could see by the pinched line between her eyebrows and the dead look in her eyes that she was only seeing red. If there was one thing Jannie couldn't stand, it was men who thought they could treat women like objects – especially men who had only one thought in their head whenever they looked in the direction of a woman.

After a few awkward minutes of waiting, the man that went to retrieve Marik came back into the bar and took his seat with the others, while both Jannie and I turned our attention to the door. In walked a dishevelled character who stood barely as tall as Jannie, his thinning hair lopsided as though he had just been woken up from a nap while there were sweat stains around the collar of his shirt and some protruding from beneath his armpits. He had more than a five o'clock shadow that had patches of grey appearing and large bug-like eyes that were sunken into his head surrounded by puffy purple rings. I was expecting someone a bit more intimidating – I pictured Marik as an Eastern European man with flicks of chest hair popping up from beneath a button-down shirt and gold chains rung around his neck, maybe a toothpick pinched between his teeth and a distinguished beard that lined his face. But the true Marik was nothing like what I had seen in my head, instead I found myself unnerved by the fact that he looked like the type of man you could find sleeping at a bus stop at rush hour.

"Lemme guess, you blew your college tuition on vodka and Louis Vutton," The man said, who I assumed must have been Marik, as he passed us by without a single glance in our direction. He perched himself on the nearest bar stool, tapping the counter as the bartender poured a glass of brandy for him. "Sit down, girls, I don't have all day."

Jannie and I looked at each other to weigh out whether we should, but I nodded as we took a seat near the man – this time at a safe and reasonable distance so that we didn't become trapped by the men that were at the other end of the bar. "Something like that. We heard you could help us out with money if things were tight," I replied.

He paused, finally making eye contact as he peered up over his glass at us. "I'm not a charity, you realize that right? Because if you think you can get some extra cash from me and then run off, you've got another thing coming."

"Not at all, we fully intend to do proper business with you," I concluded. "Is there somewhere that we can speak that's a bit more private?"

He snorted. "Sure, why don't you just come visit me in my office?" Marik replied, ushering us to follow him as his stumpy legs scattered through the bar and out the front door. We followed a safe distance behind him, watching as he led us over to his motel room where the door was left wide open. He motioned for us to have a seat on the questionable couch as he sat down at the small table beside the television that looked as though it had been plucked straight out of the eighties. Once we were settled, he sighed and rolled his wrist at us. "I've got a few simple rules you'll need to follow, otherwise there won't be any deals between us, understood? First, I don't care what your situation is and if you try to use some family crisis or whatever as a means to escape payments, we ain't gonna have a good time together. Second, if you refuse to make payments and or try to make a quick escape, I'm just letting you know that my legs may be short but I can run a hell of a lot faster than you can. Third, if you think getting the five-oh involved will help your case, think again. There's nothing they will do for you, especially if I find out you've been talking to them because you'll be six feet under before they can even look into the matter. Any funny business and you won't have to worry about making any payments, your parents will. Are we loud and clear or are you going to make me repeat myself which I really hate doing."

"Understood," I replied, leaning forward on the couch so that my back wasn't resting against it. "We wouldn't dare dream of anything like that. We just want to weigh through our options. I'm not going to get into the details, like you said, but I just had some questions regarding payments. How soon do you require repayment?"

"Depends on the amount. If you're looking at a couple grand, then I equate that to a few weeks – maybe a few months if I think it's worth my time. If we're talking over six figures, then we can negotiate a few months up to a year," Marik replied, cracking his fingers out one by one. "I do collect interest on late payments though, be warned. So if you suddenly have some other things pop up and need more time, I'll charge you more money for it."

"Out of curiousity, what happens if we can't make the full payment on the date we set?"

He chuckled, a snort slipping out. "Is that going to be an issue with you, ladies? Because I don't want to invest my time in flaky people, especially if you already know you won't be able to pay it back on time."

"That's not what I'm saying at all, I just want to know what kind of businessman you are, that's all."

He leaned forward in his chair, baring his misshapen and yellow teeth at us. "The type that does not play games."

"So you would kill someone for money?"

He burst out laughing, slapping his hand on the table beside him. "You're pretty new to this, ain't'cha?" He paused, scanning us over as he reeled himself in. "I'm not saying I would, but I'm also not saying that I wouldn't."

"So if I wasn't able to pay you back, you'd go after my friend here or her family to make ends meet?"

This question clearly upset him as he immediately stood up and pointed towards the door. "You're asking too many questions, kid, I think it's about time you leave."

Jannie began to stand up but I pulled her down onto the couch again, keeping my gaze steady on Marik. "I think I'm allowed to ask questions when it comes to this sort of investment, don't you? What kind of person do you take me for? I want to know what will happen if you think I'm not making payments. Are you going to try to kill my family if I don't?"

Marik breached the distance between us, leaning down so that his face was so near to mine. His breath was hot and wreaked of someone who hadn't picked up a toothbrush in months. "If you don't make a payment, you'll wish you never heard of me."

He went to place his hand on my shoulder, but I quickly grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him, quickly a premonition hit me like a strong gust of wind. Suddenly I was packed into a tight bathroom stall, perched on the edge of a toilet seat as a woman kissed my neck while trying to unbutton her own shirt. My hands were small and dirt was caked underneath my fingernails, dark black hair littered my arms and I could taste tobacco and strong whiskey on my tongue. I fumbled the woman between one arm and the other, trying to fish a small packet from my pants pocket. She giggled as soon as she heard the crinkle of the bag, pulling back as I slipped it open and poured a bit of white powder on the webbing skin between my thumb and my pointer finger. Without a seconds hesitation she bent over to snort it from my hand, giggling and sniffling as she pulled away while rubbing at her now red nose. My hands were shaking as I poured a rather large bump of powder onto the same spot as before, feeling a queasiness roaring in my stomach and a tightness in my chest as I inhaled the fine powder into my nostril, barely feeling a thing until the heat burnt the back of my raw throat. I coughed a few times, discarding the now empty bag onto the slightly damp bathroom floor as I wound my short arms around the woman once more. She threw herself on me, scattering sloppy wet kisses everywhere she could as I anxiously returned the favour. Her slender fingers reached for the zipper on my pants, but the second that she did I felt a strike of pain in my chest like someone had prodded me with a sharp knife. I coughed, reaching for my chest as she continued to try to get my pants undone.

Karen, my baby, Karen, I coughed out, feeling lightheaded at this point. Something ain't right, Karen. I think that batch was mixed.

The woman, whose name I now knew as Karen, pulled away as she investigated me. She shook her head and said that she was fine, that I was overreacting and probably just had too much to drink beforehand. I argued with her for a minute, saying that I was starting to feel as though I was going to throw up and that she better move out of the way. At first I tried not to show how anxious I was getting, but the urge to spill the contents of my dinner became so overwhelming that I shoved her out of the way so that she was pressed against the stall door, spinning around to try to open the lid of the toilet but being unable to open it in time as vomit protruded from my mouth. Karen screamed out, grabbing the back of my shirt to pull me away so that I could hopefully get the lid open with little success. It was too late, I was already throwing up and it had already covered most of the stall at this point. I could hear her yelling my name over and over again – Marik, Marik, Marik! But she began to sound distant, like someone had plugged my ears with cotton.

The pain in my chest began to get tighter, leaving me short of breath as I continued to throw up, noticing that blood was now twinged in between the leftovers of my meal. My head felt hot and the room was beginning to spin, a shooting pain filling up my arm as though someone had shoved a hot poker inside of my veins. I tried to say her name again, but the words came out in heaves. She was crying now, but I could barely hear her screams for help. The world began to fade out, unable to keep myself on my knees any longer as I crashed into the side of the toilet paper dispenser, smacking my head off of it before landing in the puddle of my fluids on the floor.

"Karen," I called out, coming back into the present as the blackness rolled from my eyes. Marik stood in front of me as I grasped tightly onto his wrist, a mark of confusion on his sweaty face. The date and time rolled through my head – May 20th at two-forty-four in the morning. Which meant only one thing: Marik was not responsible for John's death.

Marik pulled his wrist away from me, practically having to tear my fingernails from his skin as he backed away. "I've had enough, you two can head out the door you came in," Marik snapped, pointing away from him. "Get – out!"

I still felt lightheaded, but Jannie knew I had just had a premonition. She helped me to my feet and the two of us scattered as quickly as we could from Marik's motel room and straight to the van, Jannie taking the keys from me as she helped me into the passengers seat. She didn't waste a second as soon as she was behind the wheel, tearing out of that parking lot so fast that I didn't have time to comprehend what was going on. Once we were a safe distance away, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"What happened back there?" Jannie said anxiously as she reached over to place the back side against my head, checking for a fever. "Was that a premonition?"

"He isn't the one who will kill John," I mumbled, my head splitting from the pain. "It's not him, Jannie."

"Thank god," Jannie mumbled, focusing on the road again. "Let's promise to never do anything like that again, okay?"