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LJ Idol 7.7: Brouhaha
Dec. 17th, 2010 09:19 pmThe clamorous pounding on the door—relentless yet also somehow hesitant—stopped as if sensing the approach of someone from within. The lock made a sharp noise and the door opened a crack.
"What the—?" said the young man, blinking away the hall light that shone in past the barely open door and through the fingers of his raised hand. "Do you know what time it is?"
"My apologies for the brouhaha," said the man standing on the welcome mat. He was very short, dark, and wore black Nikes, black linen trousers, a black turtleneck tee, and held a pair of black leather gloves in his right hand. He pronounced the syllables of "brouhaha" as three separate words. "My name is Mickey. You Blinky?"
"To my friends," said the young man, and tried smiling, but not hard enough. "What can I do for you that can't wait for morning?" The door opened a few inches wider.
"Well, technically, as it is 3 am, it is morning, but let us not split hairs," said the man in black. He reached into a pocket and took out a piece of paper. "We really need to talk. We're here about this bill for 'costs incurred' you sent to our client."
"I don't understand. What bill? And, uh—we?" said the young man, opening the door even wider to stick his head out to see who else was in the corridor.
"Blinky, meet my associate Vinnie," said Mickey, indicating a big guy with a sunburned face who stood with his shoulder against the wall about a yard from the door. He wore jeans and a maroon-and-yellow tank top, which set off the coiled rattlesnake tattooed on his left bicep. His arms were crossed and he wore black gloves. "Vinnie, Blinky," said Mickey after a beat. Vinnie flared his nostrils in acknowledgment.
"So now that everyone has been introduced," said Mickey, "must we conduct our business on your threshold, like common street peddlers, or can we move our conversation inside?" Whereupon, the man in black extended two fingers from around the gloves in his hand and poked the young man in chest. As the young man rocked backward a few steps, Mickey stepped forward, into the apartment, to maintain his distance. His fingers made contact again and again, until the boy and the man in black were well inside the apartment.
"Hey! C'mon, what's this all about? Leave me alone, or I'll—" said the young man.
"You won't!" said Mickey, grabbing the young man by the arm in the dark. "We must reason together in this matter." Then, back over his shoulder: "Ain't that right, Vinnie?"
Vinnie had followed his partner inside and had closed and locked the door quietly. He made a unintelligible sound that Mickey apparently understood to be an affirmative. Vinnie switched on a light. The young man stood dressed only in a pair of boxers, wincing at the sudden light and trying not to look too hard at his visitors.
"Wh-what's going on? What d-do you guys want?" said the young man.
"This your bill?" said the short man, waving the paper in the youth's face. "The one you sent to your ex?
"Y-yes," said the youth after a moment, nodding slightly.
"Well, it says here the bill's for 'costs incurred during our relationship.' Is that right?"
The youth slowly moved his head up and down.
"And you're serious about this," said Mickey, giving the paper a little shake. "The letters, the phone calls." The young man's head stopped moving and he stood mute.
"So would you agree that—what's it they say?" said Mickey, looking up at the ceiling as if for inspiration, "'what is good for the goose is good for the gander'?"
"Huh?" said the boy.
The short man shook his head in disbelief and looked back at Vinnie. "Some education the kid's got, eh, Vinnie? He dunno that one—college degree an' everything, and he don't know—ain't that something?"
Vinnie gave a little shrug.
Turning back to the kid, Mickey dropped his voice a notch and said, "You gotta figure your ex had some costs in the relationship, too, kid."
The young man said nothing, but swallowed, with some effort.
"So, naturally, you can't expect to be paid the full amount," said Vinnie, speaking to the boy for the first time. Vinnie's voice was unexpectedly deep, smooth, and refined.
The kid looked at Vinnie, then at Mickey. "S-sure," he says, "no problem. I can settle for less." A spark of hope began to glimmer in his voice.
"Well, that's too bad, because see, you can't expect to settle at all," said the short man, as he began to don his black leather gloves. "Especially, considering how your ex incurred one huge cost by hiring Vinnie and me to come here and beat you within an inch of your life."
"Hold still, now, Blinky."
"What the—?" said the young man, blinking away the hall light that shone in past the barely open door and through the fingers of his raised hand. "Do you know what time it is?"
"My apologies for the brouhaha," said the man standing on the welcome mat. He was very short, dark, and wore black Nikes, black linen trousers, a black turtleneck tee, and held a pair of black leather gloves in his right hand. He pronounced the syllables of "brouhaha" as three separate words. "My name is Mickey. You Blinky?"
"To my friends," said the young man, and tried smiling, but not hard enough. "What can I do for you that can't wait for morning?" The door opened a few inches wider.
"Well, technically, as it is 3 am, it is morning, but let us not split hairs," said the man in black. He reached into a pocket and took out a piece of paper. "We really need to talk. We're here about this bill for 'costs incurred' you sent to our client."
"I don't understand. What bill? And, uh—we?" said the young man, opening the door even wider to stick his head out to see who else was in the corridor.
"Blinky, meet my associate Vinnie," said Mickey, indicating a big guy with a sunburned face who stood with his shoulder against the wall about a yard from the door. He wore jeans and a maroon-and-yellow tank top, which set off the coiled rattlesnake tattooed on his left bicep. His arms were crossed and he wore black gloves. "Vinnie, Blinky," said Mickey after a beat. Vinnie flared his nostrils in acknowledgment.
"So now that everyone has been introduced," said Mickey, "must we conduct our business on your threshold, like common street peddlers, or can we move our conversation inside?" Whereupon, the man in black extended two fingers from around the gloves in his hand and poked the young man in chest. As the young man rocked backward a few steps, Mickey stepped forward, into the apartment, to maintain his distance. His fingers made contact again and again, until the boy and the man in black were well inside the apartment.
"Hey! C'mon, what's this all about? Leave me alone, or I'll—" said the young man.
"You won't!" said Mickey, grabbing the young man by the arm in the dark. "We must reason together in this matter." Then, back over his shoulder: "Ain't that right, Vinnie?"
Vinnie had followed his partner inside and had closed and locked the door quietly. He made a unintelligible sound that Mickey apparently understood to be an affirmative. Vinnie switched on a light. The young man stood dressed only in a pair of boxers, wincing at the sudden light and trying not to look too hard at his visitors.
"Wh-what's going on? What d-do you guys want?" said the young man.
"This your bill?" said the short man, waving the paper in the youth's face. "The one you sent to your ex?
"Y-yes," said the youth after a moment, nodding slightly.
"Well, it says here the bill's for 'costs incurred during our relationship.' Is that right?"
The youth slowly moved his head up and down.
"And you're serious about this," said Mickey, giving the paper a little shake. "The letters, the phone calls." The young man's head stopped moving and he stood mute.
"So would you agree that—what's it they say?" said Mickey, looking up at the ceiling as if for inspiration, "'what is good for the goose is good for the gander'?"
"Huh?" said the boy.
The short man shook his head in disbelief and looked back at Vinnie. "Some education the kid's got, eh, Vinnie? He dunno that one—college degree an' everything, and he don't know—ain't that something?"
Vinnie gave a little shrug.
Turning back to the kid, Mickey dropped his voice a notch and said, "You gotta figure your ex had some costs in the relationship, too, kid."
The young man said nothing, but swallowed, with some effort.
"So, naturally, you can't expect to be paid the full amount," said Vinnie, speaking to the boy for the first time. Vinnie's voice was unexpectedly deep, smooth, and refined.
The kid looked at Vinnie, then at Mickey. "S-sure," he says, "no problem. I can settle for less." A spark of hope began to glimmer in his voice.
"Well, that's too bad, because see, you can't expect to settle at all," said the short man, as he began to don his black leather gloves. "Especially, considering how your ex incurred one huge cost by hiring Vinnie and me to come here and beat you within an inch of your life."
"Hold still, now, Blinky."
