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Minimus locked the door behind him. The deadbolt was loose and the chain from the door to the frame itself was flimsy, but the padlock he secured to the provided metal loops helped put him slightly more at ease. Minimus surveyed the motel room. It was filthy. The carpet was spotted with questionable stains and the corners of the rom were grimy with dust and dirt. The only thing that seemed remotely sanitary other than the briefcase he’d brought with him was the prone form of a woman sleeping on the threadbare couch shoved against the far wall. That was Brandy, if the information he’d been given was correct, but that was just as likely to be a pseudonym as it was her legal name. She was beautiful, a stark contrast to their surroundings, but Minimus didn’t allow her to distract him from the task at hand. He needed to thoroughly search the room before they could better squint themselves and attend to the business at hand. It took upwards of three minutes to perform the sweep to his exacting standards. Only then did he turn his full attention to the room’s other occupant.
The young woman woke up gently when roused, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she inhaled slowly. She must only have been dozing. She stretched and gave Minimus a small, easy smile. “I know the drill.” Her voice was low and smooth. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. “Full cavity search?”
Minimus nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
She spread her legs for him, not bothered in the least. “Whatever helps ya relax, sir.”
“I would appreciate it if you removed your clothes as well.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She stripped her dress off and removed her undergarments. Both were lovely, but clearly designed with easy removal in mind. Brandy allowed Minimus to conduct a thorough search of her body, not commenting on his diligence, or whether or not this was a regular part of meetings she held with her clients. She waited until he was done and had nodded, satisfied, before returning to small talk. “S’nice to meecha, sir. Nevah hired me a’fore, right? I don’t forget my clients.”
Minimus moved back to the briefcase he’d left sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have not.”
“D’ya have anythin’ in particular in mind fer the night? Yer contract suggested restraints. I brought some nice leather cuffs unless you’ rather use yer own.”
“I would like to restrain you, if you’re agreeable.” He entered the appropriate code in the locking mechanism and popped the latches open. “I have brought my own.”
“Yessir, jus’ tell me how ya want me.”
Minimus pulled the chair from the small desk out into the middle of the room and gestured for Brandy to sit. She did so without question, settling her forearms against the armrests and spreading her legs to line her calves up with the front legs of the chair. It was obvious that she’d been tied up in this manner before. Still, there was no reason to be unnecessarily rough. Minimus made sure the sturdy ropes he used to bind Brandy to the chair were firm but not painful, checking in with her when he cinched the knots tight and receiving a small smile in return each time. Once she was secured he pulled a length of cloth from his briefcase as well and balled it up to use as a gag. He tapped Brandy’s chin. “Open, please.”
She did so, allowing him to fill her mouth with the gag and watching with interest as he loosened his necktie and used it to tie the gag in place. Her compliance made the process of binding her almost meditative. The terms of the contract he had agreed to before meeting her here allowed far more than Minimus believed was safe, but it did negate any suspicion that would otherwise be garnered by his insistence on extensive restraints.
Minimus stepped back and looked her over critically. “Can you breathe?”
Brandy inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled again before nodding. Her posture was relaxed but attentive.
“Good. I apologize for any discomfort the restraints may cause. I would like to have a discussion with you about our respective reasons for being here, but I cannot have you alerting anyone to our activities.”
She made a questioning noise through the gag.
“I am here because of your employer. Oilslick has been overstepping his bounds with regards to his drug trafficking organization.”
Alarm finally showed on Brandy’s face. A muffled ‘what?’ came through the gag.
Minimus continued. “My family is displeased. I have been sent to make sure he understands their displeasure.”
“No—” The single word was understandable through the wad of fabric in her mouth. It was muffled, but Minimus listened carefully, picking up words as well as he was able. He had plenty of practice in this field of translation. “No, I don’t know nothin’ I don’t know what he—no no no please sir no—”
Minimus cut her off when she devolved into repetitive begging. “You are, unfortunately, the means through which I am meant to send this message.”
“No, no please god no I’ll do anythin’ please—” She was tearing up, her breath coming in progressively shorter and shallower breaths as she began to hyperventilate. “I won’t scream I promise please can we take off the gag an’ talk about this I swear I won’t scream I swear!”
He sighed and crouched in front of the chair. “I am sorry. I cannot allow you to leave.”
Brandy nodded jerkily, tears spilling down her cheeks to stain the tie secured around her head. “Ya can leave me tied up please jus’—the gag please can’t we talk about this, I—“
“Shhh…” Minimus shushed her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “I am willing to listen, but I cannot promise that I won’t hurt you.” She nodded again, smartly silent. The resignation in her eyes was almost moving. Minimus carefully untied the gag and removed the wad of fabric from Brandy’s mouth, keeping both in hand just in case. “Now. What is it you wish to say?”
She took several deep breaths before speaking. “Are ya gonna kill me?” Her voice cracked. “Or is this a photo deal? I don’t mean eventually, I mean now.”
There was no point in lying to her at this point. There was no use in subjecting her to additional threats. “At the moment, I am not here to kill you.”
“Okay. Okay—I got some—some makeup removah? In my purse? Ya can make me sniff test it if ya gotta, or plain alcohol might work jus’ fine, but—but I’m already bruised all over. No bruisin’ required. I’m one big bruise.” She swallowed hard, clearly fighting a lump in her throat. “Ya need blood? We can do some—some blood.” She was making a visible effort to keep herself together. “Ya can—can slice a shoulder, don’t hafta let me up, can use—use the blood to mat my hair. Spread it on my face. It’ll—it’ll look good. It’ll l-look real.” She was choking down sobs now. “I can—can act unconscious. Can even play dead! We don’t—we don’t gotta be—be hasty.”
Minimus watched Brandy dissolve into tears, holding fast to every attempt at bargaining, making every attempt to find a different solution to this problem. Finally he stood and walked over to the small purse sitting on the floor next to the couch. He sorted through it’s contents and quickly found a small bottle of makeup remover. He retrieved a roll of tissue paper from the bathroom and set to work wiping away Brandy’s makeup.
It was immediately clear that she hadn’t been lying about being bruised all over. Her dark skin was a mottled mess of color under her concealer, shades of purple bled into greenish yellow where stages of healing overlapped. The more Minimus wiped away the worse it looked. When he got to her chest and torso there was evidence of fractured ribs and more than a few long, jagged scars in places that suggested she’d undergone several surgeries—but also that she’d been treated by someone conscious of the effect they would have on her appearance. The ropes Minimus had used to bind her in place must have been painful—carefully secured though they were—but Brandy hadn’t flinched or complained once. Minimus was very familiar with injuries of this type, he knew how much effort it too to keep up a façade of full fitness. It was evident that she was used to pain.
Minimus sat back on his heels when he was done. He looked Brandy over critically, evaluating possible next steps.
She was still crying, but it was silent now, almost resigned. “Can—can ya tell me what Slick’s done this time?”
Minimus considered Brandy for a few moments, but really there was nothing to be lost by telling her the truth. “He stole something of great personal value to my family that was being held in trust by one of my uncles. He was aware of its significance when he did so.”
Brandy’s eyes lit up with a flicker of hope. “Can ya describe it? I—maybe I can work out where he stashed it. Maybe I can help get it back. I do most’a his pawning—if he gave it to me to sell, I’ll know who bought it.”
“My great grandmother’s wedding ring. It was a silver plated band with a single stone. Perhaps not worth much from a monetary standpoint, but it is an heirloom.”
“Oh god.” She looked sick. “He asked me to melt that down but I didn’t. Thought it was worth more intact. I—I pawned it, I know who I pawned it to, I can—I can give ya their name—”
He stood and picked up Brandy’s purse again, lifting her phone from one of its pockets. If she was telling the truth, it was possible this night could end without bloodshed. “Would they still have it in their possession?”
“I—I think so? If ya hold my phone to my ear—fuck, ya’ll think I’m callin’ fer help—ya can call him. Put me on to confoim? If he asks?” She shook her head, her expression shifting restlessly between sickness and anger. “Oh god he asked me to melt it down that fuckin’—”
“I will call him. The number, please.”
“It’s—” She stopped short, her breath catching in her chest. “Jus’ so ya know, he’s a former government agent. He buys shit off me all the time though, an’ despite the name he ain’t ratted on me yet. I don’t want that takin’ ya by surprise or thinkin’ it’s a trap.”
Something from the description clicked with Minimus’ memories. “Rattrap.”
“Yessir.” Brandy looked up at him. “Ya know him?”
“We have spoken before, briefly.” They had, though it had been in a completely different context from their current. Rattrap was fully aware of the less than savory machinations that took place in the city around him, but since his retirement a few years before he’d avoided becoming directly involved. Minimus had encountered him in a few legal cases, when the federal department needed to be involved. He was something of a neutral party. He did not, however, have a particularly favorable view of the Ambus family.
“I think he bought it because he’s been datin’ some bartender, but I can get him anothah ring, I can—I can make it work. I don’t got the money he bought it for—it was four hundred dollars—Slick took it. I can earn it back.”
Minimus nodded. He entered the number as Brandy recited it for him and waited while the phone rang. For a few moments it seemed that Rattrap wouldn’t pick up, then then there was a small click and a somewhat familiar voice came over the line.
“Swindle, whatevah it is, it can wait.”
‘Swindle’, not ‘Brandy. It was a discrepancy worth noting. “I’m afraid it cannot.”
Rattrap’s tone shifted immediately. “Who the fuck are ya and why the fuck are ya callin’ me on this number? Where’s Swin?”
He answered the first question and ignored the second. “I am Minimus Ambus, we have spoken before, though briefly. ‘Swin’ has informed me that you are in possession of something I have been tasked to retrieve. An antique wedding ring.” Minimus took the phone away from his ear and changed the call setting to ‘speaker.’ He held it out to Brandy so she could easily be heard.
Her voice wavered tenuously. “H-hey, Rattrap, f-funny story—”
Rattrap’s voice came over as a hiss. “Ya got it from the fuckin’ mob?”
“I got it from Slick who stole it from the mob an’ I’ll do anythin’ jus’ please can I have that ring back.”
“Swin I am five minutes away from givin’ my fuckin’ boyfriend that fuckin’ ring I am holed up in the fancy ass bathroom at this ridiculous restaurant—”
Brandy—Swindle cut off Rattrap’s rising ire quickly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll pay ya back somehow I swear I swear jus’ please I don’t wanna d—” she hesitated and looked at Minimus, choking down a sob.
Minimus stifled a sigh. “Where are you? The restaurant, please.”
“Nuh-uh you are not comin’ near my boyfriend. I’ll meetcha at the corner of Fourth an’ Peters in forty minutes. Deal or no deal? S’gotta be real fuckin’ quick though.”
That location was a good twenty minutes from the motel when running, cutting the timing a bit close. “We will be there.”
“All right. I’m goin’. Oh, one last thing—don’t fuckin’ kill Swin or I’ll slit yer fuckin’ throat. He’s a dirty no good crook but he’s a damn fun guy to be around.”
Minimus noted the use of pronouns but didn’t otherwise acknowledge the threat. It wasn’t worth much aside from the attachment it showed between Rattrap and the individual Minimus held in his custody. “We will see you shortly, Rattrap.”
“Good. Fuck. Swin ya fuckin’ owe me!”
Minimus ended the call and placed the phone in his briefcase. He got to work deftly untying the knots securing Swindle to the chair. “You need to get dressed. Quickly.”
Swindle staggered to his feet and obediently pulled on the dress he’d discarded earlier. “Oh god. I’m so glad I didn’t listen to that piece’a shit.”
“We are short on time. I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to run, but I understand if you feel the need to make an attempt.” Minimus returned the restraints to his briefcase and put on the new, unwrinkled tie he’d brought for later, having expected a need to change his clothes before leaving the motel room. “Have you met Rattrap’s significant other?”
“I have.” Standing and clothed it was somehow even more obvious that very inch of his body was covered in bruises, but the injuries didn’t seem to inhibit his movement. “An’ I know better’n to run, sir.”
“Good.” He unlocked the door, pocketed the lock, and offered Swindle the hand not occupied by his briefcase.
Swindle accepted the offered hand graciously. “Thank you for bein’ reasonable, sir.”
Minimus nodded stiffly and opened the door. They had much work to do, and it needed to be done quickly.
——
It was much later than most stores would be open, and their time was limited. Minimus made several hurried calls before someone picked up, and it was by luck that they were willing to open their doors for him and make a sale. He shed his suit jacket and placed it around Swindle’s shoulders, hiding the worst of the bruises on his body from immediate view. The injuries on his face were still visible, but it was dark and hopefully they wouldn’t come across anyone who bother to look at them too closely.
The owner of the jewelry store, for one, seemed reluctant to make eye contact with either of them. She ushered them inside and closed the door behind them.
“Do you know the ring size?”
“What?”
“The ring.” Minimus elaborated, urging Swindle forward as they followed the owner over to the unlit display cases. “It must be sized properly for Rattrap’s fiancé if he intends to give it to him. Did he mention the sizing?”
“He didn’t, but his fiancé’s a size twelve an’ a half.” Minimus gave him a pointed look and Swindle pulled the coat closer around himself, hiding the lower part of his face in the collar. “We’ve shook hands, I remember that kinda thing.”
Attentive and detail-oriented. And Oilslick was using him for this. “That will expedite matters.”
It was much easier to sort through the appropriately sized rings the jeweler had on hand. Fate favored them with a similarly set engagement ring to the one they were replacing. A silver band with a single stone. Its monetary value far exceeded the heirloom Minimus hoped to retrieve, but its worth paled in comparison.
Swindle held his breath while Minimus made out the check to the jeweler. He was understandably tense. Minimus was, in a sense, buying his life.
Minimus thanked the woman for her time and led Swindle out into the night with precious few minutes to spare. They approached their set meeting place at a walk so brisk it was nearly a run.
Rattrap—illuminated by the stark orange glow of the streetlight on the corner—looked both furious and worried when he saw them. He didn’t leave the safe circle of light to meet them, forcing them to exit the shadows to make the exchange.
He stepped up to them, unafraid, and looked Swindle over critically, tilting his face into the light so the marks were no longer hidden. He sighed with relief. “Oh thank god. S’just bruises. Swin, ya about gave me a damn heart attack.” His gaze hardened when he looked at Minimus. He thrust a small velvet-covered box toward him. “You. Take this damn thing an’ leave my buddy alone, capiche?”
Minimus didn’t deign to respond to the implied threat. He took the ring and pressed his own ring box into Rattrap’s hand in return. “So he will not owe you for the ring.”
Rattrap checked the box. His expression didn’t betray his thoughts on the ring itself. “Is he gonna owe you for this ring instead?”
“No.”
Rattrap looked… dubious. “Swin, if this jackass gives ya any more trouble, drop me a line. I may be retiahd, but I don’t let my friends get knifed.”
Swindle looked up at Minimus instead of responding.
Minimus placed a hand at the small of Swindle’s back and gently urged him into motion, guiding him forward. “Good night, Rattrap.” Swindle glanced furtively at Rattrap but said nothing, his lower lip clamped between his teeth. Once they passed, Minimus heard Rattrap curse and kick a nearby trashcan before the sound of running footsteps disappeared down the street.
It was short work to find a different hotel room for the night. A few miles from where they started out, but similar in almost every way. The rooms were nearly identical aside from the color of the bedspread and the placement of the various unsavory stains they sported. As soon as they were safely inside, Minimus opened his briefcase again. He placed the ring in a small, zippered pouch, and retrieved the extra lock for the door. Once it was properly secured, he turned his attention back to Swindle.
Swindle stood in the middle of the room, waiting. “Do we still gotta—ya know? To threaten Slick?”
“It is for the best if he believes you only told of the location of the ring under extreme duress.” Which was regrettable. Swindle was already in such a poor state.
“Right. Of course.”
“If you are willing to stage a scene, I would much prefer that to injuring you further.”
“Yessir. But Slick don’t—he don’t know I sold the ring stead of meltin it down.” He fidgeted with the edge of Minimus’ jacket, still draped around his shoulders. “I’m guessin—s’just a guess but… I think he sent me here tonight to die to make ya even. Because he didn’t tell me shit, an’ he thought the ring was a lump’a silver an’ a couple’a gems.”
Minimus frowned. “What are you worth to him?”
“To Slick?” He shrugged. “I ain’t worth shit. Who d’ya think beat me like this?”
Minimus studied him for a few moments in silence. If Oilslick truly did not see his worth, Minimus’ family could take advantage of that. “I think you are worth more to him than he realizes.”
Swindle snorted. “He believes in money, so sure. He’d miss having somebody who can take what he dishes out. But he ain’t reasonable an’ decent an’ good hearted like you—if he misses me, s’only bc of what I earned for him.” There it was, the anger Minimus had been expecting from him all night. It wasn’t directed at him because it already had a worthy target. Swindle clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he continued. “He’s nearly killed me hisself a fair few times. He sold me to fuckin’ Overlord fer a snuff fee. Twice! If it wasn’t for an old friend’a mine I’d be dead right now.”
Minimus blinked. Decent. Swindle thought he was decent. He strove to be reasonable in all things, but the additional praise was unexpected, especially considering what Minimus had put Swindle through just tonight. Perhaps it shouldn’t have made his decision on what to do going forward easier, but he nonetheless found himself moved. “Very well. I will find a place for you. We will stay here for tonight.”
Swindle’s anger vanished. He looked taken aback. “Wait. A place? Like—in the family?”
“Yes.” Best to keep Swindle close for now. It would be cleaner to have him disappeared, but that seemed such a waste considering his potential, and Minmus found himself reluctant to carry through on a murder after the events of the night.
“Oh. Oh, wow.” Swindle’s knees visible weakened and he began to sink toward the floor. Minimus stepped forward to catch him before he fell. “Sir, I might need a minute to get my game face back on for when ya fuck me. If that’s awright at least.” He sounded faint. “I can do the makeup again or leave it off.”
Minimus shook his head. He guided Swindle the last few feet to the bed and steadied him as he sat down. “We will not be having sex.”
Swindle gave him a confused look. “…Ya sure? I swear I can pull myself together if ya jus’ gimme three minutes.”
“I am sure.”
His confused expression intensified. “I’m clean, sir, jus’ tested this week. My results are in my purse.”
Minimus did his best to soften his tone. He wasn’t equipped to provide comfort, but perhaps he could better communicate his sincerity. “While I’m sure you are, I have no interest in engaging in sexual relations with you.”
“Oh.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, almost fearfully, “is it cause ya found out I’m trans?”
A valid concern. “No. I have no issue with that. Do you prefer one set of pronouns over the others?”
“I’m a ‘he’, sir.”
“Very well.”
There were a few more moments of tense, confused silence, in which Minimus began his rounds sweeping the hotel room for any listening devices or dangerous items that might be found. It was unlikely, given their spontaneous arrival, but the routine would nonetheless ease his mind. “…can I strip, sir? My bra’s diggin' into a bruised rib.”
“Certainly.” There was the sound of rustling fabric, and the squeak of old mattress springs. A glance showed Swindle lying on his back on the bed, one hand on his chest as he stared blankly at the ceiling. He seemed to be counting his breaths. This had undoubtedly been a rough night for him. Minimus continued his methodical search, leaving him to his thoughts.
Swindle voice floated up from the bed behind him. “I can’t fuckin’ believe Slick told me to melt that ring down.” His voice wavered. “What wouldja have done if I’d listened to him?”
Minimus finished checking under the poorly constructed desk. “I don’t believe it would ease your mind to know.”
“I think it might. I got a big imagination. An’ besides—I like to know what I’m workin’ with.”
“I would have broken both your legs and removed one of your fingers to send to him as a warning, along with a demand for compensation equivalent to what the family considers the true value of the ring. If he did not comply—and it sounds like he would have refused—after the allotted period of time, I would have killed you and framed him for your murder.”
“There’s worse ways to go.” Swindle sighed. “’Least he woulda got framed.”
“It would have been a waste. I am glad the ring was recovered and your death was avoided.”
“A waste?”
“Yes.” The question was clearly meant as a prompt, but Minimus did not wish to elaborate.
“Oh.” It was as much an exhale as it was a word. “Where’m I sleepin’, sir? An’ are ya gonna wanna drug me so’s ya can sleep without worryin’?”
“I will not drug you.” It was worrying on its own that Swindle would offer to be drugged so soon after the admission that Minimus would have killed him. That was a striking lack of self preservation. Minimus set the small table he’d overturned for inspection back on its feet and turned to him. “I do not plan to sleep tonight. As such, you should take the bed.”
“Are ya gonna be in the bed too, or…? Sorry if this is too many questions. Usually I can guess, but this ain’t goin’ like with my other clients.”
“I will not be sharing the bed.” After a moment of hesitation he added, “thank you for offering.”
“I don’t hit if I’m mounted in my sleep.” He offered. He seemed almost to be searching for something, though Minimus didn’t know what. “If. Y’know. That’s ya thing. I guess right now I’m at ya disposal.” He curled onto his side and closed his eyes. “G’night, sir. Thank ya for ya mercy.”
“Goodnight—Swindle, correct?”
“Yessir. I’ll still answer to my given name though.”
“Understood. Goodnight, Swindle.”
“G’night, sir.” He sounded exhausted. “I mean it—I’m real grateful. I ain’t gonna mind if ya take me in my sleep—I owe ya at least my body after that.” His voice trailed off into a slur, and then nothing. The adrenaline of the situation must have finally worn off.
Minimus pulled one of the chairs up to the small table and set his briefcase upon it. He had the ring, but now he had the additional matter of finding for Swindle the security within the family that he hoped to provide. It was late in the evening to begin negotiating asylum, but there was little else to do tonight as he kept watch.