Название | Risen From Prison |
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Автор произведения | Bosco H. C. Poon |
Жанр | Биографии и Мемуары |
Серия | |
Издательство | Биографии и Мемуары |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781988928265 |
“I’m dead serious, no joke! And the loan shark doesn’t play around. He sent people to chase after me already. Luckily I’m still on good terms with them, but now I have less than a month to fix this.”
“Your buddy was a loan shark?! Why get yourself into this kinda situation over and over?”
“I know I screwed up again, but man, this is no time for lecturing. I need your help. You don’t wanna see me being chopped in half, do you?
“I ain’t got no 30Gs, man!”
“But you have a house. I’m gonna do a run, just need a place to store the stuff. I’ll be fine after this run. Lend me the house key for a few days, and I’ll make sure to pay you your cut.”
“The house is my parents’, not mine. I can’t just let you use it for a few days.”
“Come on, bro, you wanna see me die? Make up some stories, man. Right, tell them I’m doing a music project and I need the basement to do some recordings. I’ll pay them good rent. Trust me, it’ll work. You’ll get some money to upgrade your wardrobe too. Some new T-shirts and jeans, you know. Just help me, please.”
“Why do you have to put me through this kinda crap? I’m already super stressed. I hate this. Umm … let me see what I can do. I’ll give you a call later.”
“I have your word? Don’t play me, man. Remember, the loan shark is after me. I got no time to waste.”
“You really ain’t making my life easier, man … all right—”
“You’re the best bro ever! What do I do without you? I’ll be waiting for your call. Thanks!”
Looking back, I’m not sure why I even considered helping him out, but I guess I didn’t want to see him being sliced into pieces by the loan shark. So I lied to my parents and got their permission to rent out the house. With an over-occupied mind, I didn’t bother to think what Blade was going to do with the house that could net him 30Gs in a few days. Obviously something illegal. Maybe trunkloads of cigarettes from Mexico. Or boxes of ecstasy from some home lab. I didn’t care. All I wanted was to do him one more favour so that he would leave me alone and keep his troubles away from me. A week later, during a social gathering, I handed over the house key to Blade.
I overheard a conversation about “kidnapping” someone and setting a ransom to generate some quick cash. I had a bad feeling about it, but I was busy writing and producing music, and my time was all occupied. Besides, I didn’t really believe he’d follow through on such a stupid plan.
Little did I know I would regret my deliberate ignorance, because it was about to turn really ugly.
The colours of spring had arrived, and blooms were everywhere. I’d be walking down the street and find myself in a pocket of warm air laced with the beautiful smell of hyacinth. As I strolled around that spring, every time a plane flew overhead I would imagine myself heading out on tour. Some local production houses were hiring my music crew “Syndicate” to perform at local events throughout the coming summer, and two different overseas record labels, EMI and Universal Music Taiwan, were interviewing us about the possibility of an album. It was promising to be the best season yet, and I was really looking forward to the experience. I felt my time had arrived.
There would be no such luck. Although I had caught snippets of ominous-sounding conversations, all along I thought that Blade and his buddies were just blowing smoke. They wouldn’t really do anything that stupid, would they? They’re just trying to get attention from each other, I thought. They had bragged about all kinds of stuff they never had the guts to follow through with … lots of times. Why would this be any different? When they were high they would even plan stunts like you’d see in the movie Jackass or on the TV show The Dudesons—but nothing ever came of it. Besides, there was a lot going on in my world. I had a ton of stuff on my mind and no time to burden myself trying to crawl into their heads. I just hoped that they would stop bothering me after I did them this one favour.
To my surprise, a few days later Blade phoned me. “Hey, Boz, how you doing, bro?” There was no indication of any urgency in the greeting.
“Fine. What do you want? I’m kinda busy right now,” I replied.
“Oh, nothing terribly important … just thought you’d like to know that we’ve got our ‘package’ stored in your basement, that’s all.”
Package? What does he mean, a person? They went through with it? I felt panic rising in my heart. My knees started to shake. With a swallow I took a deep breath and gathered enough composure to ask, “Why … why are you telling me this?” Maybe I was still hoping that this whole thing was just another one of their puerile jokes. “And what do you want me to do about it?”
“Well, you know, it’s like this. We need you to keep your folks away from the house for couple more days. Understand? They can’t go over for any reason. Just make sure of it, okay?”
“What are you trying to say?” I blurted, still not fully accepting what I was hearing.
“You heard me,” he said. “Just come to the house right now and I’ll show you what we mean—in person.”
He didn’t have to say any more. I got it. I was now an accomplice to kidnapping. This was not good.
I was in the studio at the time. One of my music partners shot a glance in my direction as I hung up. They must have seen me going pale or noticed the sweat accumulating on my forehead—and now running down my eyebrows. The look on their faces told me that they knew something was dreadfully wrong. Silently I waited for them to finish the session. I then got in my car, started the engine, and let it idle while I thought about what I should do. Coming after me, Julian knocked on the passenger side window to see if I was all right. I was so confused that I couldn’t even respond. All I cared about at that moment was to get my parents’ house back. I turned to give him a half-hearted smile and a peace sign, then stepped on the gas. That was the last I saw of any of them for a while.
My heart was bouncing around in my chest as I sped out to Coquitlam. Every time I saw a cop car my hands would tremble so terribly I would have to grip the steering wheel just to keep them still. After 40 minutes, I arrived at the house. As I pulled into the driveway Blade was waiting for me at the door, and he immediately stepped outside to greet me. He was flanked by two of his men. One was a tall dark-haired muscular Caucasian wearing black-rimmed glasses, and the other one was a skinny short-haired Asian with the butt of a handgun peering out of his left pocket. I didn’t know either of them, and I didn’t like what I was seeing.
“Ahh, there you are! The MAN is finally here!”
“What’s going on, Blade? This is way beyond what I can handle.”
“What? You want to chicken out now? Relax, buddy, everything is gonna be fine. We’ll get our money, and you’ll get your cut as promised. We won’t hurt him. All we want is cash. That’s all!”
“But Blade, what if—”
“Shh! Help us get this job done, and we’ll all walk away! I need the money! You know that. We’ll get what we want, and you’ll get your house back plus a little bonus in your pocket. It’s a win-win. Now get in the house!” He was getting impatient.
The two men escorted me inside, filling me in on the rest of the plan as we went. I just marched along, silently stunned. They weren’t calm. Everyone involved was very much on edge, like hungry jackals prowling for a meal: aggressive and anxious. It felt like they were going to do anything they needed to. They made it very clear to me that I had no choice but to comply with their wishes.
They spent the ensuing hours on the phone and made arrangements with the other wing of the operation, cussing incessantly, cigarette after cigarette. Blade gave me orders to guard the front door while they took care of business. He also warned me of the consequences if I did anything stupid. The other guys in the room seemed amused by my agitation, snickering and almost looking down their noses at me.