Jennifer Longo - Six Feet Over It

Yeah. He’s here to help. The service of holding people for petty ransom. I’m terrified, but I also want to punch him in the face—him and the jerks still standing on the patio guarding the dark doorway.

But what can I do? And where is Dario?

“Verlos primero,” I demand. “Ambos de ellos.”

Samuel shakes his head. Money first, he says. Then I see Dario and Ana.

“We’re done.” I spit. English. “No way.”

I walk blindly once more to the truck, pushing tears of frustration off my face. Elanor unlocks the door, shoves it open, and moves back so I can climb in.

“What was that ?” she whispers. “Who are those guys, are you okay, where is Dario, do they have guns, do you think they have guns ?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “I don’t think so. They’re just acting like punks. Hold on a second….”

“Lady!” Samuel runs to the truck. Right on cue.

“Lock the door!” Elanor screeches, full voice.

“¡Señora!” Samuel says through the open window. “¿Tienes el dinero?” Do you have the money?

“No,” I growl. “No! Not until I see Dario and Ana. No hasta que veo Dario y Ana. ”

He drops his head back, his arms in the air.

“Okay! Okay, ambos. Ambos equipos al mismo tiempo, tú nos mostrarás el dinero, yo te mostraré Dario. ”

What the hell is this, showdown at the O.K. Corral? I show him the money, he shows me Dario?

“Dario and Ana,” I bark.

“ Yes, sí, por supuesto, Ana también. Dario y Ana juntos.”

“Fine,” I say. “Los trae afuera.” Bring them out.

He nods, all smiley and amused, then pushes past the two “friends” still dicking around in the doorway, back inside the house.

Elanor looks really, really pale. “What’s going on? What’s he saying? What are we doing?”

I grab my bag, tucked behind the Last Supper. “Money,” I whisper, grabbing the Pre-Need envelope of surplus icing-on-the-cake cash.

“How much?”

“I don’t—Oh God, I don’t know, he didn’t say!”

“You didn’t ask ?”

“I didn’t think. I’ve never paid a ransom before!”

“ Ransom? What is going on?”

“I don’t know !”

“What are they going to do if you don’t—if it’s not enough?” Elanor looks toward the house. “This isn’t good. All those guys. What about Ana?”

Oh God.

“No,” she says. “No, I’m sure it’s okay. Dario’s with her. It’s… just don’t show them all of it, in case they want more. Start with—Here.” She pulls out some fives, a wad of twenties. “Got anything bigger? Put it on top.”

“What?”

“Just do it!”

There are fifties. Some hundreds. We stack a bunch, roll it all into a cash sausage, and snap a pink rubber band around it.

“Feels good,” she says. “It’s got heft. Right?”

“I don’t know!”

“No,” she says. “It’s good. It is.”

“How do you know how to do this?”

“Movies. It’s homeschool, not solitary confinement. Cripes!”

“You think?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yes. Put it in your sleeve.” Some color is flooding back to her face. “Let’s go.” She opens the passenger door.

“No! No way.”

But she’s out. Fearless.

“Elanor,” I beg, “get back in the truck. Please!”

“I’ll just stand there and say nothing; they don’t know how much I understand. I’m another pair of eyes, a witness. Let’s go. ”

“No.”

“Let me help you.”

“No!”

“Leigh, it’s the middle of the day next to a bounce house; it’s not like we’re skulking around the seedy underbelly of Tijuana hiding from the border patrol. Let’s go !”

True. Still.

“Also,” she says, “Danger is my middle name.”

She swings the door shut and marches through the chain-link gate. I run to catch up and pull her back to the curb.

“We’ll stay on the sidewalk,” I pant. “Out in the open. Yeah?”

She nods. Firmly astride in the boots, arms crossed. Pissed. Glaring at the doorway lackeys. All four feet, ten inches of her.

I stand beside her in my jeans, both of us boiling in the sun, trying to look intimidating. Or at least not terrified.

The doorway jerks laugh.

We wait.

Kids arrive for the bounce house party. Music starts up. Madonna.

Elanor stifles nervous laughter. “This is ridiculous,” she murmurs. “If we get ourselves and Dario out of this alive… I don’t know what.”

“We’ll do something fun,” I say. “I promise. Anything you want. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Samuel is on the porch. “Well?” he yells over Madonna. “¿Tienes el dinero?” He narrows his gaze at Elanor. “¿Quién es este?”

“This is my sister,” I say in Spanish. “Our father is a police officer, so keep your hands where I can see them. You’ll get the money when we see Dario.”

He and the Jerks exchange bemused looks. They laugh, raise their hands. “Los padres de todo el mundo son policías.” Samuel smiles.

Yeah, I’m sure everyone he knows does claim their dad is a police officer, probably because he’s always trying to pull illegal crap on people. I am so sick of this guy.

“¿Dónde están Dario y Ana?” I yell back. “¡Vamos a conseguir este programa en la carretera!” Let’s get this show on the road!

In the periphery, Elanor’s mouth drops open.

“What?” I hiss.

“Your Spanish is amazing!”

“Están adentro,” Samuel calls. He beckons us into the house. “Entra y vamos a hacer esto.”

Inside the house? With you, Samuel?

Elanor clutches my arm.

“No,” I say, everything in me desperately straining to be calm. “Absolutamente no. Lo hacemos afuera, aquí, que los sacó, te mostraré el dinero, lo hacemos todo juntos. Como dijiste.” Everything outside, both at once, just like you said.

Adriel leans from the doorway, whispers to Samuel.

“Hey!” Elanor shouts. She grabs my sleeve, pulls the cash out. “Look!” she says, holding it above her head. “We’ve got it. There’s a lot here. It’s legit!”

“Legit?” I am light-headed.

But all three guys look up. Elanor nudges me, eyes wide.

“Yes!” I yell. “ ¡Los trae afuera! It’s yours if you want it. Just bring them out.”

And then, before my spinning head understands what she’s doing, Elanor peels off one of the hundreds from the rubber-banded bundle, wads it up, and throws it at the men. Like tossing a stick to a fetching dog.

My heart stops.

Samuel strolls casually where the bill lands on the white rocks. Picks it up. Uncrumples it. Passes it to the Jerks.

He stays rooted in the shade of the porch. Considers us for several very long seconds. He and the Jerks whisper to one another. Madonna is yammering about having a holiday, and kids are laughing, shouting in the bounce house.

Samuel folds the hundred into his shirt pocket, then disappears once more inside the house.

We barely breathe.

And then Dario is here. They are here.

They come blinking from the dark recesses of the house. Samuel’s hand is on Dario’s shoulder. Don’t touch him, I want to snarl, but I wait. Elanor and I wait.

Ana—who must be Ana—is holding Dario’s hand.

My chest clenches tight, then floods entirely with unbelievable relief, like that surreal moment the doctors said at last Kai would not die.

He is here. They are here. They are not dead.