Fall With Me

first things we go over.” She skips off. I watch, feeling a thread of tension slip its way in between my shoulder blades.
    Shake it off, I tell myself. This is nothing to get upset over.
    Okay, so maybe it’s not what I was expecting. But she’s their daughter, and it’s a minor change in the grand scheme of things, really. And I honestly doubt she’ll last more than a week if she has to get up early to do chores.
    I can handle this.
     

Chapter 3: Griffin
     
    Being shut up in this tiny space is something like being in one of those sensory deprivation tanks. I start seeing things in the darkness, little bursts of color, like tiny fireworks. I wonder if it’s because I’ve been closed up in here or it’s just a lingering effect of the LSD.
    There’s a gentle rocking motion. It’s enough to lull you back to sleep, but that’s impossible right now; I’ve been swimming the depths of unconsciousness for so long that my muscles feel as though they’ve got electric currents running through them. I never was one who was good at staying still.
    So I get up. I touch the walls, which are glossy wood. I knock into a pole that’s hanging horizontally along one of the walls and I realize I am in a walk-in closet. Above me, I can hear the two guys talking, though I can’t understand what they’re saying. I go over and stand under where it sounds like they are and I hit the ceiling a few times with my fist.
    “Hey fellas!” I shout. “I’d like to come out of the closet now.”
    It’s a pathetic joke, but I smile anyway. I’ve always been good at cracking myself up and, occasionally, other people, too.
    To my surprise, the door opens. It’s Snaggletooth, who stands there, holding the door handle, letting a shaft of pale yellow light into the room. He stares at me, eyes narrowed.
    “Have I accrued enough good behavior points to warrant a trip on deck?” I ask.
    “You’re going to do something for us,” he says. He pushes the door open the rest of the way.
    “Okay.” I smile as I walk past him. “That was a joke about coming out of the closet, though. I’m not gay.”
    He shoves me. “We’re not fucking fags!” he shouts. “That’s not what you’re going to do for us. Jesus.”
    I’m in a bedroom. There’s a queen-sized bed flanked by two mahogany side tables. There is a mirror on the ceiling.
    “Nice touch,” I say, looking up at it.
    We go up on deck. The other guy is up there, pacing, drinking a can of PBR.
    “Stay classy,” I say, nodding at the beer. Actually, I wouldn’t mind one of those right now myself. It does feel nice to be out, though. I walk over and take a piss off the side of the boat. The boat, it turns out, is not the seventy-foot pirate vessel I’d imagined, but rather, a mere forty-foot cruiser, similar to the one my old man had before he upgraded. “My dad had a boat like this. It was bigger.”
    “Then your dad shouldn’t have any trouble paying your ransom,” says Bandana.
    I shrug and look out toward the horizon. Nothing but blue sky, blue water. Sun straight overhead. “He’s kind of an asshole, if you want to know the truth. If you’re so eager for money, it probably would’ve been better to choose a man whose paternal leanings ran a bit deeper.”
    “Your father doesn’t seem to want to take this matter as seriously as he should,” Snaggletooth says. “He seems, in fact, to think it’s a hoax. A ruse. A prank that maybe you are in on. So you’re going to call him and tell him otherwise.”
    There’s only the two of them, as far as I can tell, Snaggletooth and Bandana. I try to piece together how this might’ve all gone down, but it’s just one big blank, like that part of my memory was erased entirely.
    “And it’s not just the money,” Snaggletooth continues. “That’s part of it. But my boss wants something else from your dad, too. A confession, of sorts.”
    I snort. “A confession? To what? Being a giant asshole? Good luck with that one, buddy.”
    He pulls a phone out of his pocket. “Call him.”
    “I don’t know his phone number.” This is actually the truth. I never have to call him, and even if I did, I’d just go to the listing under contacts and press the call button. Dad’s number is programmed in my phone under Asshat , which, on the rare occasion he does call me, always gives me a smile when Asshat Calling shows up on the screen.
    “Just press call ,” Snaggletooth snaps. I wonder whose phone this is. I press call