She drew out a cigarette, and Abigail lit it for her with a practiced snap of a silver lighter. Big Mom inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around her, as she weighed my offer.
I held my breath, watching the smoke drift upward, waiting for the verdict. This was it—the moment my life was either extended or violently ended.
Finally, Big Mom exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
"You've managed to buy yourself some time, boy. You've got yourself a deal," she announced, her voice settling on a note of reluctant approval. "But from now on, your miserable life belongs to me."
She turned, taking a couple of steps away, the white suit a stark contrast to the warehouse grime.
"Abigail, set him free.... He won't try anything stupid now."
Abigail nodded, tucking the pistol back into her waistband. She approached my chair and, without touching me, gave a sharp kick to the back of the folding chair. It rattled, a sound that felt like the snapping of chains.
"You heard the boss, Druski," Abigail said, her eyes calculating. "Get up."
I rose slowly, my entire body stiff from tension and the earlier slap. I was free of the chair, but now I was bound by an enormous debt to a beautiful, ruthless crime boss.
Big Mom paused at the door. "You have thirty days, Druski. Thirty days to prove that that backpack holds an 'empire' and not just a foolish man's dream. If you fail to generate the revenue you promised, four hundred thousand dollars' worth of repayment, I'll know you lied. And Abigail will handle your payment plan personally."
She didn't wait for a response, disappearing through the interior door with Abigail following close behind.
I was alone again, left with the silence, the smell of burnt cordite, and my backpack containing my only leverage. I had survived. Now, I had to build an empire, and fast.
I reached for my backpack, pulling it onto my lap. I was alive, and I had my computer. I needed to get back to the motel and start generating revenue immediately. I had just 30 days to save my own life.
"Yo, you ready to bounce or what?" The Black Bald guard said as soon as he came back inside the warehouse.
I looked up at him, momentarily confused, then remembering Big Mom's decree. "Boss wants me to escort you."
This was the first time the guy had ever spoken to me. He had ignored me all day, standing silently like a mountain. He had a look on his face, probably asking himself why I was still alive.
"Yeah. Let's go," I said, grabbing my backpack. The sudden transition from execution target to protected, albeit indebted—asset was jarring.
---------
The Black Bald guy drove a Ford F-150 Raptor, and I was soon to discover that he was not quiet at all. He talked a huge deal, filling the cabin with chatter as we drove out of the industrial complex.
"Name's Two-bit," he said as he drove.
"What? Is that even a real name?" I said, genuinely baffled.
"Sound like a joke to you?" Two-bit countered, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
"Nuh, not at all. It's just that I never heard a name like that before," I clarified, hoping to avoid another slap.
He laughed—a big, booming laugh that matched his size. "It's not a real name, of course. My momma certainly never named me Two-bit. I gifted the name to myself. Creative, don't you think?"
"What does it mean?" I asked him, trying to figure out what was creative in naming yourself after a negligible amount of money.
"I don't fucking know, I just thought it was funny and easy to remember," he laughed again. "Niggas scream every time when they hear the name Two-bit."
I didn't think they did. He was big, of course, but hearing him speak had changed the first impression I had of him. He was the type of guy you just couldn't take seriously. But being one of Big Mom's top guards meant that he was a force to be reckoned with, no matter his personality.
"I gotta admit, you are a lucky man. You cost Big Mom four hundred thousand dollars and complimented her beauty and still got to keep your balls. Any other nigger would have got his dick chopped off or killed on the spot," Two-bit said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I didn't think I was gonna make it either," I said with a nervous chuckle, the lingering fear making my voice tight.
"You must have used some strong voodoo to unfuck yourself from this situation. I done seen plenty people die for owing only a thousand dollars," he confirmed, emphasizing the gravity of my escape.
"Luck, man, it's just luck," I said, leaning back. I knew it wasn't luck; it was pure Swagger, but letting him think I was a mystical anomaly might keep me safer than revealing I was a sharp negotiator.
I saw Two-bit looking over from the mirror. "So how does it feel....being a porn star?"
I almost jumped from my seat. "What?"
"We've all seen your videos. Gregory showed me one of your videos..."
"Gregory?" I asked.
"The guy you got Big Mom to shoot," Two-bit corrected himself, referencing Ginger Beard who was now nursing a bullet wound. "The guy who was supposed to be guarding you."
"Ohhh..."
Word that I had become a porn star had traveled real quick it seemed.
"It's not a big deal," I said, trying to brush him off, my cheeks feeling hot.
"No fucking way, with that girl I saw you fucking. Sasha, right? She had the nicest pussy I have ever seen... She really made me wanna jerk off," he laughed, loudly and crassly.
I didn't answer, I just managed a weak smile. The Raptor pulled up to my safehouse—my actual house, the place I thought I had left behind for the motel. Big Mom clearly wanted me where she knew I'd be. I got off the car.
"Hey, man," Two-bit called after me, his voice suddenly serious.
I turned. He was looking out of the window, his large frame suddenly still. "You know you made a deal with the Devil just now, right? You gave up your soul to the white suit."
"See you, man," I said, ignoring the heavy truth of his statement. But I knew that there was some truth in what he'd said.
If the devil didn't own me, then Big Mom did.