Page 67 of Iron Will
Dammit!I don’t know how we didn’t notice, but he must have followed us here. Turning off the burner in disgust, I throw down the knife and stomp toward the living room, shouting, “Mickey, you get out of my house right n—”
Which is when I come face to face with the barrel of a gun.
Mickey points the thing at me, shoving it toward me. I back up towards the kitchen, almost stumbling on the threshold. When Paisley sees him, she screams again and buries her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“Mickey, what the hell are you doing here?” Bethany yells.
“You shut the fuck up, bitch!” He waves the gun over toward her. I feel sick, half-expecting it to go off any second. Mickey’s an excitable type, but I’ve never seen him like this. His eyes are open far too wide, the whites showing, and his movements are jerky and erratic. He smells like sour sweat.
“You stole my car!” Bethany accuses, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You didn’t fuckin’ bail me out!” Mickey screams. “You didn’t fuckin’ bail me out! You left me in that jail to rot! You fuckin’ bitch! You fuckin’ bitch!”
“Why should I bail you out, Mickey?” Bethany yells right back at him. “You were the one stupid enough to try to steal drugs from a goddamn hospital! We are over, Mickey! I’m not your fucking doormat anymore!”
I’ve never seen her like this, either. For the first time since I met Bethany, she doesn’t seem afraid of Mickey. Which, considering the situation, worries me. It seems evident to me that he could go off at any minute — that this gun in his hand, if it’s loaded, could kill any one of us. Maybe all of us.
I start to feel dizzy. Weakly, I slide into an unoccupied kitchen chair.
“You’re comin’ with me to see Mazur!” Mickey yells at Bethany. “Thanks to you, I had to borrow money from him to bail me out! He’s gonna come after me unless I pay him back.”
“That’s your problem!” Bethany shoots back. “I ain’t got any money anyway! You took everything I had!”
“You’re gonna work it off, bitch,” Mickey seethes, narrowing his eyes. “And you’re gonna start right the fuck now.”
This isn’t going to end well. Mickey’s not going to leave without Bethany. And Bethany, bless her heart, seems to have finally grown the backbone to stand up to him once and for all. Mickey’s eyes are wide and unfocused as he shouts at all of us, the gun in his hand waving wildly. Any second now, his finger could slip. There’s nothing I can do — no way for me to get to him before he’d have time to take aim at me and pull the trigger.
“Mickey.” I cut in, speaking as calmly as I can although my voice is shaking. “You really need to leave now. Take Bethany’s car. You can sell it or something, to get the money. Just leave her and Paisley alone.” I shoot Bethany a look that I hope says,Let’s just say whatever it takes to get him out of here.
But Mickey’s wounded pride seems to have made him almost crazy. “You shut up, you fuckin’ cunt!” he shouts at me. He opens his mouth to say more, but then suddenly stops. Narrowing his eyes, a malicious grin transforms his features.
“You’re comin’ with us,” he sneers. “You and your fuckin’ ATM card.”
Bethany speaks up again. “We are not coming with you, Mickey. I already told you that.”
“Andthissays you are!” Mickey lifts the gun and aims it at her head. At the last second, he raises it, points it at the wall behind her, and fires.
Paisley screams and begins to sob uncontrollably. I stifle the cry that’s lodged in my throat.
“Now get the fuck up and come on!” Micky shouts.
I don’t think we have a choice. We have to go with Mickey. At least for now. I’m no longer sure he won’t use the gun on us if he feels he has to. We’re alone, unarmed. No one will be able to help us. Desperately, I try to think of some way to get us out of this.
And then, suddenly, out of the blue, the ghost of an idea comes to me.
It’s not much of one, but it’s all I have.
Clinging to a desperate hope, I start to move my arm, as slowly as I can, so Mickey won’t notice any movement. He’s pointing the gun at Bethany and Paisley, watching them as they rise from their chairs and come around the table. My eyes still locked on him, I reach into my blazer pocket. I thumb my cell phone ringer to silent, then move to the volume button and hold it until I’m sure it’s down all the way. As Mickey continues to yell at Bethany, I keep my motions as small as possible, slipping the phone out of my pocket. Under the table, I take quick, furtive glances at the screen out of the corner of my eye, until I manage to find the number I want in my contacts, and press it.
I slip my phone back in the pocket, praying Mickey won’t hear it ringing on the other end.
The heel of my hand is over the earpiece, so I barely catch the muffled voice when he answers. I wait a second or two, then take a deep breath and break into Bethany and Mickey’s argument.
“Mickey,” I say loudly, hearing my voice shake. “I know you’re angry at Bethany, but breaking into my house with a loaded gun and threatening us is not the answer.”
“I told you to shut up, bitch!” he spits at me.
I try again, wanting to make sure Rourke can hear what’s happening, and that he knows where we are.