Auggie’s eyes were locked on the gun. The guy’s hand was steady on it. He looked really comfortable with that gun. After another heartbeat, Auggie sat.
“See? We’re already off to a great start. Don’t ruin it.” The man bent and grabbed Auggie’s phone; Instagram was still open, and he scrolled through the feed, one eye still on Auggie. “Hey, look at all these likes. I get five likes, tops. I post a picture of a hamburger, my mom likes it, that’s about it. How’d you get so good?”
Auggie’s cheek was starting to sting; he touched his face, checked his fingers, and saw no blood. “What do you want? I don’t have any money. My laptop’s right there, and you’ve already got my phone.”
“I want Robert,” the guy said. He waggled the phone at Auggie. “You know, your buddy from Saturday.”
Auggie stared for what felt like a full minute. “What?”
“Where’s Robert?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
The guy, whom Auggie had started to think of as Glasses, tossed the phone on the bed, and Auggie reached for it. That was a mistake. As soon as he shifted his position, Glasses moved in, grabbed Auggie’s shirt, and punched him once, hard, in the mouth. It wasn’t a slap like earlier; it wasn’t even like the angry, wild punches from Theo on Saturday. This was meant to deliver maximum impact and cause maximum damage. Auggie’s head rocked back, the crown clipping the cement blocks behind him. Blood washed his teeth, his tongue, filling his mouth.
“That was the turning point,” Glasses said. He was breathing harder now. “Did you feel it?”
Auggie swallowed blood. His hand crept across the mattress toward the phone.
“You are goddamn determined to do something stupid, aren’t you?” Glasses said. “Where’s Robert? The next time, it won’t be my hand. You ever been pistol whipped? It does a lot more damage.”
“I don’t know him. We met at that stupid party, and I was drunk, and we took that car. That’s it. When I wrecked the car, he ran off.” The car, Auggie thought. This had to be about the car. That was the only thing that made sense. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the car. I’ll figure out a way to pay you back, I swear to God. He told me it was his car. That’s what he told me. He said it was his. I swear.”
Glasses reached for his gun.
“Jesus Christ,” Auggie shouted, trying to pry Glasses’s hand off him. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know him. I don’t know anything about him.”
“They can do pretty good things with knees these days,” Glasses said, drawing the pistol, settling the muzzle against Auggie’s kneecap. “Replacements, I mean. Pretty amazing stuff. You’ll definitely walk again. You’ll probably walk without a cane. But you’re not going to be playing frisbee on the quad, you know.”
“Please!” Auggie didn’t even recognize his own voice. “I’m trying to tell you, I’m trying.”
“The video,” Glasses said.
“The video,” Auggie repeated.
“The fucking video with Robert getting dragged off. Talk about that.”
Auggie blinked. “That was . . . that was Robert?”
“Fuck this,” Glasses said.
“No, I swear to God, I don’t know. I don’t even know who filmed it. I thought it was just a prank. I thought it was a bad joke. Oh, shit. Shit, man. Please do not do this.”
For a moment, Glasses’s expression was blank. Auggie’s panic had a kind of wild clarity to it. This guy looked like an accountant or a mortgage broker. He looked like he pushed pencils for a living. But the muzzle of the pistol was cold and heavy and real on Auggie’s knee.
“I can find him,” Auggie said. “I can find Robert. Or I can find who posted that video, I mean, and you can . . . you can ask them what happened to Robert. That’s the only thing that makes sense, you know? That’s the only thing you can do. You can talk to them, I can find them, and you can talk to them, and you—”
“Shut up.”
Auggie shut up. Sweat ran down his back. His head was starting to ache where he’d hit the wall, and the punch had reopened the split lip Theo had given him. Blood was cooling on his chin.
“August,” Glasses said, holstering the pistol. “I’m going to be honest. You seem like one dumb shit. I don’t think you can do this. But I’m going to give you a chance. How’s that sound?”
“Thank you. Yes. I will find him. Thank you so much.”
“I want to make sure you understand something, August. Are you listening to me?”
Auggie nodded. The taste of blood was making him sick now; he was worried he might puke.
“August, if you go to the police about this, I will find you, and I will kill you. Do you understand what I just said?”
Auggie nodded.
“Say it.”
“I understand.”
“What am I going to do if you go to the police?”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Do you believe me?”
Auggie couldn’t help it; tears burned the corners of his eyes.
“Say it,” Glasses said.
“I believe you.”
“Good. I’m going to leave now. And you’re probably going to start having some crazy ideas. You’re going to think that the police can keep you safe, or you can run away, or you can ask your family to bail you out, or something really stupid. When that happens, I need you to remember something: I walked right in here without anybody looking at me twice, and I could have killed you and walked away, and nobody would have said boo. I’ll check in with you soon. Please be smart about this, August.” Glasses suddenly smiled, exposing yellowing, uneven teeth. “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”
Then he left, shutting the door behind him.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Auggie grabbed the phone. Then he stared at it. He opened the phone app. He closed it. He opened Facebook. He closed it. He opened Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat. A hundred thousand followers, and nobody he could ask for help.
For a moment, he considered his family. He thought about Fer, who would be busy with work. He thought about Chuy, who would be busy with whatever fuckup he’d gotten himself into now. He thought about his mom, who was on a cruise with Nicholas, the current boyfriend. He could already hear her, hear the mixture of disappointment and exhaustion, as she explained that her youngest was making a scene again.
It was laughable, unbelievably ridiculous, because he knew he should call them. He knew whatever he was involved in, it was worse than anything he’d gotten into before. But he kept hearing Glasses say or ask your family to bail you out, and he pictured Fer, the butt of the pistol cracking across his face.
Auggie staggered into the bathroom. He made sure the door to the other suite was locked, and then he washed his face and rinsed out his mouth, spitting pink water into the basin, where it swirled away into the drain. His eyes stung worse and worse, and then he was sobbing, bent over the sink, his whole body shaking as he tried to be quiet, tried to calm himself down. Bits and pieces of it kept coming back: the humiliating slaps that had driven him across the room, the sudden powerlessness as he was forced onto the bed, the fist cracking against his teeth, the cold steel of the gun against his skin.