Pandora's Box

It was my last work shift in a small coffee shop the week before Christmas. I had finished my midterms the week prior, and planned to drive to my parents house two hours away tonight after work. It was Tuesday, so I knew I could leave early after closing at 9 PM and be home before midnight. I had the help of one of the managers, Tom.

We had no customers after 7:30, and I spent the next half hour cleaning & re-stocking inventory in preparation for the morning crew. Around 8:30 PM, a man walked into the store. He was well- dressed, a black coat draped over his muscular arm. A small black gift bag hung by his side. His hair was dark, styled, his face stubbled with a 5 o’clock shadow. His dark eyes were piercing when he glanced at me.

He sat in an oversized chair in the lobby, pulling his phone out of the jacket pocket and checking it briefly before staring out the darkened window.

“No”, he replied gruffly, when I asked if I could get him a drink. I found myself needlessly annoyed by this, as serving him a drink would mean I had another dish to clean before closing.

“Okay, well, if you decide you want something, we close in 30 minutes, so just let me know before then.” I made little effort to hide the irritation in my voice, unsure what it was about this man that bothered me.

He turned his gaze from the window, eyes appraising me for a long moment.

“Single espresso”, he replied, his eyes twinkling as he smiled in amusement. My eyes locked with his, and I was rooted to my spot.

I willed myself to break my eyes away from his, turning to walk behind the counter. I returned a few minutes later, setting the porcelain espresso cup on the table in front of him. He didn’t break his gaze as he handed me cash.

“Thank you”, he said simply, never averting his eyes. I felt very uncomfortable.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” I replied nervously, my voice catching in my throat.

“I’ll let you know” was his reply, his eyes burning into mine as he examined my face. I turned away to go back to my closing duties without a word, my face burning in embarrassment, a tickling sensation of fear at the edge of my brain. I felt his eyes roaming over my slender body as I walked away. I stayed behind the counter to avoid him. After fifteen minutes, the chime above the door jingled. I saw him putting on his coat as he exited. I was relieved to see him leave.

He stood in the moonlight outside, on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the newspaper machine. He looked calmly to the left, then the right, then directly down in front of him as he reached inside the machine before moving quickly to the edge of the sidewalk. My curiosity was piqued. The newspaper machine hadn’t worked for months.

A black SUV pulled up to the curb. The man turned once more to peer at me through the window. I froze. He didn’t have a newspaper in his hands. Red brake lights glowed in the darkness. A man emerged from the driver’s seat, opened the back door for the mystery man, then closed the door firmly before returning to the driver's seat. I watched the car leave, my curiosity even more overwhelming than earlier.

Thirty minutes later, the shop was closed; and Tom and I left. Setting the alarm, he locked the front door as I waited outside for him. I had already shuffled into my coat, bundling myself against the bracing cold. Tom grumbled a goodnight, walking away & lighting a cigarette as he disappeared around the corner.

I stood frozen with indecision. My car parked at the end of the block to my left, the newspaper box directly in front of me. I was shaking hard, whether from the cold or the trepidation I felt, I was unsure. I wanted desperately to be in my car, warming up as the heater was on full blast. I hesitated another moment, then quickly moved around to the front of the box to look inside. Within the shadows of the empty metal box was the outline of the black bag. I looked around the empty street; but seeing no signs of any cars, or any person for that matter, I turned my attention back to the mystery bag inside. Tentatively, I reached and pulled down the lid slowly, the metal creaking in protest.

I could see stacks of bills inside, the moonlight reflecting off the corner of one of them. The metallic reflection read “$100”. My curiosity not yet sated, a blast of wind reminding me of my limitations, I grabbed the bag and raced back to my car. I unlocked the door as fast as my frozen fingers allowed, clambered into the front seat, and dumped the contents of the bag onto the seat.

There were two stacks of money, each bound with a rubber band. I unbound them and began counting. Unsure I had counted correctly, I recounted twice more. Twenty thousand dollars! I sat in my car, shrouded in darkness, staring at the money. I had never seen so much cash in my life. A multitude of questions repeatedly turned over in my mind. I began shaking again, this time from more than the blistering cold. My mind was in turmoil. I knew I should put the bag back. This must be part of a drug deal, or something more nefarious.

Maybe I should take the money to the police, tell them everything. Then I had another thought: what if I kept the money? When I was counting it, I didn’t see any markers in the bag or the cash to indicate it could be traced. This amount would pay for a full year of school, which would take the burden off my parents for a bit. Though how I would explain where I found the money, I had no idea.

I was about to drive away when suddenly my door opened and rough hands were grabbing at me. It was the driver from earlier. I had been so lost in thought as I counted the money, I didn’t see him approaching my car. Pulled quickly back into reality, I began fighting him off. He pulled me from the front seat as though I weighed nothing to him, slamming me against the side of the vehicle. He clamped a heavy hand over my mouth, holding a cloth. I struggled to get away for a few moments before everything went dark.

____________________________________________________________________________

I awoke slowly, my dead fuzzy & disoriented. I was laying on the ground, cold concrete making my side numb. As I opened my eyes, I could see dark shoes a few feet away.

“Good morning”, said a familiar voice. Someone behind me jerked my body into a sitting position. I jumped from the roughness of being jolted from my slumber, my mind reeling to understand where I was and what was happening. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and looked up. The man from the coffee shop. He was leaning against a table directly behind him. A window behind him showed me it was early morning.

“Who are you?”, I mumbled groggily.

“No, I ask the questions. You answer them.” he interjected.

He reached to the table behind him and produced the little black bag.

“I found this in your car. You took it from the newspaper bin.”

I nodded.

“Why did you take it?” he asked.

I hesitated to answer, before the man behind me slapped me in the side of the head. My ear started ringing from the blow.

“I don’t know why I took it.” His eyes narrowed in warning before I went on.

“I saw the bag of money, I didn’t know what to do. I took it to my car and counted it, then I was too afraid to get out of my car and put it back.”

“So you saw the money and thought you’d keep it.”

“No, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I thought a little about keeping it. I also thought about taking it to the cops. But I decided to wait until morning to decide what to do.” I admitted.

He smirked at my answer.

“You were going to take it to the cops? What good would that do. You don’t even know what it’s for.”

I hesitated before answering, “I thought maybe it was for a drug deal, I wasn’t sure though.”

“You stole my money, it’s as simple as that. I should cut off all your fingers and then put a bullet in the back of your head. That’s how I usually handle thieves. I dropped off the money and waited to make sure he got the bag, otherwise I wouldn’t get my shipment tomorrow.”

“Your shipment… of what?” I was afraid to ask, but the words jumbled out before I could stop them.

“I own a brothel in the city. Occasionally I change out some of my inventory, for one reason or another. I just bought four new girls. That’s what the $20,000 is for. I pay $5,000 for each new girl and then multiply my profit over the next several months. Usually I can make over $50,000 per girl every six months. And then you stumbled across my path and threw a wrench in my plans. Now I have to set up a new time to get my shipment, thanks to you.”

I felt sick, from what I was hearing and from the effects of the drugs they had given me.

“Look, I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I never should have taken the money. You can let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone anything. Please let me go!”

“I don’t think you fully understand your situation. I wasn’t telling you this so you can leave with the knowledge. You interfered in my business. You’re not going anywhere.”

I started shaking again, the pit of fear in my stomach growing with each passing second.

“You really have no idea what you’ve walked in to, do you?”

When I didn’t respond, the man behind me walked forward and handed my interrogator a little black book, as well as what appeared to be my wallet. I wondered where my purse was; I wanted my phone, not that it would do me any good at this point.

He flipped open my wallet. “Well, Liz van Houten. I’m Antonio Bellucci. Everyone calls me Tony. My driver is Luca. He runs the brothel I own.”

He tossed my wallet on the table and walked forward with the black book, holding it open in front of me. I could see the names of women scribbled on the pages. There were about 10 names on the page I was looking at. Next to each of the names were dates and dollar amounts.

I wondered how many names were on previous pages. I didn’t ask, I just waited as my panicked mind tried to think of an escape route. There was none that I could see. There was a door directly to my left, though I doubted I could make it there before one of them caught me. I also had no idea where I was or where to go from there.

Luca handed Tony a pen, and he began writing in the book, then once again held it in front of my face.

Liz van Houten- December 19th, 2016- $20,000

_______________________

Tony was my first client during that first hellish week. He came to see me once or twice a week after that. “Quality Control,” he called it.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months, before I stopped counting.