Day 144 - Rikard

 Rikard

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

It had been a long lonely night, Rikard was exhausted, but he didn’t want to go home. He dropped the girls off at the hotel, collected his money, and decided to go drink some of that away. Home wasn’t really a home; it was the back room at his mother’s chicken restaurant. Mostly run by him and his adopted brother Vik. Rikard usually handled lunch and Vik ran things at night. Their mother mostly sat in her room. She had mostly stopped cooking five years ago. It should have been before then, but the brothers didn’t have the heart to tell her no. They, and the other cooks and staff, watched her like hawks and made sure no food ever burned or anything worse. Rikard had been handling the money and books for a decade. He and Vik had moments of conflict, but they were mostly agreeable. Vik had been adopted at the age of five, or close to it. A runaway, it was to tell his exact age. Rikard was about a year old, but they were close enough in school and with friends that they always got along. Vik loved his mother as if she were his biological one and stuck around the restaurant for his entire adult life. Rikard wouldn’t have faulted him if he had left, but he respected Vik’s commitment. Helping take care of an aging woman that wasn’t a blood relative was commendable. But even the most dedicated person needed a night off now and then.

Two years earlier Vik had started taking odd jobs around the neighborhood. As chicken sales declined, the extra money helped. Rikard didn’t ask too many questions, just if there was more money to be made. He should have asked more questions. Soon Rikard was working several days a week at the docks, unloading shipments. It was obvious from the men involved and the secretive cargo being unloaded, it was now too late to ask questions. He pretended at first that he didn’t hear the noises coming from inside certain shipping containers. He couldn’t pretend any longer when management promoted him and it was his job to help take care of the contents. Women. It was always women. At first, Rikard just had to drive them from the docks to the hotel, and never talk to them and never ask questions. Sometimes all the women went to one hotel, sometimes they were sent all over town. Sometimes a stranger would come to view them and a few of the women would leave with them.

Rikard didn’t ask questions of his bosses, but he asked Vik. Vik was aware. Strong and athletic, Vik had been given a part time job as a bouncer. Then a bodyguard. Then a driver for certain high-end girls. Rikard asked how much that paid. He never knew the right and wrong time to keep his mouth shut.

Rikard had been driving for five months now. He had heard tears and screams and much worse. He had seen bruises and blood, but was told it was expected and clients had paid for that. Once, and only once he had to beat a man who hadn’t paid properly in advance.

He asked Vik if he had ever beat a man and Vik looked the other way. He asked if he had killed anyone and Vik was silent.

Neither man looked at their mother the same after that.

There had been a spat of violence and his bosses shut things down for a few weeks. Rikard spent his time chopping and cooking chicken and found it more enjoyable than he ever thought possible. Tonight, was his first night back driving women. It had been pouring rain earlier when he delivered a carload of women to a karaoke club. Supposedly they were there to sing and entertain and make sure rich businessmen had a good time. Certain private karaoke rooms had certain private doors and behind those doors were private beds. Rikard had never sung karaoke and needed a bed before. But he didn’t ask questions. It wasn’t like he needed to anyway.

One drink became two and that kept going. He didn’t want to see his mother. He didn’t want to look her in the eyes. He would probably break down in tears. She was probably asleep. She slept so much now. Vik could close the restaurant. He could look after their mother. It was his night to do so anyway, and Rikard couldn’t make himself leave.

After an indeterminate additional drink, three men approached Rikard. He was surrounded and felt the fool. He should have seen them sooner. Should have realized. But there were just too many drinks and too much else on his mind.

“Mind if I sit.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Rikard, I know where you work. Both of your jobs. I want to ask you a few questions.”

“You thinking of getting into the chicken business?”

“We both know that’s not why I’m here.”

“Okay, tell me your offer.”

“Just like that?”

“You’re lucky. It’s been a long day. I’m tired. I am in the mood to listen.”

“What about your brother? Is he willing to listen?”

“I don’t think either of us have grown to love driving for a living.”

“Good. I’m so glad this is cordial and I didn’t have to threaten anyone.”

“You didn’t have to mention that part if you were trying to be so cordial.”

“No, but I wanted to.”

Rikard nodded. He was a little too drunk and was running out of words to say.

“I suppose you know who my bosses are? And who their bosses are? And…”

“And so on and so forth, all the way up. Yes, I am well aware. And trust me, I have plans for all of them.”