“Santos, please listen. You gave me a good life. A good material life. But the abuse and the way you treated me, I didn’t like that. That last night, without even realizing it, I’d decided that vacations and cars and clothes weren’t worth being hit. Or…or degraded. That’s why I left.”
“You make it sound like your life was so fucking hard, Miguel.”
Miguel wanted to scream. Why didn’t Santos understand what he was trying to explain to him? He needed to make Santos see what his life had been like.
“Santos, imagine if I made you have sex even if you didn’t want to. And not just sex, picture me topping you.” He was very specific about that because Santos hated it. He’d once pretended like he was going to hump Santos as a joke. Santos’s reaction had been to roughly shove him off the bed and onto the floor. Miguel hadn’t made that mistake again.
“Imagine you’re going down on me and…” He hesitated, not wanting to give voice to the degradation. But he had to do it. “And I come in your mouth even if you don’t like it. And I force you to swallow.” Miguel’s face burned with humiliation. Not only because he was saying these things to Santos, but because his coworkers were a few feet away, listening. But if this was what it took to get Santos to put the gun away and leave, then this was what he had to do.
“Imagine that if you say something I don’t like, I smack you in the face. Regardless of who’s there to see me do it. Imagine if I called you degrading pet names in front of your friends and associates and you have to smile and pretend to like it, because you know if you embarrass me, you’ll get hit.”
Miguel was crying by now and he had to stop for a moment. All these memories he was dredging up made him feel sick. Like he’d swallowed a noxious mixture of oil and acid and it was coming back up to spew out of his mouth with each detail he asked Santos to imagine. He took a deep breath, then forced himself to finish. “Imagine all that, and tell me what you would do.”
“I wouldn’t let you do anything to me I didn’t like.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d kick your ass if you tried, that’s why.”
Miguel held his arms out to his side, indicating his small, five foot six frame. It was ridiculous to picture him kicking the ass of someone of Santos’s height and bulk. “Look at me, Santos. I didn’t have that option. I couldn’t take you on even if I wanted to. My only option to get away from things I didn’t like was to leave.”
“You think your cop will treat you any better?”
Miguel was afraid to answer that question, not knowing how Santos would react. But he had to speak the truth. “Yes.” He thought he saw the barrel of the gun lower slightly but just then there was a noise at the back of the office.
Santos swung the weapon around toward the hallway that led to the back. “What was that? Who’s back there?”
Miguel held his breath, hoping that the noise wouldn’t come again. He wasn’t so lucky. The sound of a small gasp was clear in the otherwise quiet office.
Santos pointed the gun at Miguel again. “Tell me right now who else is in here.”
“My coworker and my boss. That’s it, I swear.”
Santos’s lips thinned in anger before he shouted toward the back. “Both of you, get up here. Now!”
“Santos, don’t! Let them leave.”
“Shut up, Miguel.”
Miguel quieted, not willing to push Santos just then.
Kendra and Dr. Coker walked down the short hallway, their hands held up in front of them.
Just as they entered the lobby, sirens sounded and blue flashing lights came through the window. Miguel wanted to cry with relief, but it was too early for that. The police were outside. He, Dr. Coker, and Kendra were still inside with an angry gunman.
“I guess that bitch called the cops.”
No one said anything to that. With the gun, Santos was in control, and none of them were going to challenge him. They all stood there in a silent knot of tension, listening to the sounds of the police getting into position in the parking lot.
It wasn’t long before the office phone rang. Miguel had watched enough crime dramas and listened to Hector talk about work enough to know that would be the hostage negotiator. He nodded at the phone. “You should answer.”
Santos kept the gun trained on Dr. Coker and Kendra as he leaned over the reception desk to pick up the handset.
“Hello?” He was quiet for a few seconds as whoever was on the other end spoke. “Miguel. And two people I don’t know or care about.” Santos laughed. “What do I want? I’m not stupid. I know no matter what I ask for I’m not getting it.” Again, Santos was quiet as he listened, but he didn’t take his eyes off his three hostages. “Like I said, I don’t care about them. They can leave. But you can’t have Miguel.” After that ominous final statement, Santos slammed the phone back into its cradle. “Give them the keys,” he snapped at Miguel.
Miguel had forgotten he was holding them. He passed them over to Kendra who was closest to him. Once she had them in hand, Santos grabbed Miguel’s arm and yanked him away from her.
He gestured with the gun toward the door. “Get out.”