Ribbons Read Online Free

But who’s counting?” She swirled her drink. “You did a lot of good.”
    “I had to. Had to make up for old times.” He reached forward and grabbed a picture frame from the corner of his desk.
    Bethel stood and walked around to stand next to Uncle Quent. He kept his eyes focused on the picture.
    “Not my heart, okay? I don’t want people to say I had a weak heart.” He finished his drink and carefully placed his glass back on the desk. His hand barely shook.
    “Sure,” Bethel whispered into his ear. “It was strong.”
    Then she whispered something else, this time in a language older than words. It seemed familiar, but it made no sense. Fragments of memories tumbled through his mind. Sensations from his youth. Things he forgot he could feel. Invincibility as he ran through a grassy field. Wonder pouring into his mind as he stared up at a sky full of stars. Laughter beyond his control bubbling up from his belly. The certain knowledge that he could be anything he wanted if only he walked down the right path.
    There was a moment of vague disappointment.
    Then nothing.

 
     
     
    3
     
     
    Matt was tied to a chair. The chair had come with the apartment like most of the other furniture. He was young and didn’t have anybody to impress yet, so he hadn’t really thought about the chairs at all. Now he thought the chairs in his dining nook were ugly and uncomfortable. And the apartment wasn’t quaint or charming. It was a dump. Most of the time Matt felt right at home. Not today. Today was special. Today, he had a guest.
    “Uh, Thug Guy?” Matt’s guest hadn’t offered his name yet.
    There was no answer.
    Matt twisted his neck to try to see what Thug Guy was doing. So far he had been all business. Five minutes ago Matt had been enjoying lunch. Then he’d made the mistake of answering a knock at the door. There hadn’t been any small talk, just a quick jab to the gut. That had been all it took to make Matt forget how to breathe. By the time he had figured it out again, Thug Guy had him zip-tied to one of those ugly, uncomfortable chairs. Now he could see Thug Guy rummaging through the cupboards in his kitchen.
    Thug Guy was big but not particularly fit. His family probably came from Eastern Europe or maybe Russia—Matt wasn’t too good with geography. He wore a collarless dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his suspenders looked like they were straining against his shoulders. He turned to look at Matt with a triumphant grin.
    “You’re not gonna get all freaky are you?” Matt asked. “Like, sex-freaky?”
    He looked over at Thug Guy and had time to notice the black newsboy cap pulled low on his head. It was oddly accented with some kind of bird skull. Then Thug Guy was right next to him, and all Matt could focus on was the blender that dropped onto the table in front of him. Thunk.
    Matt instinctively pulled away from the blender. “So that’s a no then?”
    Thug Guy finally spoke. He had a thick accent. “This is good one. Do you make the smoothies?”
    Matt didn’t want to answer that.
    “Hmm . . .” Thug Guy frowned. He looked from the blender cord to the wall socket. “Do you have extension cord?”
    “No?” Matt tried.
    Thug Guy tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. Then he nodded to himself as if he finally remembered where he’d left his car keys. He went into the living room just a few steps away. He talked over his shoulder as he eyed Matt’s entertainment center.
    “You know, you stole much money. You should have better place to live.”
    “Borrowed,” Matt corrected. “I borrowed much money. And I intend on paying it back. Soon . . . ish.”
    “Well, until then, is stolen.”
    Matt was actually relieved. A little, anyway. At least now he knew who had sent today’s houseguest. Matt was relatively new to Reno, but to get an apartment of your own there, even a crappy one, you needed a few basics: identification of some sort, relatively good credit, and money. Matt