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The dentist began teasing the side of the deck with his forefinger, a smirk curling across his cheek. Sweat beaded on my forehead and I began to feel light headed. I was once again reminded of my minor heart attack episode. My thoughts danced across several decades of coffee, cigarettes and stress. I felt as if an elephant had sat on my chest.
I reached into my pocket for a pack of smokes that wasn’t there. Disappointing.
The kitchen otherwise typical had it not been for the bound teenager unconscious in the corner. It was about as close to a kitchen as you’d see in some Martha Stewart magazine. White stove and refrigerator, ornate wood floors. Dish rags with floral patterns hung off kitchen drawers. A kitschy painting of some arbitrary field in the heartland hung on a wall near the dish washer. So, the dentist has a big paycheck but lacks taste. Then again, maybe he just wanted to appear plain.
“Water,” I muttered.
“Come again?”
“I need a glass of water before this nonsese carries on any farther.”
I needed to be in a hospital bed, not captive in a disturbed dentis’s kitchen, though the former would almost certainly involve the law. My thoughts returned to the boy, passed out in a heap, seemingly at peace if not for the thick white cords that bound both sets of limbs. I was about to return my gaze to the dentist when the boy stirred. I could see the dentist flinch out of the corner of my eye, just an inch, toward the weapon at rest on the nearby table. He reserved himself immediately, and I pretended not to notice.
Stan picked a hell of a time to come down with acute pancreatis. Stan was smooth, cool, discrete. Kevin was oblivious and most of all, unconscious.
“Water,” I said, more forcefully.
The dentist hesitated before responding.
“Right. Okay. Water, then we talk.”
He shifted in his seat, got up and walked slowly to the kitchen sink across the room, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he lifted the tap with one finger under the spout, playing it cool. He was still wearing his matching black jogging shorts and windbreaker.
I glanced at the boy who was once again sound asleep, realizing I had no control over this situation an no plan. Let him sleep for a little while longer. A nightmare might seem pleasant compared to the current state we’ve found ourselves in. The dentist shut the water tap off and smacked his hand against the counter.
“Ice?” the dentist called out, almost cheerfully, his head still facing forward.
“I…what?”
“Would you like ice in your water?”
I didn’t answer.
Why did he have to tie the boy up? Fifty grand in debt shouldn’t warrent this kind of behavior, for Christ’s sake, the man’s a dentist, not a heroine addict.
The sound of a glass smacking the kitchen table in front of me caught me off guard. I needed to focus. The glass had ice in it.
“So?” the Dentist asked quietly.
“So what?”
It was bright outside. My eyes scanned the room for a clock. A time display above the stove reading half past 8 O’clock.
“Don’t get cute. Have you decided what game we’ll be playing? Or would you prefer the alternative? You can practically see the headline now,” he trailed off.
“What about the boy?” I asked.
“He’ll be staying with me, of course,” the Dentist said dryly. “At least, for now.”
“But…”
“No more questions for right now Mr. Cervetti.” He became more short in tone. “The relavent question is, have you made up your mind?”
The boy stirred a second time, groaned, but didn’t raise his head. Another few seconds of silence passed as we both the dentist and I shifted gaze away from the boy and back at each other. The dentist seemed positively delighted. Arrogant, and apparently, out of his mind. Back when I was on the force, the boys would always play cards in their downtime, but I was never much of a gambler.
“Goldfish,” I said, a bad joke to buy me a few extra seconds. I took a long drink of water and my mind raced.
“Now, now, Mr. Cervetti…”
“Blackjack,” I responded, before he could continue. A simple game. A quick game. I instantly regretted my choice.
“Large,” the dentist whispered. “Blackjack it is.”
Our captor began shuffling the deck in a pretty way, as if I should be impressed. He’d make a dealer in Atlantic City, but I wasn’t amused by his theatrics. The cards passed from right hand to left, arching and flowing like flipping through the pages of a fine novel. I noticed a slight smile on the dentists face as he practiced his craft, the satisfied look you might see a man wear as he’s about to light up the first cigarette of the day. He loved his cards.
I took a sip of water and the nausea and dizziness I awoke to began to subside slightly. I thought about the boy, then Carol. Where was Carol? She had spoken to the dentist. She knew vague details about what I was doing today. Where I was going, at least. Without the boy or me there, she was cut off. detached. I need to get out of this mess myself.
I suppose in a normal card game, this is when you’d make small talk.
“Why is the boy asleep?” I asked.
“As you might imagine Mr. Cervetti, being a dentist makes aquiring certain chemicals which…” he paused, as if fumbling for words. “Which allow me greater discretion in choosing whether or not your accomplice is conscious or unconscious.”
“Makes sense,” I muttered.
“Quite.”
He continued shuffling the deck as if to goad me, practicing his little tricks but being careful not to change the neutral expression across his face. I was growing weary. If an opportunity to get out of this mess arrose, I’d take it, but the boy, bound and unconscious, was a particular problem.
I glanced at the gun.
“Ah yes, there it is,” the dentist said. “A Glock 17, just like you used on the force. Was it love at first sight?”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t in the mood for another game.
“I’m not an idiot, you know,” the dentist said. “It’s not loaded. See for yourself.”
Annoyed but also slightly amused at how a dentist from Iowa would know how to unload the magazine of a Glock pistol, I reached for the gun. I didn’t even have to look. I knew as soon as I picked up the weapon, feeling the weight in my hand. I checked anyway.
“No, not an idiot,” the dentist trailed off again, continuing to shuffle his deck to the point of absurdity.
“This is crazy. Can’t we just talk about this for a moment?” I asked, despite the sense of hopelessness that was washing over me.
