Step, Step, Twirl

by Ben Fortenberry

Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.

In Teddy's Sports Bar and Grill, the locals mindlessly and automatically line dance. Their expressions blank, their boots shined, they go through the steps routinely, not making eye contact, silently counting. The music is bass-heavy and bland, the bar is smoke-stained and wood grained.

Ted sits alone at a dirty table in the corner. The man he's waiting for is over at the bar, casually sizing the place up before making his presence known. Ted knows it's him, but keeps looking at an old drink coaster so as not to give it away. The song changes but the dancing doesn't.

Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.

Fifteen minutes pass this way, the mystery man and Ted both watching the western-clad patrons dance like a giant automaton. Finally, the man walks over to Ted and introduces himself.

"I'm Hank. Are you Ted?"

"Sit down Hank. What's your rush?"

"No thanks. I just want to keep this as business-like as possible, that's all."

"Well, it is a business Hank, but that's no reason to be so blunt and impersonal."

"Let's just get it done. I can barely think with this horrible music playing. I've got the cash in my boots. Where are the pills?"

Ted motions to a pair of bouncers, as he looks away from Hank to the dancers.

Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.

"You know, Hank. To be honest, I was having some serious seconds thoughts about this, but you've just made up my mind for me. I thank you for that."

The two huge goons walk up behind Hank and politely ask him to follow them. The goons, Hank, and Ted walk towards the rear of the bar and through an orange door labeled "office".

Walking in, Hank can see that it is no normal office. There are no file cabinets, papers, or even a desk, just a chair bolted to the floor with ankle and wrist straps on it. Hank tries to run, resist, but the bouncers are ready and thump him on the head, knocking him out. Falling, he can still hear the droning music..

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Step, beep, step, beep, twirl, beep.

Hank rouses to the sound of beeping and dancing. Opening his eyes, he sees that the beeping is a heart monitor. How strange, he thinks. His wrists and ankles are locked down, and he has black suction cups stuck to his chest. Ted comes into view.

"I was getting sick of waiting for you to wake up."

"What the hell is this?"

"You'll see for yourself soon enough. Are we ready?"

This last part is directed at a man hunched over some strange electrical equipment in the corner. The man just grunts and goes about his business, whatever it is. Ted paces back and forth like a father expecting, smoking and occasionally nodding his head in time with the music. The mystery man comes towards Hank.

"Hank, this is Andrew," informs Ted as Andrew sticks suction cups on Hank's temples. "Don't worry, he's a paramedic." Andrew smiles huge. He checks the rest of the cups and goes over to Ted. They mumble for a minute, Ted nods vigorously.

"You see Hank, Andrew is my connection for the pills you came here to buy. So, he'll give you the pills, but in a way you didn't intend."

Andrew opens a cigarette case and takes out a pill. He shoves it into Hank's mouth.

"Swallow it Hank," Ted's face comes so near to Hank's eyes that he can see his clogged pores. He repeats, "Swallow it Hank." Hank does.

"What the hell is it?"

"It's commonly referred to as speed," mumbles Andrew, from somewhere.

Ted's huge face comes back into view, "We're going ask you a question, and I want you to answer, so that nothing bad has to happen to you. Alright?"

"What's this all about?" Fear is audible in Hank's voice.

"The question."

"Okay, what's the question?"

"We'll get to it in a minute, but for now take the pills like a good boy, alright?" Ted begins to pace again. Andrew shoves another pill in.

Hank's mind starts to race. He focuses in on that extremely annoying beeping noise. The pace has increased. He watches the blip get more and more agitated. He stares and stares and stares for what seems like five hours. It's really five minutes. Then Andrew stuffs another pill in.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep

Step, beep, beep, beep, step, beep, beep, beep, twirl, beep, beep, beep.

Another pill, another pill, another pill, and in twenty minutes Hank is nearing cardiac arrest. At least, that's what he hears Andrew say. The heart monitor has flipped. It beeps so fast that it almost sounds like one long tone, which is what Hank most definitely doesn't want to hear. His mind does cartwheels around one central thought: Why?

"Why?!?"

"No, No, I'll ask the question when I'm ready Hank."

"About what?"

"Give him another pill Andrew."

"Sure."

As Andrew is reaching for Hank's mouth with a pill pinched between his fingers, Hank checks out. He lets loose with a long painful-sounding groan, and his head flops back, the heart monitor making that long tone. Andrew drops the pill and races to grab two greasy paddles. He sticks them to Hank's chest, presses a button and..

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! What just happened?" screams Hank.

Ted's face is close again, his eyes bulging, he is childlike in his joy. "You died, Hank."

"Stop this! I'll tell you anything! Don't kill me!"

"You mean again, don't you? I've already killed you once Hank."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who's the buyer ? Who told you to set up this deal? Whose money is in your boots?"

Hank sits stone-faced and staring.

"What's the name Hank?"

Silence. Andrew shoves in two pills, and pinches Hank's nose shut. Hank has no choice but to swallow. He has ruined his pants, sweat is dripping out of every pore, his teeth are chattering. Ted resumes his pacing. Andrew looks at some monitors, starts to re-grease the paddles. Hank waits to die, again.

Step, beep, beep, beep, step, beep, beep, beep, twirl, beep, beep, beep.

Two pills later, and the monitor is flat again, Hank's tongue is hanging out, his eyes rolled back. Andrew has the paddles on, but has to push the button three times to bring Hank back. Ted is looking at a stopwatch. Hank jerks back to life and coughs so long that he's drooling blood.

"Ted. Ted. Don't do it again Ted. Please. Please. Don't send me back! PLEASE!"

"Tell me the name Hank."

"He'll kill me."

"I've killed you twice already Hank! It's me you should be scared of! I'll kill you again!"

"Johnny Garrett! That's the name! For God's sake no more!"

Ted mulls the name in his head for a minute, memorizing it. He pulls a pad and pencil from his pocket, writes it down.

Andrew shoves in three pills while pinching Hank's nose shut. He swallows, crying.

Step, beep, beep, beep, beep, step, beep, beep, beep, beep, twirl, beep, beep, beep, beep.

Ted and Andrew step out of the office. Outside the door, Ted is scribbling something in his notepad, and mumbling to himself. Andrew is wondering whether Ted might do this to him one day. Thankfully he doesn't have to think about it too long before Ted interrupts.

"Let me know how many more times he comes back okay?"

"Sure."

"And find some info on this Johnny Garrett. I want to get to the source of all this cash, maybe retire a rich man."

"Sure."

"And take a shower when you're through, you smell bad."

"Sure."

Ted walks off to the dance floor, his mood instantly changing from psychopath to expert line-dancer. He waves at some people he recognizes and begins to step, step, twirl. Andrew goes back into the office to check on Hank, who is silently weeping, and beeping. He almost has pity for him, almost. He shoves in three pills.

Some time later, Andrew re-emerges into the bar with a smile. He sits at Ted's usual table and watches the locals mindlessly line-dance. Ted is easily the most skilled. Ted notices Andrew and comes over, half walking, half dancing.

"Well, how did it go?"

"Five."

"Five?" repeats Ted. He whips out his pad and writes it down.

"Five."

Ted goes back to dancing. Andrew goes back to thinking. Hank goes back to being dead in a burlap sack in the back of Ted's pickup, tools scattered around him. The locals go back to dancing like a giant automaton. The song changes but the dancing doesn't.

Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.