A Little Bit Ninja

8: Spawn of a Nut Job (Revised)

Nobody had ever applied the word “simple” to my dad before. He was anything but simple, but I guess when you compared him to the criminally insane, simple sounded like a compliment.   

“I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere near a whack job who takes pictures of dead babies. Take me home.” I said this in the most authoritative voice I could muster.

Anton barked out a humorless laugh.

“Are you joking? You don’t have a choice. Believe me. It’s in your best interests to come with me.” Insert my eye roll here.

My mom always told me that if the wind blew while I was rolling my eyes, or making an ugly face, that it would stay that way forever. Obviously that can’t be true, or there would be a lot more ugly people in the world—I would be among them for sure—but I was glad we were enclosed in a car just in case. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d given my eyeballs a good workout like this.

“And if you even care a tiny little bit about your dad, then you should cooperate.”

Oh-ho-ho, look who’s pulling out the big guns now! He did not just threaten my family!

“Maybe I don’t believe you. Want to explain exactly what you are going to do to my dad?”

I rolled my eyes yet again. They would probably be stiff tomorrow, like my quads after doing too many plies.

“I don’t care if you have some policemen in your pocket. My dad is a very well respected member of the community, and the CEO of an international oil company. He is close friends with the President, gets invited to the Queen’s garden parties, and he is on the Dali Lama’s speed dial.”

I wasn’t sure about being on the Dali Lama’s speed dial, but Dad did visit him a lot.

“Believe me when I say that there is no way you will get away with it. If I go missing, and then something happens to my dad it will be a much, much bigger problem than your little, traitor policemen could handle.”

Ant just shook his head and ran his hands through his hair.

“Jade, please? You have to believe me. Nobody crosses The Boss without meeting a nasty end.” He was starting to sound desperate.

I rolled my eyes once more. I was really missing the use of my hands at this point. There were many more ways to express attitude than eye rolls, but with my hands tied, well, the options were pretty limited.

“There are ways to make things look like an accident. Not even the best minds in the country would be able to tell a difference.”

“Who do you think you are? The freaking Mafia?” I snorted again, and began my eye roll, but jumped when he grabbed my face and looked angrily into my eyes.

“Will you quit rolling your eyes at me?” he nearly yelled. “If you do that one more time I swear…” he trailed off into nothingness when he saw my eyes widen and my face pale.

“What will you do?” I forced a laugh—and managed to keep my eyes from pointing north.

I decided to humor him because I was in no position to defend myself.  I contemplated resurrecting my bucking bronco plan, but the giant wasn’t close enough for me to head-butt. But can I just say that if ever there was a time in a person’s life when eye rolling would be appropriate, it would be when a kidnapper is trying to convince you that going with them into the custody of a certifiable mad man would be in your best interest.

I cleared my throat and attempted a joke, “What are you going to do? Put me in cement shoes and make me sleep with the fishes?”

Anton just looked at me, with a sad look in his eyes. He let go of my face and looked down before responding. I would venture to say he looked ashamed.