Screwed

I’d spent weeks casing the joint. If I didn’t get this right, I’d be screwed. Don Giovanni wanted Peter Donovan kidnapped and it was up to me to make it happen. I had to make it happen. My life depended on it.

It wasn’t easy getting close to a multi-millionaire who surrounded himself with personal bodyguards and yes-men. But I got it figured out. He ate at the same restaurant every Saturday night and that was going to be my way in.

I landed a job at the restaurant as a waiter. I knew Mr. Donovan always asked for the same server, so I had to make some changes. I poured a little Ipecac syrup in the usual server’s drink, making him sicker than a dog. He couldn’t run out of that place fast enough. I volunteered to take over his tables, knowing Mr. Donovan would be there soon. 

My plan was to accidentally spill something in his lap, causing him to run to the restroom. Once he was in there, I’d crack him over the head and drag him out the back to my van. I had everything in its place, ready to go.

Mr. Donovan and his party took their seats. Without speaking a word, I set out menus and baskets of bread. 

“Where’s Milo,” he asked rather rudely. “I specifically asked for Milo.”

“My apologies, Mr. Donovan,” I replied in a professional manner, “Milo has taken ill and had to leave. My  name is Logan and I’ll be your server this evening.” In all outward appearances, I was nothing more than another waiter. I told the group about the evening’s specials and took their drink orders. When I returned, I set my plan in motion.

As I placed drinks in front of all the guests, I purposely tipped my tray so that the last drink would fall onto Mr. Donovan’s lap. “You stupid son-of-a-bitch,” he yelled as he jumped out of his chair.

Several members of his entourage tried to help clean up the mess, which only made him angrier. He slapped them all away, then headed for the men’s room. I turned and left the table without anyone taking notice. 

I snuck through the kitchen and made my way to the entrance on the opposite side of the room. I watched through the port window as Mr. Donovan made his way to the lavatory. None of his people had gone with him, so I waited just a moment and followed him in. 

I slowly opened the door, taking note of the reflection in the mirror. I could see him in front of the sink, wiping himself down with a handful of towels. 

I shut off the lights as I entered, trying to remember exactly where he was standing. I had my billy club in hand and hit him as hard as I could. I heard a muffled scream coming from him, so I hit him once more for good measure. He was out cold.

I pulled a bag from my pocket and put it over his head. Then I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him from the room. I peeked out before leaving, making sure no one was in the hall. I made it to the back entrance without being seen. 

I opened the sliding door on the van, threw him inside, then jumped in and took off. As I sped off down the alley, I called Don Giovanni and told him I had his prize. 

We met up at the predetermined rendezvous site. This was my big moment. I was finally going to give the boss what he wanted and my debt would be paid in full. His goons went to the van and dragged the man back to where we stood. 

I could hear his moans as his body was dropped to the cement floor. One of the henchmen pulled the hood off the millionaire’s head, giving the boss a good look.

“Who the hell is that?” I could tell by the sound of his voice that something wasn’t right. I looked down to see that the man lying on the floor wasn’t Mr. Donovan. It was the bathroom attendant who passed out the towels. 

My hands began to shake and I felt sick to my stomach. I knew there was no way I could convince Don Giovanni that this was the man he wanted kidnapped. As I looked into the boss’s eyes, I knew I was screwed.

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Thank you to WritingPrompt.com for posting the following prompt on Twitter.

You kidnap a different person than the intended millionaire the mafia boss paid you to kidnap.

I had a ball writing this.

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Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay