The Debt

Manny sat in front of his television watching an old Clint Eastwood movie, Coogan’s Bluff. Not one of Clint’s better works, but it beat anything else on at the time. A beer and a sandwich for company, he watched Clint chase Don Stroud through Central Park.

​The phone buzzed.

​He didn’t answer.  

​The phone buzzed insistently, but Manny still did not answer. He let it go to voicemail. Whoever it was would call back later.

​The phone fell silent.

​Good.

​Then it began again.

​Manny looked at the LED screen.

​Caller not identified.

​Shit.
​He looked at the cell phone screen.

​Time 12:32.

​It couldn’t be a sales call, they weren’t allowed to call after nine.

​Fuck.

​Whoever it was… was not going away.

​As Manny reached for the phone, an ominous feeling of dread overcame him and his hands began to shake.

​“Yeah?” he said upon answering.

​Not a hello or any other standard greeting, not that he could think of any. ‘Yeah,’ covered it. A way to both answer and show his irritation all at once.

​“It’s time Manuel,” said a woman’s voice.

​“Time for what? Who is this?”

​“You know who it is and if you don’t, you will soon enough.”

​Manny went quiet, not knowing how to answer.

​“You know what you’ve done…don’t you?” the voice asked.

​“Who is this?” Manny asked again although it was more a demand.

​“That’s not important. What matters is that it’s time for you to pay the price.”

​“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

​“Oh, but you do. Look outside.”

​Manny’s stomach churned.

​Peering out of a crack in the blinds, what he saw sent Manny’s stomach from churning into a full-blown somersault.

​“It’s time Manny. Either you come to me or I’m coming to you.”

​And he knew she meant it.

​He slowly walked toward the door.

​He hesitated like anybody in his position would, then put on his jacket and slowly walked out the doorto meet his fate.