When Stars Align

Handcuffs and doughnuts.

Gabriel winced in pain and glanced at his shoulder where the the throbbing pain was coming from. Blood was still leaking out of it and he had no way to stem the flow, he was handcuffed and stuck in the back of a police car. That bastard Lorenzo had shot him in the shoot out with the police and he had been the one arrested when he had no involvement in the shooting.

He had tried to explain to the police men that he was only a victim, he and his girlfriend had gotten attacked by Lorenzo and his men but it was like they were dumb or something. They both turned a deaf ear to him. How had Lorenzo been able to find him so quickly? He’d only spent a week in Paris and had kept a low profile, he didn’t go to places where he could run into Lorenzo or any of his men.

Two years ago, he’d come to Paris alone, he had just gotten paid by the dance company he and Amanda were under. He was a rising star and the fame had gotten to his head, he’d come to Paris to flex and console himself. Amanda had tried to break up with him at the time because she thought she couldn’t reciprocate his love and he was wasting his time with her. He’d gone on a spending spree, visiting clubs and casinos, gambling away his money. He had decided to try another round of poker with Lorenzo and had bet a huge sum of money– money he didn’t have, money that he had borrowed– that bastard Lorenzo knew he was a goner but had let him play all the same. He’d lost and had no money to pay up, he had barely escaped with his neck intact that night. He would’ve gotten away with it too, if Paris hadn’t been in their program this year.

Now he was stuck in a police car about to be thrown in a cell, who knew the untold horrors that awaited him behind those bars. He’d heard stories of the things that went down in jail, he started to panic, he couldn’t get thrown in a cell. Lorenzo probably had some of the police on his side, no one works with the mafia and didn’t have connections in the system. Especially now that Lorenzo has lost a member of his crew because of him, he’d be dead before morning.

Luckily for him, the car stopped in front of a convenience store, both police officers got down and went into the store, chatting away in French. The incompetent fools. He looked around the car for an escape but found none. The car was old and smelled weirdly, he wrinkled his nose and looked down at his feet, there were trash all over the floor. A half eaten bag of chips crumbled at his feet, there was gum stuck at the back of the driver’s seat and something looked and smelled moldy at the corner.

There was no handle at the door he could open it with and a partition made of net separated him from the front seat. The car was left running, meaning they wouldn’t take long. They probably popped into the store to get a box of doughnuts or maybe another bag of chips– he rolled his eyes. He knew he needed to act fast, he didn’t have much time.

He reached up with his cuffed hands, despite the discomfort in it caused him and shook the net. It wasn’t that strong, he could probably get it unhinged if he hit it with enough force, so he did. He rammed his uninjured shoulder into it continuously till it gave and he jumped through the hole he just created into the driver’s seat.

Now came the matter of opening the door, he couldn’t do it with his hands cuffed behind him and even if he was successful, running around with cuffed hands will surely attract attention– attention he didn’t need. He had no other choice, time was running out and he couldn’t search for the key. First, he moved his shoulders up and swung his arms upwards, bringing them to his front. His bones cracked and his muscles ached; being a flexible dancer paid off afterall.

He pressed down on his thumb at the joint with his other hand with full force till it popped, dislocating it. He bit down on his lip to muffle his scream till he drew blood. God, that hurt like hell. Once he’d dislocated the thumb, it was easy to slip that hand out of the handcuff. He opened the glove compartment and as expected, there was a spare gun in there. He checked it to see if it was loaded and clicked off the safety, he slipped the gun in the back of his trouser.

He opened the door with one hand still cuffed and the other cuff dangling– he couldn’t try the method he just used, he still needed the other thumb to hold the gun in case he needed to pull the trigger– and took to his heels.