The Rim Job

Oto did not tuck and roll.

Flying backwards from the moving train, his world became a blur of motion as he collided with the grassy shoulder beyond the tracks. The world transitioned from sky to grass and back again for several seconds as his limbs flailed wildly with each flip.

Eventually, coming to a stop with his legs up in the air and face in the dirt, Oto released a muffled cry.

“Owwww! What the hell?!”

With a wince, he pushed himself up, catching a blurry glimpse of the train as it continued to pass by. After a moment, the last car traversed the track, and he watched as it went on its way to the next stop—without him.

Oto was alone.

The coppery taste of blood and the vegetal flavour of grass filled his mouth as he spat both to the ground. Continuing to stand, he felt over his body, which, aside from biting his own cheek, was in remarkable condition considering his last five minutes of worldly experiences.

“Is this what poor people go through every day?” He asked himself. “No, thank you. Oh no—!”

Adjusting his suit, he poked a finger through the hole that had been made in the jacket quarters. A hot round had torn through the fine fabric in a near miss.

“Tch—aww man! This is Mulberry silk—” With a huff, Oto took the jacket off, inspecting it thoroughly. His mood only continued to sour as he noticed numerous rips and tears from his tumble.

“Tch—mannn!” He huffed dramatically. “I’m going to have to send this off to my maestro sartore.”

Tossing the coat over his shoulder, Oto felt something tumble from the jacket's jetted pocket over his back. A small black object stuck out from the grass at his feet that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be a flash drive. It was simple, like the ones he used in school and what he had turned in for his final project earlier in the day.

“Did I—” He paused, trying to remember the day before all the excitement of poverty transportation. “Did I forget to turn in my final assignment again? Damn it, come on, Oto.”

With a sigh, Oto slipped the drive into his pocket and made a mental note to have it sent to the school when he got home. It wasn’t the first time he had forgotten to turn in homework, and, with a sizable donation, he knew all the problems would be handled. He gently thrusted a fist into his palm with an idea.

“I did hear some teachers talking about new computers. Maybe a few of those would—”

“Hey, pretty boy!” The familiar voice called out, pulling him from his scheming.

Looking up, Oto saw the grey figure approaching him. Their clothes were stained with blood and grass, but even the walking fashion faux pas couldn’t distract him from a new development.

It appeared that in their flight from the train, his saviour had lost their face mask. Once again, he was able to see the figure’s unbridled beauty on full display. Intense eyes investigated him on the approach as a fixed scowl held to the lips that had met his only moments before.

He felt at his heart as it raced beneath the dress shirt, a feeling he had never experienced before. It wasn’t panic, but something else.

“Why are you holding your chest?” The figure asked. “You okay? You dying?”

“Wha-I—no!” He huffed, embarrassed, before pointing a furious finger their way. “I’m not dying, no thanks to you. You threw me from a train!”

“You’re alive, aren’t you? You’re welcome, pretty boy. Now come on, we’re in the open.”

Oto felt his eye twitch as he pulled back his hand and ran it through his hair. Watching as the grey figure began to march their way from the train tracks, he could feel himself grinding his teeth.

To him, this person was as annoying as they were beautiful. A truly irksome combination that he couldn’t stand. But since he currently didn’t know where he was and without Giles—

“Giles!” Oto exclaimed as he reached for his pocket before suddenly remembering he had lost his phone. “Damn…my phone. My contacts…”

Looking out towards the grey blob who had already made some distance from him, he clenched his jaw once again. Oto had no choice, so he chased after them.

“Why are you helping me?”

“What?” They replied, turning to see him. “Why are you so far away? I’m not going to bite, you know.”

“I said,” Oto repeated as he drew closer. “Why are you helping me?”

“Easy. Five mil.”

“You said three.”

“Then you agreed to five.” Reaching into their pocket, they quickly withdrew their baton and held it to his chin. “Or you going back on your word? Do I have to make you less pretty?”

Panic quickly set in as Oto held his hands up and took a step back.

“No. No. Five sounds good. I’ll make it six if you don’t hit me with your stick.”

“Deal, six it is.” They turned around, hiding the baton before continuing their stroll. “Pft—you’re easy. Now stick close, pretty boy.”

“Stop calling me that!” He huffed in reply. “My name is Oto. Oto Hilde—”

“Don’t care, pretty boy.” They waved their hand dismissively.

“Don’t—don’t care? Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re the guy paying me six mil not to bonk you with my stick. Which reminds me, can I have that in cash? Not really one to take a cheque.”

Oto grumbled, frustrated by the gall of his saviour. But unfortunately, he didn’t think he would get far in his current state without their help. And then there was the fact that if anyone who did know him saw him as he currently was…

Well, it wouldn’t have been good publicity for him.

“Yeah—” He sighed in response. “We need to get to my villa, though.”

“Villa?” They replied with a laugh, glancing over their shoulder at him. “Ooh-la-la. Swanky. And where’s that at, pretty boy?”

“Don’t call—hrmph! Costa Bellissima.”

“Costa—! That’s like—aww dude, we’re going to need a car!”

“Well, if I had my phone, I would call Giles, and he could have picked us up.”

“Giles?”

“He’s…my butler.”

“A butler named…Giles? Wow, so you’re that kinda rich, huh?”

Oto watched as they fiddled with their pocket before tossing him a cellphone. “Here, you can use mine.”

“What good will that do?” He responded.

They stopped walking and shot him a confused look. “To call you butler?”

“Oh, I don’t know the number. It was in my contacts.”

“You don’t know the number to your own house?”

“Of course not! Who knows numbers these days?”

With a stomp back to him, the saviour snatched the phone from his hands. They glared at him for a moment before poking a finger against his chest.

“Your rescue has gone up to seven mil now.”

“What? Why?!”

“Because you’re useless—and dumb!”

“That—that’s…” Oto grew quiet as he stared down at his feet. “That’s fair. Seven million.”

“Pft—pushover. Come on, I see a house over there.”

“What’ll that help with?”

But his saviour had stopped speaking. Even with his regular questioning, they ignored every inquiry until the moment they were peeking through the window of a rundown farm truck. It had been parked behind the barn at the edge of the property and, while in poor shape, it appeared functional. Or at least that was what the saviour had told him.

“Ugh, isn’t there something nicer?” Oto scoffed as he acted as their lookout. “Like, something German or Italian?”

“It’s got four wheels,” They replied, smashing in the driver's side window with their baton before reaching in and opening the door. “And no alarm. It’ll do.”

“Do for what?”

“We’re going to boost this truck.”

“Boost? What does that mean?”

The saviour sighed as they reached under the steering wheel, yanking a mess of wires free.

“Steal?” They replied

“Oh, you mean a rim job?”

They suddenly stopped, looking back at Oto with a wild and confused expression. Their lips quivered as they tried to find words to speak.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A…rim job? Stealing some wheels?” He gave the hand motion of revving a motorcycle. “Isn’t that what they call it on the street?”

“No—no one calls it that!”

“I’ve heard it called that before.”

“No, you haven’t!” They shook their head at him as they went back to work. “Gah—rich people, I swear.”

With a quick spark, the engine turned over before rumbling to life.

“Nice!” The saviour exclaimed as they adjusted themselves, knocking glass from the driver’s seat and looking at the dashboard. “Okay, we’ve got a bit of gas. Let’s make the most of it. Quick, get in.”

“Awesome rimmer!”

The saviour shot Oto a glare. “Oh. My God. Stop calling it that. Jus-just get in the truck. Please.”

“What does it mean?”

“Just get in—”

“I’m not getting in until you tell me what—”

“Butt stuff! It’s—it’s butt stuff, okay? Get in the damn truck!”

Oto’s face became warm as embarrassment overwhelmed him. Now, thoroughly ashamed of what was said, he slowly made his way to the passenger seat of the vehicle. Climbing in, he quietly buckled himself in and silently wished that he had died on the train.