The cold metal chair scrapes the interrogation room floor as Charlie Dupont sprawls out with his arms folded lazily across his chest.

  “Don’t know anyone. Everything was by phone or email.” He says cockily; feeling satisfied now that he is finally getting the attention he deserves. If anyone is getting a deal, it's him.

  “Who recruited you?”

  “My loan shark. He gave me a choice. A broken leg or pay it back by talking to chicks.” Charlie smirks, “Guess which I chose.”

  Two Years Earlier:

  “You made the right choice.” Boss Fang says, lowering the bat away from Charlie’s kneecap.

  Charlie exhales with relief, just glad he didn’t piss himself. It’s embarrassing enough being held down wearing only his boxers. At least he isn’t crying in the corner like Bryce. He tries to sit up, but the enforcer keeps him pinned.

  Boss Fang pulls a paper out of his coat pocket, “These are the questions. Y500 for each one filled out. Y10,000 if you find a winner.”

  Boss Fang reaches down and tucks the paper into the elastic of Charlie’s shorts. “Use the email at the bottom.”

  Boss Fang and his minions leave, and Charlie is finally free. While his knees are not broken, they are still wobbly when he stands up. He holds onto the bunk for support. He tries to think, but it's hard with Bryce’s sniveling. He tosses an empty bottle at Bryce, “Man up.”

  “What the Hell, Charlie!” Bryce exclaims tossing it back at Charlie’s head, “what kind of shit was that?”

  “I had some bad luck.”

  “How much bad luck.”

  “Y200,000.”

  Bryce is stunned into silence by the amount.

  Charlie feels the weight of the situation setting in, he sits in a desk chair before his legs give out. “You’re going to help me, right?”

  “I don’t have that kind of money,” Bryce gets up to pace back and forth across the 10x10 room, “Our parents---“

  “Forget it,“ Charlie cuts in, “waste of time.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “WE” Charlie takes the paper from his waistband, “are going to get this thing filled out.”

  Bryce snatches the paper from Charlie’s hand and glances it over. “What do you think they’re going to do with this?”

  “Sell makeup,” Charlie says flippantly, “What does it matter? Who is more important? Me, your best friend, or some bimbo.”

  Bryce rubs the cross on his neck, praying for an answer. A passage from Timothy 5:8 comes to mind. Anyone who denies their brother is worse than a non-believer.

  “Look,” Charlie says, “We pay off the debt. Then walk away.”

  “Fine,” Bryce caves.

  “Let me see the questions,” Charlie takes the paper back and reads all the questions about relationships and intimacy. “How are we supposed to talk to girls about this stuff?”

  “I have an idea,” Bryce says.

  ***

  Present

  “I was taking a sociology course” Bryce explains, “People do research surveys all the time, I figured we were doing the same thing.” He can hear the excuses dripping in his voice, but the officer needs to understand he is a good person. He didn’t intend for things to go this far.

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  “So you gathered data on the girls.” The officer prods. “Then what?”

  “We made about Y50,000 in two weeks.”

  “And?”

  “And then Charlie got a call. We got a winner.”

  ***

  Two Years Ago

  “Y10,000!, Sweet!” Charlie exclaims when he gets a payment alert on his phone.

  “Only Y140,000 more to go.” Bryce points out.

  The phone rings and Charlie takes the call. His brow crinkles, and he shuffles the trash off his desk in search of a pen. “Yeah, I got it.”

  “What was that about?” Bryce asks, not liking the gleam in Charlie’s eyes.

  “How does Y50,000 sound?” Charlie asks excitedly.

  Bryce’s stomach drops, “For what?”

  “To arrange a meeting with the girl.” Charlie shrugs, “Easy money.”

  “Nope,” Bryce says, “I’m not handing some girl to a loan shark.”

  “No one will get hurt.” Charlie explains, “He’ll offer her a loan. She can take it or leave it.”

  It seems too simple. “Are you sure?”

  Charlie shrugs off his concern, “The only thing you need to do is ask the girl on a date.”

  “You do it,” Bryce shakes his head, “Leave me out of it.”

  “I would, but…” Charlie grins mischievously, “If you ask, it’s a sure bet.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s Ting Heng Li.”

  The name brings to Bryce's mind the image of a beautiful girl with a heart-shaped face. She often lingers after class to ask him questions. She was the first to take the survey.

  “No,” Bryce says firmly.

  “Listen,” Charlie coaxes, “If you don’t, then Boss Fang and his goons will corner her alone.”

  Bryce clenches his fist. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  ***

  It’s Bryce’s turn to hang outside the classroom. When Ting Heng Li spots him, she smiles shyly.

  “Can I talk to you a sec?” Bryce asks. He can feel himself starting to sweat. “I have some follow-up questions about the survey.”

  “Sure.” Ting Heng Li’s voice bubbles with excitement.

  “Do you want to eat while we talk?” Bryce asks, “I missed lunch.”

  He watches her face turn a light shade of pink as she nods.

  They walk off campus, chatting about teachers they have in common. Suddenly, Charlie pulls up beside them in a car. “Hop in.”

  “Do you know him?” Ting Heng Li asks nervously, edging behind him.

  “Yeah, he’s my friend.” Bryce says, “Let’s go.” He opens the back door for her.

  Ting Heng Li hesitates for only a moment before getting in.

  Bryce settles into the passenger's seat. He switches to English and lowers his voice, “What the hell?”

  Charlie turns up the radio. “Change of plans.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Stop asking questions.” Charlie nods toward the back, where Heng Ting Li is eying their stiff exchange.

  Bryce doesn’t say anything more, but Ting Heng Li can sense the tension. “I forgot, I need to help my roommate with her homework tonight. Why don’t you let me off here?”

  Charlie looks at her through the rearview mirror, “Relax, sweetheart, we’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Where are you taking me?” She asks anxiously.

  The car pulls off the road and slows into the container yard. Ting Heng Li’s sense of foreboding outweighs caution. She unbuckles.

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” Charlie warns her, checking the numbers on containers as they pass.

  “Bryce?” Ting Heng Li tries to open the door, but the child locks are engaged. “I want to go home.”

  Bryce nudges Charlie with his elbow, “This wasn’t part of the plan. You’re scaring her.”

  “So what,” Charlie says, and parks the car. He unfolds a knife from his pocket and turns around in his seat to face the frightened girl.

  “Jesus Christ, Charlie,” Bryce says, “What are you doing?”

  Bryce grabs at the knife, but Charlie knocks his hand back. Teng Heng Li screams.

  Charlie points the blade in her direction. “Shut up.”

  Teng Heng Li chokes back her cries.

  Charlie points to the container, “It’s no a big deal. All we need to do is leave her there and walk away.”

  “You’re crazy,” Bryce says, getting out of the car to open the back door.

  Charlie hurries out and circles around to block him, “It’s Y50,000.”

  Ting Heng Li bangs on the glass, “My parents will pay you!”

  Bryce doesn’t say anything or move. Charlie opens the car and drags Ting Heng Li out of the vehicle. She does her best to fight, going after Charlie with her feet and nails.

  “Help me,” Charlie shouts, trying to get a grip on the wailing girl, “or I’ll have to do it the hard way.”

  The sharp tone and Ting Heng Li’s cries snap Bryce out of his daze. He rushes over and wraps his arms around Ting Heng Li, holding her tight to his chest. Charlie grabs her feet.

  The two men haul the screaming girl into the container and drop her on the floor.

  “Please, don’t do this. Please, Please” Ting Heng clings onto Bryce's leg. “Don’t leave me here!”

  Bryce mumbles an apology as he shakes his leg free.

  Heng Ting Li scrambles to the door, trying to prevent it from closing. It takes both of them to force the doors closed on her screams. Charlie wraps a chain around the handle and locks it.

  Bryce stares at the door. “What will happen to her?”

  “Don’t know.” Charlie shrugs, “Not our problem.”

  ***

  Present

  Bryce hangs his head, “I drank so much that night I passed out. Did that the first couple times, but you know what?”

  “What?” The officer asks.

  “It made me feel better?” Bryce says his voice cracking.

  “How many girls?”

  “Don’t know,” Bryce says, “I didn’t count, I don’t think about them. Their faces are a bunch of blurs.” Tears run down his face as he asks the cop. “Why do you think I can still see her’s so clearly?”