RepoMen (The Repossession Mambo)

RepoMen (The Repossession Mambo)

3.6 45
by Eric Garcia
     
 

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In a brave new world, you'll never have to die . . . as long as you keep up with the payments.

Thanks to the technological miracle of artiforgs, now you can live virtually forever. Nearly indestructible artificial organs, these wonders of metal and plastic are far more reliable and efficient than the cancer-prone lungs and fallible

Overview

In a brave new world, you'll never have to die . . . as long as you keep up with the payments.

Thanks to the technological miracle of artiforgs, now you can live virtually forever. Nearly indestructible artificial organs, these wonders of metal and plastic are far more reliable and efficient than the cancer-prone lungs and fallible kidneys you were born with—and the Credit Union will be delighted to work out an equitable payment plan. But, of course, if you fall delinquent, one of their dedicated professionals will be dispatched to track you down and take their product back.

This is the story of the making—and unmaking—of one of the best Repo Men in the extraction business, who finds his soul when he loses his heart . . . and then he has to run.

Editorial Reviews

Set just 20 years in the future, this eerie sci-fi thriller takes you into the lives of two disturbed war veterans who return from Africa, hoping to resume their lives. At best, they achieve their goal only partially, gaining jobs as "bio-repo men," agents who hunt down and repossess artificial body organs when their owners fall behind on payment. Soon their new livelihood places them both in a painful paradox: One of them has fallen hopelessly in arrears on his own artificial heart, and the other, his best friend, receives the assignment to confiscate his buddy's ticker.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780061938665
Publisher:
HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
03/09/2010
Sold by:
HARPERCOLLINS
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
336
Sales rank:
664,574
File size:
405 KB

Read an Excerpt

The Repossession Mambo

Chapter One

The first time I ever held a pancreas in my hands, I got an erection. I think it was the adrenaline more than the mass of tissue and metal between my fingers, but the medical nature of what I was doing did little to deter the jolt of energy that hit me down below. Prior to that day, my main source of excitement had been sexual, just like any young man, and somewhere along the line, the wires must have gotten crossed. Arousal equals erection, so there I was, pancreas in hand, stiffy in the pants.

Surrounded as I was by four other trainees, there was little I could do but hunch over and pretend it wasn't happening. Jake, standing to my right and examining the clacking valves inside a fresh new heart unit, was positively glowing like a mother holding her newborn child. Even if I'd been able to tell him what was going on, he probably would have just laughed and told me to take care of it in the bathroom. He wouldn't have understood that I didn't want to feel attracted to this job, didn't want any kind of rush associated with what we were being trained to do. Yet at the same time, I knew, deep down, that I never wanted to do anything else.

And now I know, like it or not, that I was probably right. My future career options, as seen from my current vantage point on the fourth floor of an abandoned hotel, surrounded by scalpels, extractors, and a single shotgun, are limited at best.

But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Context, perhaps. I've never been good at context, but I recognize it's something that's valued. Peter likes it, it must be worth something. So here goes; I'll give it my best try. Bear with me if Iget distracted. If I wander. Consistency has never been my strong suit.

When I was on top, I worked in the shadows. I knew how to get in, and when to get out. I was feared, respected, villified. The story's as old as the gig: Men wanted to be or beat me, women wanted to screw or slap me, and most days it didn't much matter which—the jobs went on like they always did, one night blending into the next and into the next.

Don't get me wrong—I remember every receipt I ever wrote, every 'forg I ever hauled back into the Credit Union. Those memories weigh on me now, each of them, like small leaden balls strung around my neck, pressing against my chest. Back then, though, when I was in the thick of it, I didn't take much note. Job's a job. That's how you get through the night.

Typical gig, just for shits and giggles:

I'd swung into the Credit Union after a long weekend, eager to pick up a few extra pink sheets. I'd made a few bad bets on sure-thing college football games and wanted to cover my losses before Carol noticed the hit on our bank account. She could be awful fussy when it came to that sort of thing.

It was a good time for the Credit Union and for those of us who worked in repossessions—the economy was booming and the credit rates kept creeping up, so while folks continued to buy, there was no shortage of those who defaulted and returned their merchandise back to the lender. No worries all around. For most of us, at least.

"You see this?" I asked Frank. "Says this guy lives north of Braddock." The pink sheet gave us address, phone, credit ratings, registered firearms, the works.

"If it's on the sheet, it's on the street," Frank said. "Why do you have to question it? Just go."

"That's a pricey area," I said. "I'm just making sure we didn't miss a payment in the mail." It had happened before; it will happen again.

Frank opened the door to his office, inviting me to leave and get on with it already. "He's eight months over—that's no missed payment. Hell, maybe he's got millions stored under his mattress, I don't give a shit. He's not paying us, so that's the end of that."

Frank was right, and I didn't argue the point. I'd seen it enough times—clients with cash who didn't feel the need to meet their obligations. Their fiscal choices were not my concern. So be it. I charged up my Taser, grabbed my scalpel case, and headed out into the night.

High-rise apartment, nearly fifty stories scraping the sky, and my client, Henry Lombard Smythe, lived on the thirty-eighth. The doorman gave me a nod as I entered and was smart enough not to hassle me—the tattoo on my neck usually takes care of that. A quick high-speed elevator ride and one ridiculously easy to pick deadbolt later, I was inside. No one around, so I made myself at home. High-end furniture, abstract art, views of the city out giant plate-glass windows from damn near every side of the apartment.

The photographs told the story; they usually do. I could check it all out on the pink sheet—date of birth, marital status, kids—but I've always gotten the most complete profile of my clients from the things they choose to put in frames.

There's Smythe—middle-aged, hair receding, a good set of teeth—next to a bottle blonde with great curves, both in scuba gear down in Fiji. Another of him on a ski slope somewhere in the Alps, next to a slim brunette who's holding on to his elbow like it's the last thing keeping her from falling off the mountain. Mixed throughout, photos of Smythe and a little girl, aging randomly. In one picture, she's in pigtails and they're at the circus; in another she's dealing with her first bout of acne and the look in her eyes says hurry up and take the damn picture already. These, combined with the swinging bachelor pad, made it clear: A divorcé with disposable income, choosing to spend his newfound single lifestyle traveling the world and making a general fool of himself with women way too young for him.

The Repossession Mambo. Copyright (c) by Eric Garcia . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Meet the Author

Eric Garcia is the author of several novels, including Matchstick Men, which was made into a feature film directed by Ridley Scott and starring Nicolas Cage, and the Anonymous Rex series. A native of Miami, Florida, he now lives in Southern California with his wife, two daughters, and a dog.

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RepoMen (The Repossession Mambo) 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 45 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Fantastic
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Okay, I get it. You saw the movie because of Jude Law, right? If you actually enjoyed the storyline, check out the original. REPO! The Genetic Opera is clever, dark, funny, and so well-written! This book was published in 2010 . REPO! was released in 2008. This is a ripoff of Darren Lynn Bousman and Terrance Zdunich's (as well as countless others) hard work and genius. Just search 'Repo! the Genetic Opera' on youtube and start listening to the soundtrack. It's really amazing. If you prefer this after seeing R! TGO, whatever. I seriously doubt it, though.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Does this have so many stars? Do a bit of research and you'll find that Repo! The Genetic Opera is the orianal and is much better! So before praising this book too much watch that, and maybe you'll get something that comes in a little glass vial from the Graverobber!
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capt_curly More than 1 year ago
So the concept is great, the idea of organ repossession, even if he wasnt the first to use it. And with all the cool movie previews and commercials figured, okay books got to be great,better then the movie. Wrong! This is a case of the movie is better then the book, much like Roger Rabbit. So i toiled through this book, which dealt with how much a looser the main character was, and how miserable of a husband he was (5 times). The whole time hes talking about running from other bio-repo men and your expecting exciting escapes and action and some great fianle, and all you get is one real fight scene that lasted like 3 pages, and a very sad closure. So if given the chance, dont sign on the line and take this artifical book, leave it for someone else your better off without it.
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DollyDagger More than 1 year ago
I tumbled headlong into a ridiculous crush on Jude Law after watching this so I had to read the book. I am not sure if I liked it because I was envisioning Jude the whole time or it really was a good book. The concepts about artificial organs seem very possible and I like the sinister-if shocking-idea of repossessing them. I was satisfied to read this cover to cover in a day so despite my Jude crush, I think it was a good book and an interesting read.
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