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For a moment, the room is silent, heavy with the weight of Jensen’s panic and the unspoken threat that we Costas brothers will do something about his mistake.
And just like that, the stillness is broken.
“Please, I’ll do anything.” I turn around to observe Jensen clamber to his feet, a pile of sweat and nervous energy. He knocks against his chair, he’s shaking so hard.
He looks like he’s going to pee his pants any second.
I almost want to laugh, but I also feel a little pity for the guy. I’ve never seen someone look so sweaty and frightened at once.
“Anything?” Tom fiddles with the dial on his watch, and then lets out a huge yawn.
“Such as pay us back?” I ask, turning back to face the window.
“Well, I can’t do that exactly.”
“Oh?” Tom looks up from his tinkering. “You mean you can’t return the money you stole from our very pockets?”
“Well, Mr. Costas, I don’t have it anymore. At least, not at the moment.” Jensen’s thinning hair is matted down; the combination of sweat and too much hair gel amplifies his growing baldness.
“So then what do you propose?” Tom settles back into his chair, completely at ease and playing Jensen like a fiddle. I’ve still got a lot to learn from my big brother, I think with admiration.
“An exchange of sorts,” blubbers Jensen, with tears in his eyes. “How about that?”
I turn around. Tom and I look at each other, each of us raising our eyebrows almost imperceptibly at one another. What the hell is he talking about?
“An exchange?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
Jensen continues, picking up that we might be intrigued by his strange act of bravado.
“Yes, yes. An exchange, and for something much more exciting than money.”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the greasy lawyer.
“Really. Continue.”
Where is he going with this?
“Well, Mr. Costas,” Jensen looks between me and my brother. “We all know that you have money. More money than you know what to do with.”
“Yes?” Tom drawls lazily. “So what?”
Jensen blabbers on.
“I just mean that you’re wealthy men, and well, you need to be kept on your toes.”
I shoot him a disbelieving look.
“Me and my brother climbing Everest didn’t impress you enough, Jensen?” I almost laugh, equal parts bemused and uncertain about where the small man is headed with this strange conversation.
“No, no, that was plenty impressive sir,” Jensen is practically crying now. Disgusting groveler, why did we ever hire him?
“Get to the point, Jensen.” Tom’s voice sharp voice cuts in, and it’s obvious he’s also getting tired of our former lawyer’s games.
“I have an idea, but it would be a little taboo. I’ve done it once before with another high net worth client.”
I stare at Jensen, trying to infer his meaning.
“So?”
Tom looks at me, also trying to figure out where Jensen is headed with his so-called ‘taboo’ idea.
“And you think your so-called idea would make everything better?” Tom raises his eyebrows, clearly underwhelmed.
Jensen nods rapidly.
“Yes, you see Mr. Costas, it’s a very special package.”
I snort.
“This isn’t going to work. Short of a cure for cancer, I have no idea what you have to offer us.”
My brother looks like he’s about to agree, but then Jensen slides in a slimy puddle onto his knees. He’s kneeling on the carpet now with tears in his eyes, his forehead shiny and wet.
“No please!” he shrieks. “Please, listen to me!”
I share another look with my brother. The scrawny man is just too pathetic, shaking and crying the way he is.
“What’s your idea, then? Spit it out,” I say as I take a seat on the leather couch, trying not to look at the slimy lawyer.
“Well, I need to make a call first. To firm up the details,” Jensen begs through sobs. “I need to make sure my ducks are in order. But I think I can procure a woman.”
I share another disgusted look with my brother.
“You mean a prostitute? No thanks,” I shake my head with disgust. “We don’t need to pay for sex.”
Jensen sobs heavily now. He takes his watch off, and puts it on the ground in front of us as an offering. The gold looks fake, and it has a gargantuan over-sized face that’s comically large.
“Here, take my watch as my guarantee,” he pleads. “It’s my great-grandfather’s watch, and he brought it with him when he came from Poland. It’s an heirloom. Take it as my promise to you that I’ll follow up on this idea. And no, it’s not just any woman. It’s a woman fit for men like you. She’s a queen: curvy, soft, and willing to entertain two men at once. I promise you that!”
I shake my head. We don’t want his ugly watch. Even more, we don’t want his women either.
“No thanks,” I say shortly. “Take your watch and leave.”
