“You can’t say that!”
“Don’t like it? Talk to Harvey about the defective ‘love potion.’”Drivehimcrazy with your nasal whining.
There are two ways you can score a win. One: crush the opponent’s spirit with a show of overwhelming force. Generally how I prefer to be in courtrooms and other professional settings. Two: feign incompetence and weakness to make the opponent underestimate you and lower their guard. Works great when you’re dealing with somebody who thinks he has the upper hand.
I stumble a little, moving as though I’m feeling woozy. The neckless goon knows I’ve been drugged, but he probably doesn’tknow with what or exactly how it affects me—my uncle isn’t the sharing type. So I’ll put on a show.
The bathroom is all black and reflective, with stall doors going from floor to ceiling. Very civilized, very private. The asshole pushes me toward a urinal. “I need a stall.” I point at the biggest one with a blue wheelchair logo on the door.
“You only need to pee,” he says in a gravelly voice.
“I have a condition. Paruresis.”
“What?”
“Shy bladder syndrome. Can’t pee with you staring.” I give him a meaningful look while swaying slightly.
He looks horrified. “I’m not staring at your dick.”
“Don’t believe you.”
“What the fuck? You were about to take out your dick in front of Harvey.”
“He’s family. Probably changed my diaper when I was a kid.” I lay it on thick, slapping his solid shoulder. “Look. Just let me pee in peace, okay? To be honest, I kinda need to poo, too.”
His face scrunches.
“Full disclosure is important. You should know—I’m a lawyer.”
He glares at me. In fact, he looks like he wants to murder me, but Harvey needs me to sign the retainer agreement. I give the goon a cheeky grin, then stumble into the stall and lock it with a loud click. The automatic flush goes off. Fantastic.
I look around. What can I use to surprise attack the asshole outside? Can I take out the toilet paper holder? It’s metal, and long enough to hurt if I jab it into his eyes. But am I going to be quick enough? I was slower than Soledad at the party, and since then the drug has had more time to spread through my system.
I look up and see a long window across. It opens, and I think I can push my head and maybe shoulders through if I grease myself.
Desperation can be a great substitute for grease.
I don’t have to have any grease. Besides, I don’t want to leave my clothes behind. I step on the toilet seat and slide the window open. It creaks a little.
“What’s that?”
“A fart, okay? Whatever your boss gave me is making me gassy.”
A sound of disgust. I grin, then hoist myself up. Just because my reflexes are slower doesn’t mean my muscles are useless. Doing gymnastics for six years and practicing aikido and judo since I escaped the burning cabin have made me pretty agile.
I stick my head out and look around. A small alley. Underneath the window is a big dumpster, probably for the restaurant. I experimentally push myself up, trying to fit my shoulders through. The frame scrapes my clothes and skin. Something gets caught, and I wriggle and yank at my jacket. The toilet flushes.
“Finally! You done now?” the goon calls out impatiently.
“Mostly!” I yell back, then shove myself out.
Carefully, I twist and turn. Something cracks, but I don’t pay attention, since it isn’t me. Finally, I get my torso through and turn, hanging from the window. My foot touches the dumpster cover. It flexes a bit under my weight; I hop down. My balance isn’t quite perfect, but I manage to stay on my feet.Yes!
This must’ve been what Lareina felt when she managed to escape her terrible aunt via the balcony. Wonder how she’s doing now. Hopefully she wasn’t caught.
I trot toward the main drag and people. Harder for Harvey and his men to act recklessly when there are so many witnesses. The lights halo, and my eyes refuse to focus correctly, just like the time I had them dilated for an examination.
Blinking, I stumble into the crowd. Nobody seems to notice anything off about me. Harvey is smart. He would never give me something that would earn me a hospital visit.
