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She startled and quickly shook her head. “No. I don’t want to press charges. I just want to get this over with.”
The big guy started thanking the lady.
Trent told him to shut up. He turned to her with concern. “Are you sure? If you don’t report these guys, they’re just going to do it again.”
“I got my wallet back. I don’t want to waste my time by filling out a police report, giving a statement, and all that. I’m late now as it is.”
“Are you sure?” Trent shot the man a dirty look. “They ruined your briefcase.”
“It’s old. I don’t care.”
The douchebag goatee guy started to rouse from his unconsciousness. The big guy helped his friend up.
Trent glared at them both. “You heard the lady. Now get lost.”
The muggers scrambled away. Douchebag goatee guy started cursing but the big guy shut his friend up and made a beeline to the opposite side of the alley. They both disappeared.
Meanwhile, some people had congregated at the mouth of the alley, watching the commotion. Two teenagers filmed what had just transpired. Nobody seemed to be calling the cops. Typical. Seeing that the muggers were gone, people finally started to disperse. Except the two teenagers, who were still recording.
Trent snarled at them, “Scram!”
“Those were some cool moves, man,” said one of the teenagers, before they shuffled away.
Trent rolled his eyes. He picked up and handed the last of the papers to her, but only after he “acc
identally” read what was on them. They looked like court orders. “You’re a lawyer?”
“Paralegal.”
“With what firm?”
“I’m late,” she snapped. “Sorry. I’m just having a bad day.”
“We all do. What’s your name?”
She only shook her head and stuffed all the papers into the torn briefcase. Since the handle was broken, she tucked it under her arm. “Thank you for your help.”
“Can’t I at least have your name?”
“Why? My name isn’t important.”
“Just common courtesy, after I rescued you.”
“So you had an ulterior motive? Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t play games.” She stood up and dusted off her pants. The cuff was splattered with coffee, as the Styrofoam cup full of her coffee had smashed near the dumpster. The brown box from the coffee shop was obliterated. The contents were flattened with the visible print of size-ten shoes. It was probably the big guy who had stomped on it.
“Lady, I just want to know your name. That’s all.”
She took a deep, wavering breath. “Arielle. And thank you for your help, Superman.” She started walking away.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Can I drive you to your office?”
“Now you’re being creepy. I said I’m fine and thank you. You better go save Lois Lane. Good day to you, sir.”
“I’m just worried about you.”
She had already rushed out of the alley with a brisk pace, as if she were afraid he was going to chase after her.
Trent cursed to himself. Here he thought he had the perfect opening to get to know her and she didn’t even bat an eye. Fuck.
