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I smile curtly and step forward to grab the papers when he places his hand over them. I pause, backing up a bit and staring at him warily.
“You really dressed like that to come pick up some papers?” he asks, leering at me as I cross my arms over my chest.
“I don’t know what you mean. I really need to leave now. I have other business to attend to today,” I say firmly, attempting to grip the papers below his hand with no success.
“I’ve seen what kind of business a chick like you can do,” he says, a horrible smile creeping across his face.
I’m dumbstruck. Of course, there was a possibility that this man was a creep and not an actual client. I knew this might be a dud case the second we spoke, but being in his territory when he decides to act creepy is another monster entirely.
“Why don’t you come over here, and maybe we can work out something. You know, an alternative form of payment,” he says, making a V with his fingers and licking aggressively between them.
“That’s it. Fuck you. I’m leaving. Find a different lawyer,” I snarl, feeling my confidence returning as my righteous anger overpowers my nerves.
“Hey, you can’t fucking talk to me like that!” he bellows, his voice rising into levels of anger that I would only expect from somebody who was about to rip me apart with their bare hands.
I freeze, suddenly paralyzed by the unexpectedly intense reaction. I knew that I could be walking into trouble, but it feels so painfully anticlimactic for me to be murdered by some idiot on my first week of work.
Before I can force my body to move again and get me the fuck out of here, the door behind me flies open, and a large blur of a man in a suit barrels through.
The man jumps toward the desk and yanks the bar owner over it, flinging him onto the floor by his sweatstained shirt. John’s bravado is drained in an instant, and his leering expression is replaced with a look of pure terror.
He cowers in a ball on the floor as the large man holds him down, leaning in closely.
“Now, didn’t we already have a conversation about the way you talk to women, Johnny boy?” the suited man growls, his teeth bared within inches of John’s ear as though he’s going to bite it off like a starved wolf.
“I don’t know what you mean,” John whines, steadfast in his own innocence despite how rigid and shaken he is.
“Don’t be fucking cute with me, John. You know exactly what happened to Lenny when he tried to play games with me,” the man continues, lifting John’s head slightly off the floor and forcefully tossing it back down.
John howls, both in fear and pain, as the man lifts him by his throat and braces him against the nearest wall only a few feet away from me. I’m horrified by what’s happening in front of me, but I feel compelled to watch how it plays out. I can’t run from a scene like this.
The suited man applies pressure to John’s throat. “You’re not getting shit from me or my men anymore. Your ass is on your own, but don’t think for a fucking second that this means you won’t be paying me still,” he says, gritting his teeth.
“You can’t do that! I’ll go to the police,” John’s pleading, desperate voice wails. Despite his threats, it’s obvious that he knows his attacker and takes his threats very seriously.
Even after what he tried to do to me, it’s painful to watch him flail against the wall in agonizing helplessness.
The suited man, however, has no such sympathy for John. His face is as cold and emotionless as a machine. There’s not even anger there, despite the tone of his voice. He’s just blank, which is vastly more disturbing.
“And what are you going to tell the police, Johnny boy? That you’ve been running drugs through here by the fucking boatload for six months? Or would you tell them that you’ve got some information about a missing person that may or may not be at the bottom of the fucking lake?” the man threatens, tightening his grip on John’s throat.
“Okay, okay! Fine! I’ll keep paying you! Just leave me alone,” John cries. For somebody who was just trying to intimidate me moments ago, it’s incredible to watch him be reduced to tears and blubbering in a matter of minutes by this mysterious, imposing figure.
The suited man finally drops John, who falls to the floor like a ton of bricks. He doesn’t even attempt to get up before the man turns to me and gestures for me to follow him.
I hesitate at first, feeling generally unsteady given what I’ve just witnessed.
“What, do you want to stay here with him?” he asks sarcastically.
Well, when you put it that way.
I give John one last sorry glance, hating that I even feel bad for him before I begrudgingly follow my shadowy savior out the door.
