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I tap send on my burner phone and watch as his partner’s gym bag vibrates and emits a sound.
Taking a few more practice swings in the general vicinity before bending down to tie my shoe I watch the distressed look eat up her face as she reads the message I just sent.
“Shit. Someone’s hacked my bank account and I have to go to BofA right now to verify it.” She quickly packs her bags, gives Professor Keith Allen a kiss on the cheek and is off.
The three players stand around looking at each other needing a fourth.
“Hey. You looking for a game?” Keith shouts in my direction.
I suppress a smirk, and pull out my phone, looking at the screen. “Yeah, looks like my daughter and her friends are stuck in traffic. They’re not going to make it anytime soon.”
“Your daughter and her friends,” he says almost silently under his breath, but I pick it up. I always do…little nuances that reveal the true character of people, if you can even refer to pieces of shit like this as people. “Join us until they get here,” he says with excitement on his face.
“You sure I’m not intruding?”
“No, no. Not at all.”
“Well…thanks,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders and joining in.
Quickly I see Keith is good at this game, as he should be. Displaying competence in a niche area is the key for guys like him. That or some kind of authority position. Fortunately for this dickhead, he has both.
An hour breezes by as I play as best as a newbie can be expected to play, deferring to Keith a lot, letting him get all the balls that are hit between us, “Because he’s a pro.”
The deferral strategy works because we win and he feels like the sole reason for the victories. Don’t worry, Keith. Just like an inmate on death row, this will be your last supper.
“Your daughter and her friends still on their way?” Keith asks as the other two players pack up their bags to leave.
“Good question.” I get my phone out of my bag and hit a button on a second burner phone before moving in closer to him. “Can you help me with the glare?”
“Yeah, sure.” He puts his body next to mine to help block out the sun, but what I really want him to see is the WhatsApp profile picture of ‘my daughter’, which is actually some well-endowed bikini model in Dubai. And by bikini I mean barely more than dental floss.
Keith coughs as I look at the message that just came through, because I sent it.
Got stuck in traffic so went to a bar instead. Hahaha. Margaritas?
I put the phone down and look off into the distance, while Keith tries to play it cool as if he didn’t see the message.
The sexual predator is practically foaming at the mouth, but little does he know I am too…for his life to end. Slowly.
“Fucking all that cash on Betty Ford and it went straight down the toilet,” I say under my breath. Turning back to Keith, I shake my head as if I’m bringing myself out of a thought and back to the moment. “They’re not going to make it. We’ve got some troubles and I need to take care of them.”
“You need some help, bro?”
Really? Bro? “No, I’m good. I can take care of them myself.”
“Them? There’s more than one. I mean…I’m not doing shit this afternoon if you wanna grab a drink or need me to help with whatever’s got you looking worried. No offense,” he says quickly shifting gears as he brings his hands to his chest and then shows me his palms in a sign of submission. “Just if you need help I got you, bro.”
Bro a second time. Yeah, this douchebag deserves what he’s going to get, as if I didn’t already know it.
“You sure, man? There are three of them and it’s a public place. There might be a scene.”
“No worries.”
I nod and exhale hard. “Really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’m here for you. That’s what guys do, we look out for each other, brother.”
I’m seething so hard I want to bite his face off and rip his heart out of his chest right here and now.
