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Going over to the table, I point to the chair closest to him. “Have a seat, Darren.”
“Fuck you! I’m not sitting anywhere,” he said. “What the fuck is going on?”
Sitting at the table across from them, I smirk at Darren. “Come on, Darren. You know why you’re here, so sit the fuck down.”
“Who the fuck are you really?” he asks sitting in the chair facing me.
“I’m Domencio DeLuca, the man you tried to steal from using your PRNG app.”
“Bullshit,” Darren exclaims, trying to stand, but Batista slams him back into the chair.
“Give me your winning ticket,” I demand.
Darren looks dumbfounded, saying, “Hell no. I won that shit fair and square.”
“Are you sure about that?” I questioned.
“Hell yeah, I’m sure. You have no right to keep me here. I won my money legitimately. So, fuck you.”
“I see,” I say.
Eyeing Batista, he knows what’s about to happen next. He locks Darren’s left arm behind his back, then stretches his right arm across the table. I grab Darren’s hand, locking his arm in place. With my free hand, I pull the drawer of the table back and remove the small hatchet.
Upon seeing it, Darren begins to confess his sins.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads. “I’m just trying to make a living.”
“By stealing from me?’ I fume.
“Please don’t kill me,” Darren begins to sob.
“I’m not going to kill you Darren,” I confess. “But I am going to teach you a lesson,”
“Wait, what?” Darren asks, peering at me then Batista.
His eyes roll to the back of his head as I bring the hatchet down, severing his hand from his wrist.
Standing with his hand in my possession, I tell Batista, “Cauterize that shit, then wake his ass up and let him know he’s lucky to only lose a hand. It could’ve been his life.” Dropping Darren’s hand, I state, “I’m going home. My night has been good, and this only intensifies it. Thank you for calling me.”
Batista leans Darren’s unconscious ass back into the chair. “I knew you would want to be here for this bullshit.”
“This was the cherry on top of the wonderful evening I had with Sydney,” I say, heading to the door. “Please stress the ramifications to him if he decides to get the law involved.”
Batista holds up Darren’s driver’s license. “I’m sure once he finds out we know where he lays his head, he’ll keep his fucking mouth shut.”
“Make sure he does,” I say before leaving the room.
The only thing I wanted to do right now is go home, text Sydney to let her know I made it home, take a shower, then dream of her in my arms.
