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I know what he’s doing, the second the words leave his mouth. “Listen here, you fat...”
Anisten’s hand clamps down on my knee. “I got it, Luc.” She stands in a confident stance, staring at this man I know as Jeffery Mann. The same asshole who has been trying to make her life a living hell since she started at the firm. “Mypersonal businessisn’t any of yourdamn business. Please get the fuck out of my face, and if there’s an issue, take it up with me at the office on Monday.”
I want to tear this man limb from limb, and it’s hard for me to sit down because there will always be this need to protect her, and in this case, I’d like to hurt him. But, my girl can fight with the best of them. She takes shit from no one, and it’s why I’m beaming with pride. I’m so fucking proud of Anisten.
He leaves, but he’s loud enough in his exit. “Yeah, and now everyone will see how you really got ahead in this business.”
I begin to stand, but she grabs my knee, again, as she sits down. “Please don’t. It’s what he wants.” And just like the fuck Garrett Greene, Jeffery Mann, too, is trying to bait me.
“Fuck, Ani, he’s like a pimple you just want to pop, isn’t he?” Laura asks, and this helps me forget my anger for a moment. “And honestly, he sort of looks like a big-ass pimple, if you ask me.”
Laura has a way with words, but she’s not wrong.
* * *
"Murph?" I yell over the phone because someone has picked up. I can hear voices in the background, one sounding like my sister. "Murphy, you there?"
"Luc, hold on a second." He must mute the line because it's silent, and the voice I swore had been Isabel is gone.
"Luc, sorry about that. And before you get mad, I stopped by your parents’ and ran into Isa. That's it."
"All right,” I concede. I know my best friend enough, and a ring on the finger is a hard pass, even when it comes to the love of his life. “But that's not why I called. I need to ask a favor of you."
"Sure, what is it?"
"Are you still close to that hacker you went to college with?"
"Cedric? Yeah. He's not my best friend, like you, but we're tight. What do you need?" I tell him everything, and together, we formulate a plan. All the way down to specific times and dates. I shoot off an email to Penn, telling him as little as he needs to know for plausible deniability, and after Murph speaks to Cedric, the plan is set.
* * *
"What are you doing here?" I ask, pulling out a barstool next to my best friend.
"I couldn't miss our diabolical plan, now could I?"
"I guess you should revel in it as much as I'm going to, Murph." I flag down the bartender and order a bourbon for me and gin for Murph. Our eyes stay on the door, and as the fat fuck I remember from the other night walks into the upscale bar with his most affluent client, I point him out to Murph.
"Fuck, and Laura called him a pimple. Yeah, I can see it,” Murph says.
The night goes on, and Murph and I are six to seven drinks in, and I wonder if I'll get the chance to see this fat fuck fall on his feet. Murph must be bored, too, as he leans into the bartender. "Hey, man, that table over there seems to be racking up quite the tab?"
"Yeah, the bastard is in here every week and barely tips."
Murph's eyes flicker with his ‘I have a plan’ look I'm all too familiar with. "So, you should close out his tab now, saying it's a new rule just to piss him off. Then start a new tab. If the asshole doesn't have the decency to tip, why give him any extra luxury?”
The bartender, no older than twenty-five, slaps down his hand. "Fuck, man. You're right. I'm going to run it now. After all, his bill is over five hundred dollars."
I finish my bourbon, and Murph drinks the rest of his gin. "Think this will go the way we planned?" he asks.
I sure hope like fuck it does, and I watch the bartender rerun his card. "Fuck, this thing bounced. Fucking bounced, and this will come out of my pay if I don't take care of it."
He steps out with purpose behind the bar and marches over to Jeffery Mann's table. "Excuse me, Sir." Jeffery's face burns with anger, red splotches popping up on his skin. We have turned around, watching the train wreck.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mann, but we have a new policy to close out the tab after a certain amount, and I ran your card, and it was denied." The three men with him, and according to Penn, his highest paying client, shift in their seats.
"Is there a problem, Jeffery?" he asks.
"No, not at all." He maneuvers in his seat and grabs for his wallet. "There's got to be a problem with the network. I can guarantee I have more than enough money in my account." He hands the bartender another card.
