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The talker shakes his head, no. “I think we should just join you. I wouldn’t want you to eat alone. That would be so rude of us.”
Does he seriously think he is sitting at my table? Not today, buddy. “Well, that’s a kind offer, gentlemen,” I say sarcastically, “but I’ll be dining alone. Please find another table to occupy.”
They both have the nerve to look offended. “You don’t want to eat with us? Why not, sweetheart? I’m a real good eater. I like to lick everything nice and clean,” he says while licking his lips.
Ehhh yuck, he did not just do that. “Ahhh, no, I’m gonna pretend that didn’t just happen.” I shudder in revulsion. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s obviously not going to work so here goes. I am not interested in anything y’all have to offer. Get away from me, now,” I say, looking right in the mouthy one’s muddy brown eyes.
His smile drops and replaces it with a sneer. He opens his mouth to speak right as the waitress asks, “Should I bring a couple more menus?”
Still looking right at him, I answer, “No, thank you. They were just leaving.”
I hear him mutter, “Bitch,” under his breath, but they do leave.
My lunch was fantastic. The bread was soft and a little sweet, wrapped around hot turkey and bacon. With a full belly, I decide to walk through the mall to see what stores they have before looking for what I need. The DSW is calling my name, so like a girl with a weakness for shoes, I head in to feed my addiction. Being good, I only buy two pair and head out to find a swimsuit. It’s almost September, so my choices are limited. I end up finding a really cute vintage inspired two-piece. The top is similar to a long line bra. There’s a built-in underwire bra to hold my girls up. It’s white and navy blue striped with a cute red anchor decal, the bottom is a super short navy skirt.
Done shopping for the day, I head out to my Jeep so I can go to my condo. If I’m going to be staying at Masen’s, there’re a few more things I’ll need until we talk about what to do with my house. I just bought it so I’m not sure if selling it right away is a good idea.
Nearing my Jeep, I see the mouthy guy from the restaurant leaning against my door. Seriously, can’t this guy take a hint? I’m wondering how easy it will be to get this guy to back off and let me leave. I think I should just head back in the mall and call Masen. I’m a tough girl, but I’m far from stupid. Before I can turn around, the quiet one walks up behind me and grabs my arm holding my purse. Trying to push me toward my truck. “Hey asshole! Let go of me now!” I snap. He’s pulling me harder. There’s no way I’m letting him get me to the Jeep where the other guy is. Dropping my bags, I yell, “NO, HELP!” as I strike out with my fingers held flat at his throat. The tips of my fingers hit his neck, and he gags. Choking, he let’s go of my arm and reaches both of his hands up to his throat. Leaving everything on the ground, I turn and run back in the mall. Thank God, I was able to get away. There was no one around to hear me yelling.
I’m breathing hard from the adrenaline and fear. They haven’t followed me. I realize when I dropped my bags I lost my phone. Going to the closest shop, a clothing store, I tell the woman I need the phone, someone in the parking lot stole my bags. I don’t want to go into details with her.
She takes me in the back and lets me use the phone. “You’re calling the police, right? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” she asks with concern.
“They didn’t hurt me, but I lost my bag. I don’t have any numbers mesmerized. Do you mind just giving me a minute? I just need to calm down for a second.” I’m not lying. I am shaken up, but I need to call the directory and see if I can get a number for Masen. I don’t think he’ll want to involve the police. I think he’ll handle it himself.
“Sure, no problem, honey. My name’s Tami. I’ll be right outside the door. I can’t leave you back here alone. You understand?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, of course, I won’t touch anything but the phone. I promise,” I tell her truthfully.
Once she’s out the door, I pick the phone and dial information. “City and state please.”
“Point Pleasant, Michigan.”
“Business name.”
“It’s a person, Masen Black. Any number you have listed under him, please.”
“I have two listings. Would you like both?”
“Yes, please.” I find a blank sheet of paper and a pen.
“Residential number is 586-555-9911. Black Industries is 586-555-0000. Would you like to be connected?”
“Yes, please, to the residential number. Thank you.” Seconds later, it starts ringing. After six rings, I hang up and try the other number. If this doesn’t work, I’ll find security to walk me to my Jeep. Damn, I just realized I don’t have my keys. I’m sure if they didn’t take them from where I dropped them by now someone else has. Shit, I should have held onto my purse. A smooth female voice answers the line. “Black Industries. How can I direct your call?”
“I need to speak with Masen Black, please.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. He can’t be reached from this line.”
Shit! “Can you give me his cell number or send my call to him?”
“I’m sorry, Miss. I can’t do that. Would you like to speak with his assistant?”
Oh, thank God. “Yes, please.” I blow out a deep breath waiting for the call to pick up. I know he’ll have a shifter for an assistant. I can explain who I am, and they’ll let me talk to Masen.
“Roxanne speaking. How can I help you?”
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. “I need to talk with Masen, please,” I say as polite as I can muster.
