Lily might not have said it in words, but the fear was written all over her face yesterday when James pulled her close. It was the same expression my mother would have on her face whenever she had to pretend like everything was fine at home.
Right on cue, James stepped out from around the corner of the golf club. Dressed in golf gear that barely fit him and carrying a bag of clubs, he waved to his friends and headed to his car - parked alongside the building and right in front of my Cadillac. It was a very private spot back this way. Away from any prying eyes, cameras, or windows. And directly in front of the ladies’ bathrooms.
Fucking perve.
The smile on his face dropped when he noticed me leaning against the hood of my car, drawing back sharply on a cigarette as I watched him from over the rim of my sunglasses. His beady little eyes grew a little suspicious before he glanced around the parking lot quickly.
That’s right. You’re all alone. Like Lily was this morning.
“How’s it going?” he smiled nervously as he unlocked his car, giving me a tight-lipped smile while he tossed his golf clubs into the backseat.
He didn’t recognize me.
I breathed out a heavy cloud of smoke through my nose, keeping my face neutral. Waiting.
This made him nervous, his movements rushed, as he hastily moved to the driver’s side door and pulled it open. Once he planted his large ass in the seat, I started towards him, covering the distance in a few long strides.
He began to close his door when I ripped it out of his pudgy fingers.
As he stammered, I gripped the back of his head and smashed his face down onto the top of the steering wheel. The feeling of his nose breaking on impact, reverberated through his skull and to my hand, giving me just enough satisfaction to calm down a little.
I pulled away as I watched him panic. He gasped like a goldfish while his little brain tried to process what was happening.
Crossing my arms loosely, I frowned. “Take your time.”
“What the fuck?!” Blood started to drip over his mouth in heavy, dark red blobs. His nose was completely flattened and bent through the bridge and was quickly swelling. And yet he kept trying to talk, even as he coughed and sputtered on the blood dribbling down the back of his throat. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Your worst nightmare.
“Who I am isn’t important right now, so put your head back, shut the fuck up, and listen.” I crouched down beside him, the car door resting against my back, and then gestured to his nose. “Consider this a warning.”
“For what?!” he spat, dribbling blood onto the front of his blue polo shirt.
“What’d I just say about talkin’?”
He remained silent.
“Good...” I stood up, glancing back over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone. The last thing I needed was for someone to interrupt. Resting my arm on the roof of the car, I looked down at him. “I want you to quit your job.”
He scoffed and then coughed on more blood. “Fuck off,” he croaked.
“Alright.” I cracked my neck and grabbed his left hand firmly and jerked it up. He yelped, struggling against my grip as I held his knuckles against the car’s door jamb.
Ignoring his frantic pleas, I slammed the door over.
“OKAY!”
I caught the door and pulled it open again, releasing his hand. It was amazing how fast the color drained from his face when he realized, I wasn’t fucking around.
“Fine! I’ll quit my job,” he breathed heavily, refusing to meet my gaze as I ducked my head.
“Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“You heard me, you blubberin’ fuck.” I lowered my voice as my words got sharper. “If I find out you’re still on the Whitmore Real Estate Agency payroll after tomorrow, I won’t just break your fingers.”
“I-I still have to sign off on several properties—”
