“Go back where you came from if you don’t want a piece of this.” The one with his fist buried in Randy’s shirt front made the statement. He was a huge, muscled blonde. Myles pulled out his phone and dialed the police.
"Let him go, the police are on their way.” Myles was trying to sound forceful, but the crack in his voice gave him away. The leader dropped Randy and charged at Myles, landing a punch to his jaw, knocking him to the floor.
“Learn to mind your own business.” The guy’s voice was filled with hatred and contempt. He looked as if he were gearing up for another attack, but the sound of sirens had them rushing from the shop and disappearing. Myles was getting up when the officers entered, and the next hour was spent filling out a report. They didn’t have much except descriptions. Randy said he didn't know them, but the way he twitched made Myles pretty sure Randy knew all of them.
Like the guy said, Myles needed to mind his own business, and he decided to start doing that immediately. He didn’t question Randy, just went back to work once the police had gone. His customer, who was getting measurements, had left when the police arrived and rescheduled for next week.
The tailor would not be happy since he worked on a tight schedule, but there was nothing Myles could do about it. Everyone seemed to have issues today, and Myles was tired of it all: his parents, Randy, the tailor, and the hooligans. He was tired of it all.
He was finishing in the back, cleaning up and getting things organized when he heard the main door open, and someone enter. He started toward the main room and caught his reflection in the full-length mirror. The punch to the face was noticeable, but it had not started to bruise. It was red and swollen, but maybe if he kept his head down, no one would notice.
CHAPTER TWO
"Ineed a new wallet," Lazlo announced as they made their way down Front Street. It was after six, and most shops were closed, but a few were still open. A laundromat was open till nine, a real estate office had its lights on, and a men's wear shop appeared to be open as well.
“I’m going to stop in Classic Threads and see what they have.”
“It’s not as classic as the name might lead you to believe.” Flint scoffed. “They're rather low-brow from what I hear. I doubt they’d have anything you’d be interested in.”
"Stop being a snob, Flint. It's just a wallet, and they should have an adequate wallet even if they are low-brow. I'm not getting fitted for a tux." He laughed. "Come on, just stand by the door if the place is too pedestrian for you." Flint rolled his eyes but followed him inside and stood by the door as Lazlo approached the counter.
Flint watched as the associate presented their leather goods, and Lazlo took his time testing and talking amiably with the young man. He crossed his arms and glanced around the shop, feeling a tension and anticipation that had no grounds.It was a common shop of no distinction, but something was stirring. He kept watch, and then he noticed movement from the back.
Another young man stepped out. He had dark auburn hair and eyes that took in everything he was wearing, dressed in a nice suit like the other man. It wasn't expensive, but it was well cut, and he moved with subtle grace. Flint followed him with his eyes, appreciating his handsomeness, and then he saw it, and suddenly there was a knot in his stomach.
There was a distinct swelling that was fast turning into a bruise on the left side of the man’s jaw. It looked painful, but the young man was holding himself stiff and straight, with a delicate tilt of his head, attempting to hide it. Flint moved away from the door, leaving his friend to discuss wallets with the attendant.
He moved slowly as if fearing the young man would bolt, which was an odd feeling, for he had no reason to run. It was the tension he sensed in himself that made Flint move carefully. Their eyes met briefly, and the young man hurriedly looked away.
When Flint drew closer, he took a deep breath and turned to face Flint directly and tried to smile, but it was a feeble attempt. "May I help you, sir?" He said, and Flint took in every twitch, every nervous glance, every agitated breath. The young man was on edge about something.
“Yes, what is your title?" Flint was fishing for information and wanted him to calm down. Start with small things.
“Sales associate and Tailor's assistant." He spoke stiffly, and Flint took a step closer. The young man did not move but stood a little straighter. “I take measurements and work with customers regarding fabric, style, and any special accommodations.”
“What is your name?”
“Myles Fisher.”
“Who hit you, Myles?” Myles reached up and tentatively touched his swollen cheek.
“It doesn’t matter; they won't be back." He said absently and glanced away, embarrassment showing in his features. Flint stopped himself as he reached out and was about to touch his face. He pulled back and dropped his hand to his side.
Flint reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card with his name and number. He handed it to Myles. “Will you have coffee with me tomorrow?" He asked, wanting to pursue this further. He watched as surprise gave way to delight, brightening his face considerably.
"I'm off tomorrow, when and where?" Myles smiled and held the card as if it were important. Flint wanted to request a meeting in the early morning, not in a mind to wait all day to see this man again, but later might fold into something longer and deeper. He took a step closer, thoroughly enjoying the light, clean scent of hyacinth that enveloped him. It was equal parts heady and refreshing.
“Corner Brew at three," Flint suggested, hoping to turn it into dinner.
"I'll see you there." Myles reached over to the counter, picked up a Classic Threads business card, wrote his number on the back, and handed it to Flint.
"Thank you." Flint stuck it into his breast pocket, never taking his eyes off Myles. He studied the injury, which was steadily growing darker as the bruise deepened. He held out his hand, and Myles took it.
"Tell me their name, and they will never bother you again." Flint used his darkest, deadliest tone. Myles' eyes shot wide for a moment, and then he settled back into a soft smile.
"I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer." He said as Flint released his hand. Lazlo finished with his purchase and was approaching.
"You ready?" Lazlo asked and gave them both a quizzical glance.
