“Your fucking phone.”
He hands it over. I shove it in front of his face and the phone opens, like magic. Quickly, I find Kit’s number and delete it. With his unwilling help, I install an app that lets me track him, then hand it back.
“What’d you do?”
“Made sure you don’t go near her again.”
“Go near her? She’s still my wife you know, you fucking?—”
My mind goes narrow, my focus as sharp as it’s ever been. I move, put my hand at his throat, the other hovers just over his balls.
“I will fucking kill you.”
“What? You’ve got to be?—”
“I willkillyou.” I look down into his eyes and let him see the violence in mine. Then, in case he doesn’t quite get it, I translate into words he’ll understand. “That is not hyperbole.”
“Hyperb…” He swallows. It’s loud out here, despite the traffic at the edge of campus, but I hear that dry sound. I see his pupils go wide. I know the signs of fear and this man is in the thick of it. “Where the hell did Kitty find you? Thugs R Us?”
“I don’t get that reference.”
“Geez, how old are you, dude? Like twenty?”
The fucking gall. I back slightly away, more annoyed by him now than angry. “How old’s Lily?”
Touché.
His blinking speeds up. “I can’t believe she sent you here.”
“She’s got no idea I came after you.” And by the time he works up the courage to reach out to Kit and complain, I’ll be long gone.
That knowledge drills a hole in my gut.
“She wouldn’t like you doing this. Threatening me like this.”
I let a smile pull at my lips. I can be creepy as fuck when the occasion requires it. “You think you know what she likes?”
He opens his mouth to reply and then drops it, belatedly struck by understanding. Mottled color seeps up his face. He knows now, as surely as I know, that I satisfy the woman in ways he can’t begin to imagine.
I hand him back his phone. “Leave Kit alone and you won’t hear from me again.”
I’ve turned to go by the time he works up the courage to say, “I know who you are, you know.”
My only response is a raised-eyebrow look.
“You’re internet famous.”
“What?”
“Your video. My girlfriend—” He clears his throat, looks away, runs one trembling hand through floppy hair. “The students. They’re all talking about it.”
“About what?”
“You beating the shit out of that guy.”
My pulse picks up. “Guy?”
“In a parking lot? Against a car? That’s you. Crap, I thought that looked like Kitty pulling you off him. You’re the hashtag ‘Parking Lot Hero.’ Like, you literally pick some guy up by the neck, like he weighs nothing. The… Fuck. You know what? I believe you, okay? I believe that you’re capable of hurting me. I can’t…” He looks away, sort of theatrically flummoxed, and then back. “I can’t believe she’d consort with someone like you, but then again, she does have that shitty, felonious brother, doesn’t she? Fuck.” The phone in his hand starts ringing. He looks at it, drops his hand to his side, and mutters another “Fuck!Just… I’ve got to go.”
