The doctor’s eyes go wide, and he shrinks back. "I, uh..."
"What's the matter, doc?" Vito asks, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer, too. "I thought we were all just guys here, talking about bitches and tits?"
The doctor's breath hitches. His gaze darts between my face and Vito’s, and the blood drains out of his, leaving him sallow and sweat-beaded at the temples.
“I—That was—That’s not what I meant—”
I give Vito an exaggerated surprised look. "That's not what he meant, he says."
"It sure sounded like that's what he meant," Vito says conversationally.
“It’s an expression,” the doctor stammers, hands coming up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. I was just… trying to relate.”
"That's his future wife, you know," Vito continues.
Future wife.
Wife.
I like the sound of that.
"You jerk off to my future wife, doc?" I ask. "Think about her in your car? The one your wife nags you about?"
“No,” he breathes, shaking his head. “God, no. I was just… talking.”
"See, I think he's lying," Vito says to me.
"Oh, I think he's lying too," I agree. "You see... that rack? It's mine. And that woman? She's mine. And her dad? He's mine."
I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "And you? You just became mine too."
"Always wanted a doctor," Vito says gleefully.
“I didn’t— I’m not a bad person,” the doctor whispers, and it’s pathetic.
“Sure you are,” Vito says brightly. “You’re a terrible person. You got sloppy, you got caught, and now you’re trying to blame the person you wronged. While thinking about her rack. That’s the dictionary definition of a bad person. You might be worse than I am, and I’m pretty fucking terrible.”
"I—I— Money. Just tell me how much you want," he says desperately.
“Money’s not going to fix this,” I say.
The doctor stares at me, his mind scrambling for purchase.
"What are you going to do?" he asks, the question barely a puff of air.
I smile, and it's not a nice smile.
"We make a deal," I say. I lean in closer, my breath near his ear. "If he dies, you die. And since I'm not a doctor like you, I can't guarantee I'll get it right the first time, so I'll have to keep trying and trying and trying."
The doctor’s whole body convulses with a flinch.
"And if he doesn't die," I continue, "you're my bitch. But you'll be alive."
I pull back slightly, giving him some space to breathe. I hold the doctor's terrified gaze for another beat, letting the silence stretch until it’s thick enough to choke on.
"The fuck you waiting for, bitch?" I snap.
And like a shot, the doctor stumbles away, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape. He doesn't look back. He just runs.
