It’s decided, I’ll date Peter. His views on women are centuries ahead of Jonas’s antiquated notions. He’s a lot more fun when he lets me develop an idea without constantly interrupting me with his own examples and stories. We’re on the same page on lots of things. He truly respects me.
It occurs to me that Peter’s unusual behavior might’ve had less to do with me than with Jonas, that what I witnessed was an alpha and beta male dynamic. But I chase that thought away.
We finish off our drinks. Ordering more would be unwise, given that we must be fresh for tomorrow’s performance. As much as I’m enjoying sparring with Jonas… um, I meant to say, enjoying Peter’s company, it’s time to go home.
Outside, the night air that surrounds the pub’s entrance is murky with smoke. We step up our pace to get away from it. The air turns crispy. The sky is pitch-dark with no stars or moon to brighten it. Fortunately, the streetlamps cast orange haloes around us, illuminating our way ahead. But after we round the next corner, there’s a stretch that’s cloaked in darkness. All the lamps are out.
Breakdown? Vandalism?
I quicken my steps. Trains whir and screech nearby. The chilly wind makes me shiver.
Out of nowhere, two male figures appear from the shadows. Their faces are obscured by darkness. I can just make out their silhouettes and menacing stance.
They block our way.
CHAPTER20
MARGOT
I grip my purse tighter. Peter moves closer to me. Jonas takes a step ahead, his posture aggressive, signaling he’s ready to fight. A cold dread creeps over me as the men pull out big, long, very mean-looking knives as they approach us. For a moment, no one says anything. The muffled noises of the tracks fade away, leaving only the sound of my own labored breathing.
Then one of the thugs breaks the silence, “Give us everything you have.”
His calm, oddly businesslike tone sends a chill down my spine.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Peter says. “Take what we’ve got, and let us be on our way.”
While Peter and I reach for our wallets, Jonas doesn’t budge.
“For fuck’s sake,” Peter hisses at him. “Just give them your valuables. Our lives are more precious.”
He’s right. This isn’t a time to play strong and dangerous or whatever. This is real.
“Please,” I urge Jonas. “Just do as he said.”
As if coming to his senses, he nods and empties his pockets.
Phew. Reason won.
The bullies collect our money, watches, phones, and my gold necklace—Dad’s present—and shove everything into a backpack. They tell Jonas to hand them his coat, too. Because they like it.
With nothing of value left to give, we shuffle backward.
Please, let them go away now!
But they don’t seem in a hurry.
The one who hadn’t said a word until now points at my well-worn puffer coat. “I want that, too.”
You won’t be able to resell it, idiot!“I bought it in a thrift shop five years ago,” I say.
“Shut your mouth and take it off!”
I obey.
While his associate grabs the coat, the bully steps closer to me, too close, and leers. “You are a beauty!”
“Leave her alone,” Jonas growls.
