I don’t enjoy this aspect, but it’s a necessity. If you let one man push you around, the others will know they can push you, too. And that can’t happen. Ever.
It only takes one time to fall. One chance for them to knock you down and tear you apart. Like what happened with my mother. She let them see behind the cracks, and she never recovered.
I shove my hands back into my pockets. I'm still wearing thin leather gloves. It’s not so uncommon for them to be worn this early in March. But inside the building, it’s warm. And I don’t need to be seen wearing them and drawing any suspicion.
Ding.
The twenty-sixth floor comes faster than I anticipated. Showtime.
My dress shoes slap on the hard slate floor as I walk past the two office spaces on my right. My shoulders are straight as I walk with ease past the large glass fronts of the offices. They’re all nearly identical in appearance, neatly lined up rows of glass boxes. Each one houses some sort of profession. I stop abruptly and turn on my heels as I spot 2614.
Although my blood’s heating, my heart’s hammering and I’m certain everyone can see the fire in my eyes, on the surface I’m the same man I always am. Nonthreatening, happy. Not a care in the world.
I keep my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels as I smile down at the receptionist. Forcing the charm to stay in place.
“Mr. Payne,” the young woman at the front of the office behind a small white desk greets as she rises to her feet, finally feeling my eyes on her. “May I take your coat?” she asks politely, already holding out her hand. I’ve been in here several times before, but this is the first time she’s remembered who I am.
“No, thank you,” I say easily. “I don’t have an appointment. I was just hoping to catch Mr. Brooks before he left.” I think the woman’s name is Delores. I’m almost certain of it. My eyes flicker to the name on her desk plate and I see it there, in thick bold letters. “I appreciate it though, Delores.” She brightens at the use of her name. “Do you know if he’s in?” I ask the question as I turn from her slightly, angling my body so she knows I’m headed that way.
“He is,” she nods happily and takes a seat, scooting her chair back in.
“Have a wonderful weekend,” I tell her, dipping my head and walking off as she calls out, “You too, Mr. Payne!”
My feet move of their own accord, everything seeming to narrow in my vision. The sound of my shoes against the thin, cheap carpet is being drowned out by the white noise ringing in my ears.
As soon as I stand in front of his door, every ounce of the facade is gone. I knock once, but I don’t wait for a response. Instead I open the door and walk in, kicking it shut behind me as I put my hands back into my pockets.
I casually look over at Danny Brooks, who at first seems shocked but then annoyed.
“I’m not sure if you could hear me, Mr. Payne,” Brooks starts to speak while his eyes are on me, but then he looks back at his screen and begins typing, the sound of tiny clicks accompanying his voice, “but I’m currently busy.”
“I got your message,” I tell him with my hands still hidden.
Brooks barely looks up to acknowledge me, his head still down as he types on the computer without pausing to answer me. “You’ll have to make an appointment,” he says and his voice is low as he blows me off. It’s easy for associates to do when they first meet me and before they’ve finished doing business with me.
I walk slowly to the side of his desk and it’s only then that he stops, his fingers hovering just above the keys. His lower back presses into the thin leather seat, making it creak as he sits straighter and finally acknowledges me. “Yes, it’s going to take a little longer than I anticipated.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as if I’m a bother to him. As if my mere presence has caused him undue distress or a headache.
The smile finally grows on my face as he continues to underestimate me.
“You aren’t able to make the payment?” I ask him, although it’s a question, not a statement. My feet move slowly, taking steady strides, rounding his desk but still staying a few feet away, seemingly nonthreatening as I lean back against the wall casually.
“I don’t believe so.” He types a word, maybe two and then gives me a look of irritation as he turns in his seat and lets out an exasperated sigh. “What can I do for you, Mr. Payne?” he asks in a voice laced with condescension.
I love it, the irony of it. But that’s how men like him behave. They act as if they own you. When really they don’t have a damn thing to their name, and you own them.
I shrug and look to my left. The blinds to his small window are closed, so the office is rather dark, and also quiet. It’s nearly perfect. But the walls are thin. Luckily, it’s past five on a Friday and Mr. Brooks is surrounded by empty office spaces.
I walk closer to him as I speak with an even cadence. “Why is the payment delayed?” I ask him, as if I’m curious. As if it’s acceptable to go back on our deal. As if it’s fine to piss away half a million that he can’t afford to pay back.
The fucker scoffs at me and rolls his eyes.
I don’t hesitate to rip my hand from my pocket, grab the back of his head and slam it on the desk. Once, then again. There’s no blood; his nose didn’t even hit the hard wood surface, only his forehead.
He’s merely dizzy as I grab him by the collar and pull him up so his face is just beneath mine. “Was it a sure bet?” I ask him, my voice a sneer. My muscles are tight and coiled. I’m on edge and seeing nothing but red now.
“Zander-” he begins, and my name is a strained plea.
Brooks starts to speak, but I don’t give him a moment to continue. I push him backward, his chair rolling across the floor as the backs of his knees smack against it. “There are no sure bets.” I push the words through clenched teeth.
It wouldn’t have come to this if he’d shown respect at least. It wasn’t his money to piss away.
My grip tightens as I haul his back against the wall, slamming his spine against the drywall and denting it from the force. My teeth clench as my left hand forms a fist and I land a blow into his kidney. My muscles are taut and adrenaline is rushing through me. My head feels light; my breathing is heavy.
A loud grunt spills from his lips until I tighten my hand around his throat, feeling his blood rushing just beneath the surface and his throat giving in to the brute force of my weight. Both of his hands instantly reach for my hand on his neck, his blunt fingernails scratching against the glove on my hand. It’s no use. I’m not letting go until he receives this message loud and clear.
I lean in close to his ear and hiss between clenched teeth, “You’ll pay me all of it by the twenty-fifth of April. Or I’ll destroy you.” I pull away to look into his eyes. The milky whites have turned red around the edges, his face is a brighter shade of red, and his hands are still struggling at my grip. I hold his eyes, so full of sheer terror, only for a moment longer before releasing him.
I leave him there, heaving for air in a slump on the floor as I walk quickly to the door, shaking out my hand and ignoring the force inside of me begging to unleash itself. Begging for a fight.
“Wait. I have something you may want,” Brooks calls out in a croak. His words stop me midstep, but I continue momentarily, ignoring him and turning the doorknob.