Page 20 of Damaged

It’s actually pretty brutal.

He’s actually bleeding quite badly.

“We should go,” I say.

“Quickly,” Alex adds. We walk calmly from our row and towards the doors as the crowd cheers and Roman begs the cocks for the mercy.

No one stops us. Maybe it’s the expensive suits or more likely our combined height of more than twelve and a half feet.

We step back out into the cold. The bouncer is gone. He’s waddling down the street at an attempt to run as three police cars pull up.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Alex says as the policemen get out of their cars.

The cops stare at us as they jog to the doors but decide the two men in tailored suits aren’t worth arresting. Their priority are the bookies and organizers, not the betters.

Alex sighs. “Well, that satisfies my conscience.”

They disappear inside, the only sound the jiggle of handcuffs on their utility belts.

“Mine, too,” I say.

We head in the direction of where Roman’s car dropped us off, our shoulders hunched against the wind.

I’m not furious at Alex for putting us in that situation. Sometimes you get a bad potential customer. The kind that working with is like chewing glass.

I’m just glad Alex figured out the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze on this one.

“It’s my bad, James. This guy was less of a shit the first time I met him.”

“But he still talked like a wannabe gangster?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, probably best not to trust someone with blond bangs who acts like they’re from Compton.”

“It’s not my finest hour.”

“You owe me one,” I say suddenly. It’s because I want Alex to be in my favor and not the other way around.

“Yeah. Yeah. But don’t think about asking for a pass with Sophia… You’re not sleeping with her.”

I almost want to roll my eyes. Why does he think I’m obsessed with her? “I think you mentioned that already.”

We find Roman’s car waiting where we were dropped off. We take it back to the rathskeller, telling his driver we have Roman’s blessing.

Twenty minutes later, Alex and I are back at our table, sipping two new scotches like nothing ever happened.

Sophia

I’m going to get a little existential. I genuinely like life most of the time. I like the little things. Like tea and books and food and hot baths after shitty days.

Death is a big fear of mine, okay?

I’m saying all this because I would like my life to go on, except, that is, when I’m scrolling through job listings on Indeed.

All these positions look awful. The high-paying ones look worse than the low-paying ones. Eternal nothingness feels like a debatably better alternative thanOrganizational Compliance Support Officer.

And then there’s the phrasing.

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