Page 1 of River
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Kara
“What the heck?”I close the door behind me quietly. “You can’t just turn up here like this. You’re going to get me fired!”
Wayland scratches his chin with a gnarly, tattoo-covered finger. “I can do what I goddamn pleased, Missy. You owe me money, and I’m here to collect.”
“Well, I don’t have it on me!”
“Not good enough.” He takes a step towards me. I can smell the stale coffee on his breath and the cheap cologne on his clothes. His ratlike face looks down at me, and I’m not afraid to admit, my legs start to wobble and I bite my lip to stop from screaming. “You knew what you were getting into when you took my fucking money. I told you. Don’t be late.”
“I’m not late.” My voice is a wobbly tremble. About two octaves higher than normal. I want to stand my ground, but I don’t have the guts. “I have until eight o’clock tonight to pay. I was going to come straight after work. I promise.”
He reaches out his hand and strokes his finger across my jawline. “Would be a shame to mess up that pretty face of yours.”
I push the hand away. “There’s not going to be any reason for that.”
“Good.”
He steps back and pulls a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. I watch him as he puts one in his mouth, gets a zippo lighter for his pocket, and takes a deep drag of smoke.
I have to hold my breath as he blows the stinky fumes in my face.
“Please, won’t you just go? You’ll get me fired and then I’ll never be able to pay you back.”
He flicks the half-smoked cigarette on the lawn. A blue-grey cloud billows out the end of it and evaporates amongst the leaves of a nearby bush.
“You’ll pay me back no matter what, Kara, baby. And if you lose your job, then I'll just have to put you to work somewhere else. Plenty of opportunities for a girl like you. Lots of men like a woman with a bit of extra weight on them. I mean, I can’t charge as much as the skinny, attractive girls. But, I could use a bit of photoshop on the ads and I’m sure there’s a couple of guys around town who might pay fifty bucks to have a ride.” He lets out a horrid laugh that makes my skin crawl. “Do that a couple of hundred times and you’ll be a free woman.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times. I try to think of something to say. I probably look like a goldfish, or one of those creepy dolls old fashioned people use to crack nuts with. But as much as I’d like to come up with a snarky, one-line come back, my mind is full of the horrible mental image Wayland just put there.
I don’t know whether I should be insulted that he’d try and sell me for a measly fifty bucks, or scared because this isn't some creepy, intimidation trick, but an actual, honest-to-god business plan. “Is that why you’re here now? Are you trying to get me to lose my job?”
“No.” He pulls another cigarette from his pack and lights it. “That was just an idea that popped into my head right this second. Not bad, though, is it?
“I just came here to check up on my investment.” He steps towards me again and grabs my wrist. He takes the cigarette from his lips with his other hand and puts it close to my skin. I can feel the heat start to burn me. I try and pull away, but he holds me firm. “I was expecting a phone call, Kara. I don’t like it when my clients don’t keep in contact. It makes me nervous. And I’m not a nice person when I’m nervous.
“Now, I’ve had to come down here in the middle of the day to tell you what’s what. Take time out of my busy schedule. I could be out playing with my son. In the park with my dog. Watching porn. Fucking a big titted girl. Sniffing cocaine of her oversized, surgically improved breasts. But instead, I’m out here in the fucking suburbs talking to a fatso like you. Reminding you that as of the moment you took my money, your biggest priority in life became making sure you pay me on time.”
“I’m sorry.” The cigarette gets even closer to my skin. I close my eyes and try not to cry. “I didn’t realize I was meant to call. I thought you were a busy man. I was just going to turn up and give you the money like we planned. I didn’t know! Please! I didn’t know!”
“Hey!”
Wayland’s head snaps around. I open my eyes and see a man standing behind him. A huge man. Six-four and barrel-chested with shoulders so wide I’d be surprised if he didn’t have to turn sideways just to pass through a door. I recognize him from all the photos I've seen, but I never realized how massive he is. He's like a giant. Or a god. Stepped down from heaven with a hammer in his hand and fists the size of boulders.
“Stay out of this,” Wayland sneers. “This don’t have nothing to do with you.”
The man opens the gate and steps towards us. His steely green eyes are locked on Wayland like he’s about to pounce at him and rip his head off.
“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy." His voice is deep and angry. Full of potential violence. All the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I don't know whether to run into his arms or run back into the house and lock the door behind me. "You see, this here is my mom’s house. And you’re on her property. And as it happens I don’t much like the look of you. So, unless you wanna end up in the hospital pissing into a bag, I’d recommend letting go of this woman, leaving, and never showing your ugly, rat face around here ever again.”
Wayland lets go of me and turns around.
For a second, I think he’s going to try something. A man like him, he might be carrying a gun or a knife. But, apparently, he thinks better of it. Instead, he spits on the floor and says, “fine. But you’re gonna regret saying that to me.” He turns back and points a finger at me. “And you. Don’t be late. Otherwise, we’ll be discussing the terms of that second job of yours. Capiche?”
“Capiche,” I mutter.
He barges past the bigger man, pushing him with his shoulder and flicking the rest of his cigarette on the lawn.
