“You went down easy-peasy, so I'm gonna give you ten more seconds to explain what the fuck's going on here before I break your damned nose too. Start talking, asshole. One...”
“Jesus, you're Gary Sterner's son, aren't you?” The fucker tries to shake his head in disbelief. I jerk it still, making him spit blood.
“Two.”
“Ow! Fuck. Okay, okay! I didn't think she'd freak out like that. I decided she wasn't a good fit for our firm on the way back from a drink, and she agreed. Come on, Tyler, you've got to understand this is all just business and I didn't mean any –“
“You don't get to use my fucking name!” I rip his head backward and punch him in the temple with my other fist. “You wanna talk about respect? Start by apologizing for the shit you did!”
Fuckface howls his pain. I always keep my promises.
“Ty! No, no, no! Tyyyy!” I hear a faint sound behind me.
It's Claire, beating on the window with her palms, begging me to spare this piece of shit. Hell, I wasn't gonna kill him, just rough him the fuck up 'til I know he's really sorry for making her cry.
Whatever, I get it. The interrogation's over. It doesn't take a damned FBI file to piece together what's going on here.
The fuck made a move on her, she turned him down, and he threw a tantrum like the little boy he is. I've known enough overly sensitive trust fund kids in my time, and I've fought like hell all my life not to end up the same way thanks to the family wealth.
“Here's what's gonna happen – you'll pick your sorry ass up, walk into the office, and come back with a box of her stuff. Then I'm gonna watch you get in your car and drive off. Whatever the fuck you owe her, it'll be in her account tomorrow. And I'm talking about the full eight weeks she was supposed to be working for you assholes.” I pause. “Wait, nah, better make it double. I know she did good work for your sorry ass. Consider it severance pay.”
“Are you nuts? I can't do it! We're a non-profit, man, don't you get what that means!”
“Yeah, I know. Except you're raking in enough in donations for your old man to take months off at a time golfing the same swanky greens my dad wishes he had time for. Don't feed me that bullshit. I'll tell you what, having plastic surgery on your whole fuckin' face is gonna cost a whole lot more than I'm asking for Claire. You're getting off with a drop in the bucket.” I bring my lips to his ear, so close he feels the lava I'm steaming outta my mouth. “Don't let me change my mind.”
I tighten my hold on the bastard's head 'til he nods. Slowly, I let him up, and stand by his car while he runs inside. I don't give a shit if he calls security or drags his feet cleaning up the pile he laid in his damned boxers.
I'll bust his fucking windows out and wring his fucking neck if there's any funny business. If I'm going away in handcuffs for flipping my shit and protecting my girl, then I'll leave his ass with some shit that'll last a whole lot longer than any jail time for my sorry ass.
Turkey boy comes trotting out about four minutes later. He's got Claire's photos, some papers, and the little bonsai tree she kept on her desk stacked neatly in a box. He shoves it into my arms and gives me another sour look.#p#分页标题#e#
I point it at him while I start walking backwards toward the car, never letting the fuck outta my sight. “You keep your goddamned mouth shut, you hear? If I find out you go to the press, or try to pin this on my family, I'm gonna come back. If I find out you send Claire a dime less than she's owed, or you fuck with her in any way, you'll see me again. We'll finish what we started today, believe me. And next time there won't be any ten second grace period. Now, go the fuck home and get that jaw wired shut.”
The fucker actually sniffs. He's got hot tears in his eyes, the kind a man makes when he's shamed and beaten. Asshole doesn't realize he's lucky that's all I let him off with. A little ego stroke and an adjustment or two at the chiropractor will have him good as new.
Whatever, him and I are done. All that matters is that it's easy for Claire to say goodbye.
I throw her stuff in the trunk and then hop in the driver's seat, buckling my belt and waiting 'til her fuck of a boss drives out ahead of us.
We hit the road. She's got her face glued to the passenger window, refusing to look at me. She doesn't turn around and say a damned thing 'til we're halfway home.
“Goddamn it, Ty. I'm never going to live it down. Never. What you did back there...”
“What I did?” I shoot her a stern look. “Sounds to me like we outta talk about what your fucked up boss did before we get on my behavior.”
She purses her lips, but doesn't say anything. I keep pressing her.