Ashton’s fingers caressed my face. “All things I’m glad you’ll know with that asshole roaming the streets.”
That reminded me. Yesterday, Ashton had been arrested for kidnapping me. “Should you be doing this today? After being arrested yesterday, I mean.”
He shrugged. “It goes with the territory. If we back down because the police search our businesses looking for evidence—evidence they are never going to find—then we look weak to our clients. We can’t have them thinking they won’t have to pay us back if the police are involved.”
Brock added, “With Ashton taking the meeting tonight, it proves that they still need to pay the money back—that the police can’t do a thing to stop it.”
Before I could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door, and my heart leaped to my throat. The door opened slowly and a cart was wheeled in.
Our food.
I swallowed, trying to cover up just how scared I’d been. The memories of that first night were a bit fuzzy after Dominic left. My stomach started to rumble. I hadn’t been in the mood to eat much throughout the day. I got about two bites into my meal when another knock sounded. That one had to be the man there to meet Ashton.
Brock stood and walked over to open the door. A small, portly man with thinning black hair walked in, a book bag on his back. He was dressed like every other guy in the stadium: shorts, jersey, and sneakers. There was nothing conspicuous about him. Had I seen him in the hallway, I would never have believed he was there to pay off a loan shark.
“Anthony.”
I glanced to my left and was shocked at what I saw. The man with the smile that could melt my heart was no longer sitting next to me. In his place, was a man with a look of cold determination in his eyes.
I noticed the slight tremor to the guy’s hands. He looked at me for a second but seeing Ashton’s face he quickly averted his gaze.
“Mr. Hawes. I . . . umm . . . I have a problem.”
“And, what would that be.” Ashton’s tone was cool and clipped, not what I was used to hearing.
“I . . . uh . . . only have . . . uh . . . part of the money.” Anthony stuttered his response. Clearly he was terrified.
And I was about to see why.
“What? I don’t think I heard you right.” Ashton didn’t shout, like I expected. He didn’t even raise his voice. Instead his words were low, menacing, and it hit me that this kind of calm was a prelude to danger. Brock stood, his shoulders hunched, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Brock made me feel safe in his presence, but I knew the man in front of me didn’t feel the same way. And rightly so. I remembered how I’d felt the first time I saw him. Brock was an imposing individual. It’d taken me months to get used to him.
It took all of my willpower not to say or do anything. Ashton and Brock had been doing this for years. Whatever their plan, I needed to watch and see it fall into place if I were to make a fair decision about this part of his life.
“Mr. Hawes—”
Ashton put his hand up and Anthony immediately closed his mouth.
“How much?”
Anthony swallowed hard. “Seventy-five thousand.”
“Twenty-five thousand short.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ashton steepled his fingers in front of his face and stared at Anthony. After a few more seconds, he finally spoke.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.” Anthony bobbed his head up and down, setting the bag down while Ashton continued speaking. “Since this is the first time you’ve been short, I’m going to give you another chance. You have two weeks.” Anthony’s shoulders relaxed, but it was too soon. “But you’ll bring me forty thousand, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Hawes. I can do that.”
He wasted no time backing toward the door. When his hand closed over the handle, Ashton called out his final warning. “Just remember—you turn up light again, we won’t be having a discussion like this.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you Mr. Hawes.”
Ashton didn’t even take the time to watch the man leave. He simply picked up his knife and fork and resumed eating. And that’s when it hit me—Ashton was playing a part. His audience may be smaller, his stage more informal, his performance more intimate, but that’s what it was. A performance.
When the curtain went up and the spotlight was on him, he became the character he needed to be. He followed the script his father, and his father before, had written, revised, and perfected. Ashton was no different to me. And if he could accept that I changed when I was doing my job, surely I could accept the same?
I knew Ashton. He wasn’t the monster they thought he was. But if I was asked to choose, I’d want him to play his part to perfection. Because Ashton’s acting kept him safe.