“Is that what happened? It was more like a move on or have your life ruined type of thing,” he grates much to himself before speaking up and more clearly with an exasperated shaking of his head. “Listen, Rayna, what happened that day is water under the bridge. As you know I’ve moved on. I’m sure you haven’t had a problem doing the same.” He glances down at the rings on my left hand. His tone and body language reads impatient. He isn’t comfortable or happy to be in my company. I don’t know I feel about that.
“I just…I’ve always felt guilty for how things went down that day. You were just being a…guy…and I led you to believe that I was available when things hadn’t been settled between Azmir and me.” I pause to blow out a frustrated breath. “I-I’m sorry is all that I’ve been wanting to say and apparently I’ve dragged my feet on it and you left the firm to put some room between you and the drama…”
“Let’s get one thing clear: I didn’t leave Smith, Katz & Adams. My abrupt departure was not voluntary. What is clear is you don’t have a fucking clue about what went down right in front of your eyes,” he speaks through gritted teeth. I can see anger, slowly stirring within his eyes. He throws John a cursory glance over my shoulder and then roughly brushes his head with his hands as he slightly turns. He’s wrestling with something, but he’s right I don’t understand what’s happened.
“Did they fire you because of the fight?” I’m grasping at straws. “I mean…I was expecting you to press charges—and I’m grateful you didn’t—but I didn’t expect for you to drop us as a client, Thompson.”
“Oh, I wanted to do more than press charges. I wanted to sue that fucker for what happened. His hands used to be registered for Christ’s sake!” I know he’s referring to Azmir’s days as an amateur boxer. That mention brings back images of Azmir executing measured jabs into Thompson’s face. I grimace at that. “But he had the footage that proves I hit him first—several times before he was ‘forced to defend himself,’” Thompson uses air quotations. “Oh, he was quick to throw that argument into the ring. And the more I think about, I believe that S.O.B. planned it that way. No matter how random and chaotic things got that afternoon, there’s something very strategic about Jacobs’ involvement in it all.”
Suddenly feeling eerie, I transfer the weight from one leg to the other while holding myself. He’s speaking about my husband as if he’s some sinister mastermind.
Nope. Azmir will never approve of this, Rayna!
“He not only took my job, Rayna, that fucker took my life! I’ve been on leave from my own firm for months behind some catch-a-tail game that turned legal before I could recover from the bruises from that fight,” Thompson speaks so hard, his breathing gives out. The anger has surfaced and I don’t know how long it will be before it overflows. “And his arms…his people…his influence.” Thompson exhales hard again. “Being an attorney, I thought I’d fight back by looking into him, hoping to find something that would pump his breaks,” he snorts before looking directly into my eyes. “Jacobs is a very connected man. The things he’s been able to pull off. The way he’s been able to put my life on hold…put me in a tailspin.”
“Brian,” I caution. He’s speaking words of my husband that has a semblance of Mafia in it. My husband. As if he’s at the helm of an organized family. Or is a Keyser S?ze reincarnate. “You’ve demonstrated that there has been a bit of a war going on beneath my nose. And I see it’s caused you some trouble with your Smith, Katz & Adams account and possibly your firm—I can assure you I will be talking to him about that tonight. But, Thompson, Azmir isn’t some ruthless underworld leader. He’s an astute businessman, albeit one who allowed his personal life to take over his better judgment. I’m sure now with cooler heads prevailing, we can right some wrongs.”
Thompson squints his eyes in incredulity. And I don’t know how long I can hold onto my cool veneer. I’m two minutes from cussing him out something proper.
“How much do you know about…” He gives a cursory glance to reference my rings. “…the man that you’re most connected to in the biblical sense? I mean…” He inches closer. And in the rear of me I can hear John issuing clear and terse words of warning, to which Thompson completely ignores. “I can’t say too much because of the gag order, but you should consider the man you’ve taken on a life with. He has loads of dirty laundry in his warehouse of a closet.”
“That’s it,” John yelps forcefully, but without alarming outside parties.
Thompson’s heedful glare stays on me as John shoves him back towards his waiting companion. A chill runs through me. One that I cannot identify. He’s spoken so hauntingly and I don’t understand the source of his audacity. How can he be so assured about someone who’s a virtual stranger to him?
I pay for my Snickers bar and we leave for the marina. I wanted my closure with Brian Thompson and I got it. It’s just that I don’t quite know what to make of it.
~~~~~~~~~~