Azmir, without looking at them, raised his left index finger in the air. The gang stopped in their tracks. “Legal Eagle,” Azmir spoke firmly. Even through my drunken state, I presumed it was cryptic for lawyer.
He then looked over to me and roared, “You stay the fuck put until I get there!”
That’s when Ray practically lifted me in the air, pulling me away from Azmir and Thompson. I wanted to scream and to pull from Ray’s grasp, but before I could sway my body, I saw Azmir walk into Thompson’s person with his head cocked to the side, saying something that wasn’t audible. I couldn’t hear what Thompson said in return either, but saw when he took another jab at Azmir that Azmir caught effortlessly midair. He grabbed Thompson’s fist and with lightning speed struck him square in the face twice, causing blood to squirt from his face before Thompson’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the ground. Azmir stood over him, still speaking as if Thompson was in any condition to respond.
Thompson’s body was sprawled out and motionless on the concrete. Just like the guy on the dance floor with me last summer, Thompson didn’t see his doom coming. Azmir was a quiet storm, unassuming and I think that’s the way he wanted to be reputed. As Ray placed me in the car, I heard Azmir’s voice raise as he repeatedly asked him, “Didn’t I fuckin’ warn you to stay away from her?”
It tore at my chest to see Azmir so angry and in acrimony while I was being hauled off, unable to calm him. Thompson was laid out on the ground, bloodied without Azmir even breaking a sweat.
~~~~~~~~~~
I sat on the sofa back at the marina with tears streaming down my tightened and stained face. In the past thirty minutes, I’d cried an abundance of tears—some that had dried, making tracks down my trembling cheeks and others fresher, tasting of bitter regret. Guilt had settled in while I rewound time and replayed it over and over again in my mind. My chest heaved in my blouse violently, my diaphragm was hyperactive with spasms. My quivering lips were moist from the warm breaths that rushed through my mouth. As my cosmopolitan high came down, I couldn’t believe the many lapses in judgment that led me to this agonizing place.
Was Azmir arrested? Was Thompson hospitalized? Will this ruin Azmir’s image? Will I have a job? How will I deal with his pending hatred of me? I couldn’t begin to piece together a plan of resolve after this.
Was it worth it?
The plan was to sit. And wait.
Ray kindly walked me to the door and let me in. I didn’t have my keys. Azmir had snatched them from the ground after they’d dropped from my hand when he pulled me from Thompson’s fold. I couldn’t go home to check on Azna. He needed to be let out and fed, he can’t call for help. Will Azmir call from the county jail? He wouldn’t call me, he has handlers for that. The cogs of my mind wouldn’t slow.
Will Brett be calling me with the news? Perhaps Dawn Taylor. Oh, god! What have I done? My fretful thoughts wouldn’t halt.
I jumped and swung my body around when I heard the door snatched open. Azmir’s lengthy physique forced through the door frame, cupping Azna in one arm while carrying two duffle bags on his other shoulder. I immediately recognized them. They were the same ones I packed from here when I left him last week. His eyes seized mine right away. I steeled.
He dropped the bags from his shoulder and let down Azna, who didn’t run over to me. Instead my little fur ball ran toward the back of the apartment, possibly looking for his old toys. Azmir sauntered past me and over to the bar there in the living room near the waterfront view of the picturesque marina. He snatched a tumbler and poured a half a glass of brandy and in seconds, drained it before going for another. Seconds felt like hours anticipating his next move. The silence was deafening, but my throat was constricted and fear gripped my liberty to speak. He emptied the second glass of amber juice and slammed it on the bar, spewing mumbled profanities. My sweaty hands clawed the sofa.