“Nice try,” he scoffs. “But the thing is, I don’t give a shit what your sob story is. Hard times, whatever. Everybody’s gotta pay the rent somehow, and if you’re not makin’ ends meet sellin’ soap to rich bitches, then it looks like you’re gonna have to make up the deficit some other way.”
He looks me up and down, stepping closer. The smell of his cheap cologne is so overbearing it almost makes my eyes water. I know what he’s implying, and that’s all it takes to send my thoughts hurtling back in time.
I’m shivering. It’s not even cold, but my body won’t stop convulsing. I feel sick to my stomach, but I know if I throw up they’ll just hurt me more. What am I going to do? How am I going to survive…?
“Listen, you spoiled little brat. I know Daddy’s not around to spank you anymore, but if you need someone else to step in and whip your sweet little ass into shape, I’m your man,” Lorenzo growls, the faint hint of a lascivious smile playing on his filthy lips.
Just then, there’s the jingle from the front door, and all four of us whip around at the sound to see another man in the doorway. My stomach does a somersault. It’s the guy from a few days ago! My mystery man. But what the hell is he doing here? I feel guilty instantly, knowing that now this man is in danger, too, because he’s unwittingly interrupted mafia business. He’s a witness now. And it’s all my fault. I want to call out to him, tell him to leave, but my voice is caught in my throat.
“Who’s this?” Lorenzo growls under his breath. Then, he shouts, “Who the fuck are you? Get out of here. This is private. Shop’s closed.”
The mystery guy pushes back the hood of his jacket to reveal a scruffy, handsome face with a coarse black beard, framed by long, gently curling black hair. There’s a wildness to his face that thrills me, even in the tense danger of the moment.
“Shit, that’s one of the Costa boys,” says one of Lorenzo’s goons.
Costa? My heart skips a beat. Another mafia guy. I should have known.
“Leave. Now. Before anyone has to get hurt,” commands the mystery guy. His voice is like crushed velvet, deep and rumbling. It thrums through my body down to my core, and I shiver.
Lorenzo lets out a cruel laugh. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have us just walk outta here before we get a chance to break that pretty-boy face of yours. You think that beard can hide you? I know who the hell you are. And this is no business of yours. Get out.”
The Costa guy approaches slowly, shaking his head. “You really don’t wanna mess with me.”
All three of the others guffaw at his threat. “Right, sure, there are three of us and one of you. I’m sure we should all be scared right now, huh? You don’t fuckin’ scare me, man. But if you wanna go, we’ll go. No sweat off my back. In fact, my boys have been itchin’ for some target practice, right, boys?”
The two goons nod, grinning as they saunter toward Mystery Guy, squaring up for a fight.
“No,” I breathe, terrified. But within the next few seconds, a flash of violent movement breaks out right in front of me, as the two goons move to swing at my Mystery Guy.
To my surprise, he manages to dodge them both, and there’s a series of sickening crunches as his fist collides with one face and the other hand strikes a neck. They both swivel around, lumbering clumsily like two enraged bulls, only to be manhandled to the ground as Mystery Guy uses their own weight against him. He takes out a pistol, and with a flash of fluorescent light on silver metal, bashes them both upside the head. I scream at the sight of the gun, instinctively ducking down behind the counter. Lorenzo abandons me to take on the Mystery Guy, and even though I can’t see what’s going on, I can hear them.
“You wanna take me on, too?” growls Mystery Guy.
“You little fuckin’ bitch!” yelps Lorenzo. There is a brief tussle and then I hear the telltale slam of knuckles against jawbone, and there’s a stomach-turning cracking noise as Lorenzo cries out in agony. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit is getting real!
I hear the scramble of heavy, faltering footsteps and the jingle of the front door. Lorenzo sneers, “I’ll remember this, you Costa piece of shit! This is just the beginning, motherfucker. You’re gonna regret interfering with the Cleaners!”
“Yeah, you’ll remember me when I mail your teeth back to you, asshole!” shouts back Mystery Guy, and the door slams shut. I stay cowering behind the counter, my knees pulled to my chest, while my heart races along at a stammering rhythm.
I hear footsteps approaching and I steel myself for whatever harm is due to come my way. After all, three mafia guys may be gone, but there’s still one more left: Mystery Guy. He might hail from a different gang, but he’s still a dangerous man, and I have no reason to believe that he’s really here to help me. For all I know, that could have just been a tussle over territory, over who gets to terrorize me next.
So when Mystery Guy comes around behind the counter and offers me a hand to help me up, I hesitate for a long moment before taking it. I slowly look up at him to meet his gaze. I take in his dark clothing, the sleeves pushed to his elbows to reveal blood smeared along his hands and forearms, remnants of the battle. I stare at his face, that strangely familiar expression hidden behind a tangle of scraggly hair and beard. As soon as my eyes lock with his, it’s like I’m hypnotized. His eyes peer down into my very being, to stroke the depths of my wounded soul.
It’s almost overwhelming, that stare. Too much to take in.
But why? And how?
“I won’t hurt you,” he says softly, and that familiar thrum shakes through me. Stiffly, as though in a trance, I hold out my hand and take his. He pulls me to my feet, then places both hands on my shoulders, his eyes peering into my face with genuine concern.
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you before I got here?” he asks. I manage to shake my head. I somehow tear my eyes away from his and notice that some of the blood on his hands and arms seems to be his own, and that he’s injured.
“I-I’m okay,” I murmur, “but you’re hurt.”
He takes his hands off of me and curls them into fists hanging at his sides. “No, I’m alright. It’s nothing at all. As long as you’re okay… I’ll go.”
As he turns to leave, some kind of strange impulse takes hold of my body and I reach out to stop him, my hands falling at his chest. He stops and looks down at me, eyes flashing. For a moment, I’m almost frightened by the wildness of that expression, but then he softens.