You were so damn tired after working your second job and finishing up an 18-hour day. All you wanted to do was get home, eat, and sleep. It was Friday, and you managed to have a whole weekend off. It was just after 2:30 AM. When you got off the bus at your stop, your body realized it had 7 more blocks to walk before you got home if you took your normal route. But if you took a shortcut or two, you could damn near cut that in half. The way you felt, it was a no-brainer.
Instead of walking down the well-lit streets, you cut down an alley and started walking past and through abandoned apartment complexes, warehouses, and storefronts. Broken glass and brick crunched underfoot, graffiti and crumbling buildings all around. You rarely took these shortcuts because, honestly, this was not the safest area to walk through. Hell, your apartment had crumbling buildings on both sides of it. It wasn’t the Taj Mahal either, but it was reasonably clean, had security doors, and best of all, it was cheap compared to other parts of the city.
You’re a pretty big guy at 6'2" and 260 pounds. Most people left you alone. You looked like more trouble than you were worth. Crackheads and meth heads were after money, but nothing more than that. Most of the gangs also let you be because you didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother you. Nothing to be gained. Hell, you were too old to recruit for anything. 40 was ancient in some of their eyes. Strangely, it was really quiet tonight. The closer you got to home, the fewer people you saw. Not that there were tons of people on the streets at 2 AM, but there were the usual characters you expected to see.
You were walking through the gangway, just about home. All you needed to do was turn left at the end of the tunnel, and your apartment building was 2 doors down. You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard a deep voice say,
“Hey, buddy. Lemme talk to you a minute.”
Just at the end of the gangway, sitting on the steps of an old apartment building, was a big man in a sleeveless hoodie. Even though there was a streetlight not even 30 feet away, he seemed to be cloaked in shadow. You could see his size clearly: massive arms covered in veins and tattoos, powerful legs stretching his jeans, big black scuffed lineman boots on his feet. He had a massive gold chain around his neck, and the sparkle of gold and diamonds on his fingers twinkled in the night. His face was in shadow under the hoodie, but his eyes almost shone like two moons in the dark.
You didn’t say anything, and he stood up, and, fuck, he seemed to expand. He went from big to massive. Even 10 feet away and standing 3 steps above you, you could tell he was a magnitude bigger than you. You managed to mumble,
You could see a sharp smile in the shadow of the hoodie. His eyes were like lasers staring into your own. He started walking down the steps toward you.
“I said, lemme talk to you a minute.”
Although it was supposed to be a question, he said it like “no” wasn’t on the table. When he reached the bottom step, he was easily 3 inches taller than you, and this man was 400-plus pounds of muscle if he was an ounce.
While his face was still in shadow, you could see more of it. Hard, brutal, clean-shaven, but his jaw and cheeks were covered in heavy short stubble. It had been a long time since you’d met someone so physically imposing that you didn’t know what to do.
His eyes looked you up and down in that way some men have of measuring your worth, and they found you wanting. Under normal circumstances, this would have made you mad, but now it made your balls crawl up into your body. When his eyes met yours, he had a smile like a shark.
He lifted one of those massive arms, gesturing back down the dark gangway. The gold and diamond jewelry on his hands and wrist flashed again under the streetlamps.
“Why don’t we step down here, talk privately.”
He stepped closer, crowding your space.
There was no request here. This was a command. Before you knew what you were doing, you were walking down the gangway, a massive shadow behind you, his heavy boot steps echoing in the tunnel.
When you were about to walk past a dark doorway, he said,
Your brain screamed at you to do anything but go in there, yet his voice went straight to the animal part of you, and you did what it told you. You walked past the broken door into what was a basement storage room. Nothing but crumbling walls, broken furniture, random garbage.
He came in behind you and stood in front of you.
“Listen, buddy. We can make this real easy. Tell me what I wanna know, you walk. I ain’t got beef with you.
But you lie to me, make me work for it, you ain’t gonna like it. I will, ’cause I’m sick like that.
I’m fair, I’m reasonable… till I don’t get what I want. You feel me?”
He was close enough that you could feel the heat off his body, waves of dominance rolling off him.
“Sure, man. Tell me what you want.”
He grinned that shark-like grin, just stared at you for a few seconds.
Before you knew what you were saying, the words slipped out,
That shark-like smile spread wider.
“Never figured why you guys think lyin’ to me’s a good idea. I know you know who Larry is and which Larry I mean. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t already know.”
His voice dropped from reasonable to annoyed, breath coming heavier.
“Oh… Larry! Sorry, man. Didn’t know at first who you meant. I ain’t seen or heard from Larry in months, man.”
You spit the words fast. The world seemed to slow as it hit you that all this was about Larry, a friend mixed up in all kinds of shit he had no business being in. Larry was always chasing get-rich-quick schemes, running with people you shouldn’t play games with. That phone call from him a couple weeks ago now made sense.
Next thing you knew, you were bent over, gasping for air. Your ribs were on fire. Something grabbed your collar, yanked you up straight, then slammed into your ribs again. You wanted to drop to your knees, but that hand held you upright by the collar.
The dark room wavered around you. You fought for air. A big hand cupped your jaw and neck, shoved you back against the crumbling wall. Your eyes locked on the massive hand held up in front of your face, two thick fingers raised. His grin turned predatory.
“That’s twice you lied to me. That’s 2 too many.”
He moved in, his face inches from yours. Bright eyes, chrome-bright irises that almost sparkled, locked on yours. You knew even in daylight this man’s eyes would be unnerving. Damn near supernatural.
“I don’t get why guys like you always pick the hard road. I gave you a simple choice. Tell me what I want, keep your mouth shut, go on your way.”
He tilted his head like a dog studying something strange.
“Most of you lie or try to run. At least you didn’t run.”
“They send me to talk to guys like you, hunt guys like Larry, ’cause I’m good at it. And I like it. Means if you give me a reason, I’ll take my time and enjoy myself.”
“Your boy Larry’s a low-life schemin’ bag of shit. He crossed the wrong people. They asked me to find him.I don’t know you, but folks I talked to say you’re a hard-working guy. I can respect that.But now you’re coverin’ for that scumbag Larry, got me thinkin’ maybe you’re a piece of shit like him.”
He shook you once, rough, like a bag of peanuts.
“See, you lyin’ twice makes it hard for me to believe a word you say. Means I might have to use other ways to make you believable. You won’t like those ways.Don’t let Larry’s screw-up get you busted worse than you already are.Those 2 gut shots? Love taps.”
His eyes stayed sharp, hard, hungry.
You nodded, and he eased his grip just enough for you to start talking. You told him about Larry calling a week and a half ago, asking for cash, and you gave him 500 bucks. You told him Larry said he’d screwed up and needed to get out of town. Said he was going back to your small town in Tennessee. Had a cousin in the mountains who’d put him up till things cooled down. You told him everything. The whole time, those eyes never left yours.
The man asked other questions about Larry. You answered straight. Each time, you saw him weighing if you were telling the truth. By the end, his massive hand squeezed your neck so tight you could barely breathe or speak. Then he just held you there, eyes fixed on you, deciding if you were telling the truth — and what your fate was gonna be.
Suddenly, he let you go, and you dropped to your knees in front of him. Gasping for air and holding your side, you don’t even realize you are leaning forward, resting your head against his massive, muscular thigh. Trying to catch your breath, you don’t realize it until you can feel a thick piece of flesh flex where the side of your face and cheek are lying.
You hear a dark chuckle and feel that piece of flesh flex and throb roughly, and you pull back and try to scramble back, but you are between him and the wall. “Sorry… I’m sorry, man.” You say as you look up and see him looking down at you. That smile has changed. The feeling in the air has changed.
“See how you got me all worked up. You get me angry because you lied to me. Then you made me get physical with you. Which always gets me more worked up.” He says, and one of his big hands with the big rings on it rubs across that thick lump outlined in his jeans. When you look back up at him, he says, “Somebody’s gotta take care of that.”
You shake your head roughly, and he says roughly, “Same as before, you can take care of this willingly and get back to your weekend, or I can bounce you off the walls and use you like a fucking fleshlight.” He says as he stands up straighter and seems to expand again, and the room seem to shrink around him. His hands curled into fist and the knuckles cracked so loud that the air seem to vibrate.
You close your eyes and then get up on your knees. He laughs darkly, “I thought so. Now get to it!”
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