There were people all over the Boardwalk. The tourists watched with idle curiosity while the locals averted their eyes. Such a contrast there – the locals knew what was up. It was just inconvenient to pay attention to it.
It’s Somebody Else’s Problem.
He forced her into a side street, then rounded a corner so they were behind the row of stores. He shoved her against a wall, held her there.
She spoke, “Tell me what they’re paying you, I’ll double it. I won’t have the money right away, but-“
Nice try.
“Not negotiating,” the enforcer spoke.
A few long seconds passed. She pushed the welling nervousness down, did her best to offer him a smile with her face smushed against the brick. She asked him, “What’s next?”
“For now, we wait.”
For a vehicle, perhaps?
Waiting she could live with. Waiting wasn’t getting shot and left for some store employee to find as they took out the trash.
It took a minute before the boyfriend and girlfriend rounded the corner.
Ah, right, for them.
“Marcus, you know that’s no way to handle a lady,” the ‘girlfriend’ spoke. She had a posh English accent. When she spoke again, the accent remained, but the upper class lilt was gone, her voice serious, “Turn her around.”
I don’t like this.
Marcus, the ‘enforcer’, hauled on Lisa’s shoulder, flipping her around, before planting his palm on her collarbone and pushing her back against the wall.
The ‘boyfriend’ was holding a phone to his ear. He handed it to the English woman.
“You have a phone call. We advise you take it,” the woman smiled at Lisa.
Coil, that you?
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