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I held up my hand. “Lux. Let me deal with this.”
“Mr. Maverick, we’re going to have to insist,” added the suit.
Swiveling my head and torso in his direction, I met his eye and waved at him dismissively. “Well, I’m afraid you don’t have the authority, so run along.”
He didn’t even flinch. “Sir, the owner of this establishment does have the authority to ask you to leave.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Ohhhh.” I chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
I stood up. He was pissing me off, and I couldn’t keep my tone down any longer. “You want me to leave because I’m winning?”
He took a step back, presumably to let me leave the table, but it made him appear intimidated. “No sir, we’d like you to come with us. If you decline our invitation, then we’d like you to leave.”
I glared at him and swung my arm, gesturing to the crowd, which had gone quiet. “Everybody already knows you want to bring me to the back room and knock me around so I won’t come back and keep cutting into your profits. Why not just say so?”
The suit shook his head. “You’re wrong, sir.”
“Oh I hope not.” Chuckling, I stepped forward, squaring my shoulders with him.
He didn’t flinch. “Sorry to disappoint, sir.”
“Alright then. Let’s go see.” Rubbing my hands together, I turned to Lux. “Wait for me out front.”
He stared at me right in the eye and linked,You’re such an asshole, Maverick. Don’t kill them.
I laughed even as Lux glared at me, and wiggled my fingers in a wave goodbye to him. Then, I turned back to the bouncer and flashed him a big smile. “Let’s go then, G.” I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but I always loved the energy when I heard the kids say it, so I just went with it. I liked to mix it up.
Adapt or die, as they say.
The bouncer led me to a little room in the back with a small circular table and two chairs. The walls were white, the floor was white, the table was white. The chairs were chrome, and one wall was obviously a two-way mirror. I waved at it excitedly. “Hey guys!”
“Have a seat,” the security guy instructed.
I pulled out a chair and spun it around. As I straddled it, facing the backrest, he kept his eyes fixed on me, wary. I draped my arms over the chair’s back, affecting an air of indifference to his presence. Then I lifted my gaze to meet his, my expression one of feigned innocent curiosity. By the door, the bouncer leaned against the wall, arms crossed in a show of nonchalance. But the rapid pulse visible at his throat gave away his tension. Dude was pissing himself. I cocked my head, wondering why. “You okay, man?”
He cleared his throat. “We don’t like cheaters, Mr. Maverick.”
All the mister bullshit was getting on my nerves. “I bet. Hey, what’s your name?”
“Peter.”
“Mr. Peter, did you bring me back here to have a chit chat about morals and shit? Because I have some thoughts. Have you read Sartre?”
He stared at me for a beat or two. “No.”
I smiled and sat taller. “You’re gonna beat me up, aren’t you?” I winked, pointing at him. “I knew it. I told you I knew what you were up to.”
“No, Maverick.” As he pushed off the wall and crossed the room, I grinned about how my little ‘Mr. Peter’ lesson had worked like a charm. “We’re not here to beat you up.”
He was lying, but I dramatically let my face fall flat. “Well, what then?” I was looking forward to getting pulled into a room like this and throwing some punches. This dude was really cramping my style by dragging it out so long.
“You return the money you stole, and you’re free to go.” He stopped in another corner and leaned against the wall there, trying to seem relaxed. I knew better. There was no fooling Hellborne when we could hear heartbeats and taste emotions,
“I won my hands fair and square,” I explained with a half-shrug. They would disagree if they knew what I could do.
“We know what you did.”
