You Owe Me

(Mason)

Mark was nice enough of a guy, but he didn’t shut the hell up for more than two seconds at a time. He sucked down glasses of water like he had been walking in the desert for twenty fucking years. But I sat there, patiently, waiting for him to stop or eat or maybe just keel over and die.

When I got my opening, I took it.

“Mark, let me keep this simple for you,” I said. “You tell me what you want and I make it happen. The check clears, we shake hands, life moves forward. You don’t have to pitch me a thing and I won’t pitch you a thing. You’ve seen my work. I stand by it. I don’t kiss ass, suck dick, whatever. If that’s what you’re looking for tonight, then you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Mark was speechless for a few seconds. He then grabbed for his glass of whiskey. He lifted it up. “Then I guess we’re going to be in business.”

I grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear. I…”

From the corner of my eye I spotted something going down. There was some asshole yelling at a waitress. The same waitress that almost came crashing into me. I stopped her, stared into her beautiful blue eyes, and saw myself thrusting my cock into her mouth while she stared at me with those blue eyes.

“You, what?” Mark asked.

I shook my head.

Whatever was happening was not my business.

“I wanted to know what your schedule looked like. We can take two at a time if you want. Not sure what you like to ride and how long you can part with it. Usually what I like to do is get the ride in the shop and then start checking it out. Sight unseen kind of talk isn’t my…”

I heard the word fuck being thrown around like a snowball fight in winter.

I watched as the waitress reached for the man’s plate. That’s when he took a swing at her.

I stood right up.

“What’s happening?” Mark asked. He turned. “What…”

“That guy just hit that woman,” I said. “Hit her hand.”

“Oh, wow,” Mark said.

He sat there like a rubbernecking pussy, just like the rest of the people in the restaurant. Trust me, women were objects to me. They all came with a time frame and nothing more. But nobody deserved to be screamed at like this waitress. Or get her hand smacked like a kid reaching for a hot stove.

I grabbed my whiskey and threw the glass back in one big gulp. I touched my pocket, making sure I had my phone with me.

“Christ, he just threw food at her,” Mark said. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it,” I said.

I was on the move.

“What are you going to do?” Mark asked.

I barreled through the restaurant as though I knew this woman. As though I had to save her ass. Speaking of which, she had a really nice ass. A full ass that filled out her black pants perfectly. Not that I was looking or anything.

The asshole threw chicken at the waitress. I got there just in time as he stood up from his chair. I knew the look on his face. I’d seen the look many times in my life. The look of a man ready to strike. If I wasn’t there, this guy would have clocked the waitress.

I didn’t give him a chance.

I threw my left fist with a precision strike to his jaw. He was damn lucky too. If I had used my right fist and got all my power behind me, I would have broken his jaw and knocked him out. Instead, he flew back and went up and over the table.

The entire restaurant let out a collective gasp.

“I’m calling the police!” the man he was with announced.

I looked at the waitress. “You okay?”

She shook her head. Tears were in her eyes.

I turned and knocked the chair out of the way. The man I hit was on the floor, grabbing at his jaw. His face was in complete shock. I grabbed him by his tie and forced him to sit up.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” I growled.

“She gave me raw chicken!” he said.

I wondered if he knew how stupid he sounded right then.

I brought my right hand back. I locked my fist tight. “Raw chicken? And that was her fault? It’s a fucking restaurant, asshole. Shit happens.”

I felt something warm and soft touch my fist. I looked back and saw the waitress grabbing at me.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please…”

Another person entered the scene. He was a tall man, bald with a huge forehead. His eyes were like balloons as he surveyed the scene.

“What happened?” he cried out.

“This man hit me!” the man on the floor said.

Two more people showed up to help the man up.

“Mr. Johnson, I am so sorry,” Mr. Baldy said.

“I was served raw chicken!” Mr. Johnson said. “And the waitress was rude! And then this creature hit me!”

“This creature is going to fucking kill you,” I said.

I fake jumped and Mr. Johnson yelped like a girl.

“Stop this!” Mr. Baldy said. “Violet, what happened?”

Now I had her name. Violet.

God. Damn.

“The chicken was uncooked,” she said. “I said I would take it back…”

“Then he fucking punched her hand away,” I said. “Piece of shit.”

“Cops are here,” someone else said.

That’s when I stopped and looked around.

A fancy ass restaurant. Everyone dressed up. Everyone in shock. And then there was me. Dirty looking guy in a t-shirt and jeans. Whiskey on his breath. Hate in his eyes.

“Fuck,” I said when the cops grabbed me and demanded I put my hands behind my back.

“I’m so sorry,” Violet the waitress said. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll…”

“Violet, get your stuff and go home,” Mr. Baldy said. “And officers, get this man out of my restaurant.”

“I’ll see you in court!” Mr. Johnson yelled as the cops pushed at me.

I saw the chicken on the floor. I swung my left foot and kicked the chicken at Violet. “Don’t forget your food, babe.”

She gasped.

I grinned. “You owe me one. Violet.”

As the police walked me by my table, I put on the brakes. I looked at Mark. “We still good?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mark said. “I mean…”

“I look forward to doing business with you. I’d shake your hand, but…”

“Move it, dickweed,” the officer said, pushing at me.

Dickweed? What the fuck was a dickweed?

It wasn’t the first time I was escorted from a restaurant in handcuffs. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

But at least I knew what to do next.

* * *

The guy in the shit smelling cell with me believed that aliens were coming to earth. He was dead drunk, unable to stand, his legs wide and wobbly, holding onto the cell bars, his head swaying left to right as he explained that the police officers were vessels for the aliens and they were simply capturing us to find out who was weakest - to kill - and the strongest - to probe and steal ideas.

I sat with my hands folded, chin resting on my hands, staring out.

I had no fucking clue why I went after that guy like I did.

No, I did.

It wasn’t the waitress. Definitely not Violet.

It was what she had been doing. Working her ass off at a restaurant, probably not making as much as she should have. Taking shit from assholes in suits and ties. She probably went home after a long shift and sat on the couch with a glass of wine and cried.

I’d seen it before.

“… on, and then, the best part… the best… the part… the best of it all… they bend you over…”

I finally stood up.

I had enough.

I turned and faced the alien conspiracist and took two steps at him. I had a good six inches on him and was twice as wide.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. “You’re…”

I nodded. “I’m one of them, man. I’m here to find out if you’re weak or strong.”

The guy started to piss himself.

I regretted messing with him.

Now I’d have to sit there and smell that.

“Look at this,” a voice said.

A familiar voice.

Glancing over my shoulder I saw Hunter standing with an officer.

“He yours?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, he’s mine,” Hunter said. “You’re in big trouble, Mason.” Hunter wagged his finger at me, smiling.

The officer opened the cell door and waved to me.

As I walked toward the door, Hunter took out his phone and snapped a few pictures.

“Delete those or I’ll break your phone,” I said.

“They’re in the cloud now, brother,” Hunter said.

“Fuck the cloud. Fuck you.”

“Easy now,” the police officer said. “Take your lover’s quarrel outside. Unless you both want to spend some time together in here.”

I glanced back at the alien guy. He was still staring at me, really letting what I said sink in.

I looked at the officer. “Is that guy going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” the officer said. “When he stops taking drugs. Finds a job. Cleans himself up. Stops thinking that aliens are coming - and that they’re here.”

“So, easy shit,” I said.

The officer grinned. “Go.”

Hunter threw an arm around me and we left the police station. I shook him away, but he grabbed my shirt.

“Not that easy,” he said. “I’m half drunk, probably not the smartest thing to do when driving, not to mention going right to a police station. Want to tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I beat up a guy.”

“The guy we’re supposed to do business with?”

“No.”

“Well there’s some good news.”

I stared at Hunter. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

“But you better call a lawyer. Whether you like it or not, Mason, you have a lot to lose.”

“I need a drink,” I said.

Hunter curled his lip. “Get in the fucking car.”

“I also need my motorcycle,” I said with a grin.

“A friend in need,” Hunter said, shaking his head.

We got into the car and I replayed the night again. I needed to chase it all away. The booze would do that. The hangover would remind me of the booze. And life would move forward.

And to think… I did it all for the memory of a woman that was never coming back.