008 POV Susan gets away from Mads 883

I try my best to remain calm. It's hard, given that I can feel the cold muzzle of the gun Mads presses into my stomach through my sweater. The beast leans close to me and spit-whispers, 'Now, I don't suppose you've got that five hundred you owe me on you right now, do you?'

I cut him a dirty look that reads: Of course I don't.

'Well, then in that case, it seems we have a situation. Unlike last time, I'm not about to let you go without settling your debt.'

'I haven't got five hundred dollars on me, and I haven't got five hundred in the bank.'

Mads just smiles at this. 'That's okay, if you can't pay in cash, you can always pay in kind.'

He lowers the gun from my stomach to my groin and presses there. I feel a sickness spin in my stomach, I am literally ready to vomit, but I somehow manage to hold it down.

My one year AA ring glistens on my finger. I regard it for a moment, thinking just how important it is to me. Every time I see it I am reminded of the importance of not veering from my new path. 

'What say you and me take a sojourn to the washroom here and get properly aquatinted, huh?'

I can't bring myself to look at his misshapen head. To do so would surely release the vomitous flood gates. Instead I slowly remove my AA ring and slide it across the table to him. 

He looks at it dumbly for a moment before saying, 'What I want with that? Ain't worth but five bucks.'

'It's my one year AA ring. The material cost of producing it may be less than five dollars, sure, but what it means to me, is priceless. Take it as an IOU on the five hundred.'

'Now I know you think I'm stupid. Ain't no way I'm gonna take that hunk of nothing against a fist full-o-Benjamins.'

I want to scream for help, I want to yell in his face, to tell him to get away from me, that he already tried to kill me once. But I know that antagonising a beast like Mads as he holds a gun presses to my privates is not the best way to deal with this situation. 

My mind races, trying to figure how I'm going to talk my way out of this, when a quote from a business course lecture I was studying recently inexplicably springs to mind in its entirety. I speak directly, quoting from a memory I didn't even know I had, 'The best way to ensure trust in a business deal is to create a mutually beneficial scenario.' Mads face skews into a look that reads: What the hell are you talking about? I apply the theoretical to the quandary of my current circumstance, 'I can trust you to look after that ring because five-hundred dollars is worth more to you than the ring. And you can trust I’ll pay you as that ring is worth a lot more than five hundred dollars to me.'

Mads looks at the ring in a new light. 'It really means that much to you?' 

'Far more than five hundred.' I wince as soon as I say that, realising I just opened myself to extortion, and sure enough, Mads exploits the opportunity. 

'In that case, you've got one of two options. Either we wipe your debt here and now in the restroom. Or, if I take this ring, you owe me a grand in a week. And if you fail to pay, well, you've got a fair idea of what happens then.' He punctuates that with a wink, alluding to the hot-shot that almost killed me.

'Take the ring. The other option is never gonna happen.' I return adamantly.

Mads snatches up the ring, 'Suit yourself. One grand, seven days. You know where to find me.' He turns his attention to Michelle whom has remained silent this entire time. 'And you, don't call me ever again. Understand?'

Michelle manages a meagre nod without looking at him. 

With that, Mads 'holsters' his gun in his coat pocket, and pushes his gargantuan frame out of the booth, locks eyes with me and says, 'Seven days.' Then walks out the way he came in. 

I wait until I hear the jingle of the door close behind him before I breathe out. Michelle finally glances up at me with a look in her eyes that says, I am so, so, sorry.

Before either of us can say anything my cell rings. It's Patrick calling. I don't answer. I don't need another person abusing me. I'll try to explain when I get to work, if I've still got a job that is.

I gesture to the incoming call. 'Work. My boss is pissed. You gonna be okay?'

Michelle nods meekly again.

'You sure?'

'Yeah.'

I get out of the booth and gather myself before moving towards the exit. After a few steps Michelle calls after me.

'Susan?'

I turn back to her as I keep walking away. Michelle silently mouths the word, Thanks.

I return a faint smile, then pick up my pace to the exit, and maybe, hopefully, my job.

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