Stolen Chances

Chapter Eighteen

The loud clicking of dress shoes kept repeating in the back of his head. Someone was pacing in front of him as he stared down at the concrete flooring in a foggy haze. Guess drugs will do that to you.

The man turns one more, and the clicking continues, one foot in front of the other as he paces the same line in front of Tommy. His eyelids felt too heavy to keep open, but how could he be expected to sleep with such a loud noise?

A softer clicking approached him, slowly growing louder until a heavy door screeches open suddenly. Both of the clicking shoes stopped. "He awake?" A much too loud voice asked impatiently.

"Um-" Someone else answers much closer to him.

The other voice scoffed, shoes scraping the concrete floor loudly as they approached the chair on which he seemed to be spiraling.

A loud crack echoed the room as his head snapped to the side. His face throbbing as he registers he has just been slapped. He blinks slowly before his eyes trail up the black dress shoes. A well-dressed man with hideous facial hair glowers down at him before his face splits into a toothy grin, "Morning sunshine."

Tommy distantly recognized the man from the office building, angrily cursing on the phone before fleeing the building. Guess he survived the explosion.

Rough hands grab his face by the chin, pinching his cheeks forcing him to look up at the man. "So, you're Wilbur's new pet, huh?" Schlatt drops his chin before stepping away, circling him and his chair.

Tommy reaches to rub his face but finds his hands getting yanked back. Then, glancing down, he sees the shiny metal of handcuffs keeping him in place.

"Your little friends cause me a great load of trouble, you know." Schlatt continued from behind him. Tommy tried to glance over his shoulder but just saw Schlatt standing in front of a table, his suit jacket gone. "Blew up my building, killed my men." He paused, looking over his shoulder, glaring at Tommy, "Ludwig was one of my best sellers."

Tommy glanced down at the cuffs again, circulation beginning to leave his arms. "Not the first time Wilbur's tried this whole mentoring thing." Schlatt was in front of him again, unbuttoning the sleeves of his white dress shirt to push them out of the way, "You hear about Fundy yet?"

Tommy blinked at Schlatt, who just stared at him, waiting for an answer. Then, finally, he wet his dried crack lips as best he could with his dried out mouth before speaking, "He was Wilbur's kid."

Schlatt bobbed his head, considering Tommy's words, "Sure, in a way he was," Schlatt walked behind Tommy again, continuing his speech, "See Fundy was working a job, except not for the crafts. He was actually working for me. Found the little scamp a while ago and kept him away from the action. Figured he could serve me some good when the opportunity presented itself." Tommy heard the drag of metal as another chair was placed in front of him, Schlatt sitting down in it the wrong way with the back of the chair facing his chest.

"See, Fundy was my little spy. While he was playing house with Wilbur, he was giving me all the insider information on the crafts." Schlatt spoke with a mischievous grin as if telling some fun secret. In a way, he was. Wilbur didn't know about Fundy betraying him. "Plan was when Philza caught on, it would be too late, Wilbur would be too attached to the kid, and they would let him go." Schlatt was staring intently at Tommy now as a pit formed in his stomach. "Except that's not what happened. Turns out Wilbur's a little more unhinged than I had thought. When Wilbur caught Fundy stealing files from his office, he shot him dead."

Tommy didn't know what hurt more, the truth or the lack of surprise. 

"So you got a kid killed," Tommy sneered.