Dangerous black ties

Cut the bullshit

I make him a cup of coffee along with Dexter. Walking to Dexter's desk and setting it down.

"Thank you, Meredith," Dexter says while typing to the customer.

I simply nod.

As I walk away to Mr. Greysons office, I knock softly on the door.

"Come in," I hear Mr. Greyson say.

I open the door with a file in hand.

He glances at the file and sighs.

"Hand it over." He says he is pulling his gaze from the computer. I put the file in his hands and rocked softly on my feet.

Sighing

He glances at it and sets it to the side, nodding once.

Getting a sticky note and writing something down

"Thank you; bring any more you find, please," he says in a fixed tone.

"Yes, sir," I say before walking away, opening and shouting at the door silently behind me.

I walk back to the file room.

This went on the whole day. I'd find a file here and there where the money would increase slowly.

Every time I'd walk in, he would force a tight smile.

Lunch I read on my phone. Silently, the men seemed in heavy thought, seemingly on a mission. I even offered to run and get them food, but no.

I was a little thankful, as now I didn't have to worry about any questions. All the walking back and forth hurts my back and sides and makes my stomach ache. Everything, even my face, is also hurting and aching.

Once the day was over, I walked home. Listening to my music takes my sweet time getting home. I hated going home. The man who waited for me was violent and unpredictable.

Most of the time, it is just violent.

I sighed, unlocking the front door and locking it behind me. My dad sits on the couch. Smoking a cigarette.

"Where is my whiskey? Did you move it, you bitch?!" My dad screamed, booming.

"What? No. I didn't move anything. I'll help you look for it." I say, setting my bag down.

"I don't need you to help look for it; you are the one who moved it in the first place!" He slams his beer bottle on the table. Making me stumble back.

"I didn't move it, I swear." I am pleading with him.

He makes quick strides toward me, grabbing me by my arm and pulling me close to his body. He punches my side roughly. A hiss leaves my lips as my body falls over from the sudden sensation.

He kicks my calf, making me fall as he kicks my back a couple of times. Screams leave my mouth, and sobs fill the air. He puts his burning cigarette out on my upper arm. Let out a painful cry.

He finally stomps my arm hard.

Pain is radiating from my whole body.

"Don't touch my shit again!" He yells before storming off and slamming his door closed behind him.

I lay there on the ground crying, wielding myself to get up. My body is not responding. My face was wet from crying.

Slowly and agonizingly, I get up. I headed to my room, attempting to grasp my arm to soothe the pain. Pulling my hand away whenever my hand makes contact causes pain radiating from the contact.

I strip out of my clothes, and even more bruises lie on my body. I bathe and wash my face off. My bruised cheek is showing. I get dressed in my pajamas. I whimper whenever my arm goes through the holes in my shirt.

I sit on my bed for a minute. Before taking some medicine to help alleviate my pain.

I set myself an alarm to get up in the morning. I didn't feel like eating; my body was just hurting too much.

I woke up in the morning, sliding my clothes on painfully. Covering my bruised cheek with make-up, I get all my things together in my bag. I slide my work shoes into my bag and put my tennis shoes on. I walk to the bathroom and get a wrap covering the bruises. I put on a jacket. Leaving the house quietly.

I walk to work. I stopped in the main lobby to change my shoes.

I hit the elevator button and headed up to Mr. Grayson's office.

Softly rubbing my arm. Still intensely aching.

I walk in and notice everyone is already here. I've got the other men who I saw just the other day. They were all sitting around talking.

I look at the time. I am on time. Whatever.

I walk to the break room, taking a few pills. I hear a noise behind me, so I turn around.

"Come join us when you are ready," Dexter says he looks at me quickly before eyeing me suspiciously as I drop the pills in my mouth.

I simply nodded with the water in my mouth, swallowing the pills. I follow behind him slowly and carefully. My ribs are throbbing profusely with each step.

I sit down in my usual spot.

Listen to them talk. I softly hold my arm. Not focusing on anything they are saying.

My thoughts were broken when I heard a throat clearing.

"Meredith. Did you hear me?" Mr. Greyson asked me, arching his eyebrow.

I notice all eyes are on me.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask him, trying to focus on him.

"Are you okay?" He asks curiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I'm listening. Go on." I say it with a forced smile.

The meeting continues.

After a while, my thoughts are broken again, and I rub my arm as it aches and throbs.

"Meredith! Hello!" Dexter whispers as everyone is leaving.

"What?" I am confused.

"I'm assuming you want a ride to the restaurant, right?" He asks me, arching his eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah," I say, getting up out of the chair. I clench my jaw in pain.

He looks at me for a moment.

"Are you sure you are fine?" He asks me, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say with a small smile, hoping he will believe me.

He looks at me cautiously. He doesn't respond; he only makes gestures with his head for me to follow. I do follow him to the elevator.

We walk to the parking lot. Sitting down in the car, I buckled myself in.

I avoid his gaze. It's like he can read my thoughts; a few of his men could easily read me like an open book.

We arrive at the restaurant. Walking into Dexter opens the door for me.

"Thank you." I smiled softly at him.

He just nodded at me once.

I see everyone sitting down at the table. We walk to the table where everyone is sitting in the two available seats. Dexter quickly sat down, leaving the last for me. I sat down.

Rubbing my ribs in the noisy restaurant blurs my hearing.

I must not have heard my name being called as my arm was poked.

A hiss leaves my lips as I yank my arm away from the source.

A puzzled look leaves Jermey's face.

"Are you okay? I barely touched you. I was just trying to get your attention, he says.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine; what is it?" I said, looking at him with a small smile.

A couple of them have confused looks at the scene before them.

I thank the stars when the waitress comes up. What can I get for you to drink today?

Everyone gives their orders.

"Water, please," I say when she asks.

"I was going to see if you were working this weekend at the bakery. I could get your attention; that's why I poked you." Jerry asks me

"Sorry, yes, I am. I'm just not feeling well. I'll be fine," I say with a small smile.

Just then, a hand flies up, and I flench in reaction.

Mr. Greyson's jaw was clenched.

"I wasn't going to hit. You." He says he is placing his hand on my forehead.

"You don't feel warm," he says, taking his hand off my head.

"I said I was fine; don't worry about it," I say to him

Minutes later, our drinks are dropped off.

I open my bag and get some more medicine, swallowing it down. When the bottle is ripped from my hands by Dexter.

He opens it, examining the medicine, before closing it back up.

"Cut the sh*t, Meredith. How many of these have you had these last couple of days?!" He shouts, and I feel all eyes on me now.

"It's just Tylenol; calm down," I say, reaching for the bottle out of reach. My hiss leaves my lips as my ribs ache.

"Does your side hurt or something?" Jermery asks me.

"I am fine," I say, leaning back and letting Dexter hold the pill bottle. I can see anger on some of their faces.

"You are a terrible liar. Ms. Lannister," Mr. Greyson says.

"I've told you before, I'm just clumsy. Stop pointing it out." I say defensively.

Dexter moves his face close to mine.

"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks me, staring intently at my cheek.

"I'm a girl; that's not surprising, is it?" I say, rolling my eyes.

He scoffed.

"The problem isn't that you are wearing make-up. No, it's the fact; it's why you are wearing it; that's the problem." He states.

"I'm not sure what you mean, I say." Eyeing him carefully.

Still feeling gazes on me.

I turn away from him and stare at the table. I'm startled by my face being touched by a cold, wet napkin on my cheek.

"Jesus Christ, I thought I might have been imagining it. What happened to your cheek?" He asked if I felt all their intense eyes on me.

"Nothing; I'm leaving," I say, getting up before Dexter pulls me back down on the opposite arm.

"You are going to listen, and you are going to listen well. Cut the shit now, what happened?" Dexter asked me with a stern face.

"It's nothing," I say, pleading, trying to get my arm from his grasp.

"Meredith. I cannot stand a liar. I will fire you; explain what happened." Mr. Greyson says to me, demanding.

Feeling all their eyes on me was unnerving.

"I'm handling it; it's okay; just everyone calm down," I try and reason.

"I'd say fucking not very well," Alex says to me that his jaw clenched in anger.

"Can we not do this here? I feel like everyone in the whole restaurant is staring at us." I say pleading.

"Fine, but this isn't over." Mr. Greyson says, To which many gave a very nod in response as if agreeing with him.

The waiter can take our orders.

My nerves were fried. I was in no mood to eat. It was my turn to order.

"I'm alright, thank you," I say she starts to walk off.

"Miss," Dexter calls out, beckoning her with his finger. She bends down, and he whispers something in her ear. She looks briefly at me before nodding and walking away.

The food is being served. A plate was set in front of me.

"Miss. This isn't mine." I say not touching it.

"That gentleman told me to get it for you." She points to Dexter. Before walking away.

"Dexter, if I was hungry, I would have ordered something myself," I say in a fixed, irritation-laced voice.

"Well, here's how I see it, Meredith; we all want to hear why it looks like you have been hurt. You said you don't want to do this here. So it's either you eat that food in front of you or you spill the beans now." He says as he is eating.

A couple nodded in agreement.

I clench my jaw.

"You are too much; it's not that serious," I say to him, angrily grabbing my fork.

He sends me a warning glare.

I eat the food to avoid the unpleasant conversation.

Once everyone was done eating, we all left. Gathering in the cars, we came in.

Dexter is looking at me in the rearview mirror.

Not saying another word.

We get back, and I'm hoping—not praying—everyone forgets about the events at the restaurant.


We walk back into the office, and everyone is sitting around as if waiting for something. Unease creeps up on me.