Long Live the King

One

She was curled up in the armchair, her heels tucked tight under her butt and the book hanging off her lap anchored by a three-finger grip. She made a pretty picture with her head tossed back, hair in disarray, and mouth hanging half open. A shrill whistle split through the air and Adrienne jolted, the book tumbling from her lap and hitting the floor on its face.

"Damn," she murmured, swooping down to pick it up. She made a half-hearted effort at smoothing the now crumpled pages then tossed it behind her into the chair.

She crossed into the kitchen where the kettle of water was still singing. Pulling a mug down from the shelf with her right hand, she picked up the kettle with the left and smoothly poured steaming water into the cup. She eased the kettle back onto a cold part of the stove and then began fishing around in the drawer for a box of tea. A lone tea bag remained in the bottom of the box. Adrienne made a mental note that she would need to buy more.

The bag plopped into the water, dashes of red color curling away toward the sides. Someone could be heard knocking at the front door, deliberate and heavy. Her forehead wrinkling, Adrienne abandoned the cup of tea and went to answer.

"Hello," she said as brightly as she could muster."Can I... help you?"

Her voice trailed off into dust as she was faced with an intimidating stranger. Adrienne had always considered herself tall, but this guy had her beat by at least half a foot and he was large, well-muscled. He smiled at her, but it looked more like a sneer and did little to make him seem less threatening. She eased the door shut a fraction of an inch, putting space between them.

"Yes." He pushed past the door, lumbering into the apartment. "I do think that you can."

"These walls are paper thin." Adrienne abandoned any pretense. Her eyes darted toward the door and back to the stranger's face. "I'd like you to leave my apartment."

"Smart girl," He chuckled. "but I'm not going to hurt you. Not today. It wouldn't do me any good. So you can shut the door."

"Oddly enough that doesn't make me want to shut the door."

"No? Then let me help you." His voice dropped an octave and there was a distinct rumble that hadn't been there before. He strode back over and pushed the door shut with a force, keeping his hand there to hold it. He lowered his face so that it was level with hers. "This is private business. We don't need any eavesdroppers."

"What do you want?"Adrienne asked, ducking under his arm and swiftly moving across the room. "Money?"

"Right in one." He nodded, his eyes following her.

"Too bad," she said, grabbing her cell of the counter. She looked up at him, thumb poised over the screen. She spoke again, this time emphasizing every syllable. "Get out or I call the police."

"Go ahead." He laughed like this was the best joke he'd hear all week. "And you'll tell them what? That I broke into your apartment and refused to leave?"

"More or less," she confirmed, frowning at his reaction. "It shouldn't take them long to get here. Even if you bail, I have an excellent memory. They'll be able to make a nice detailed sketch of your ugly mug."

"So they get here," he said, taking a couple strides and dropping into her armchair. "I apologize for all the trouble. I tell them that you and I had a bit of a... dramatic break up and I just... I didn't understand so I came over here to talk to you. Sure, I know I should have left when you asked but I wasn't thinking straight, you know? It won't happen again, officer. I'm leaving. I promise."

"But I--"

"But you'll tell them it isn't true," he continued the scenario, nodding along. "The thing is, like I said--I have no intent to hurt you. It would be messy and I don't believe in needless violence. They'll look around and see that no harm has come to you nor to any of your things. They won't believe my story, not completely, but they'll give me a look and tell me that they're letting me off with a warning this time but I better not bother you again. They're lazy like that, see? In the back of their mind they know something isn't right here but they won't do anything about it because they convince themselves that this is nothing. Think about it Adrienne--did the coppers do anything when you or your mother told them what a bad man your daddy was?"

Adrienne looked down at the phone screen, her thumb still hovering.

"I'm telling you babe, if you want to call up the police you can go ahead and do that but when I walk out of here with nothing more than a slap on my wrist... you'll have to sleep with your eyes open and keep looking behind you everywhere you go because the next time I come calling it won't be a cozy visit in your home. If you can't play nice then neither can I."

He finished his speech, having not taken his eyes off of her the entire time. Adrienne swallowed, still holding the phone while she let his words sink in. His eyes felt like they were burning her skin. She tightened her hold on the phone and brought it to her side.

"Fine," she relented. "You can talk but you will stay on that side of the room. If you make any move toward me I will scream and I will call the cops."

"Fair enough." He stretched his arms up in the air and put both hands behind his head. "So let's get down to business, shall we? Many years ago I made a mistake. I made an investment. You seem like a smart girl, so I bet you can guess who my money went to."

"My father."

"Your father, yes."

"So what? You lost your money? That's the risk you take with investments."

"Now you see, normally I would agree." He nodded. "But what happened to me is that your father took that money and he tripled it and then he took that money and he tripled that. I could have kept going until I lost it all but I'm smarter than that. So I went to your father and told him I was done gambling my money. That's when he got funny on me. Told me all sorts of bullshit stories and somehow came up with the idea that I owed him some sort of debt. Said if I wanted to see a dime that I better start working it off. So I'd work my ass off and he'd throw me a couple hundred, like some sort of joke."

"I don't believe you," she interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't believe you. My father wasn't in the business of making people money, he was in the business of making money for himself. But you expect me to believe that he took your money and invested it for you... what, out of the goodness of the heart he didn't have?"

"Well you make it sound like there was nothing in it for him."

"I'm just repeating what you've told me."

"He was entitled to a cut of the money. All of the gains, none of the risk of investing his own cash. Does that sound more like your dear old dad?"

"It does, but I still don't believe you. I don't know you but I'm finding it hard to swallow the idea that you would let him hold your money hostage instead of just reporting him."

"Sweetheart, the money was invested illegally," he explained. "Not to mention your father was perfectly willing to put a price on my head if I dared defy on him. As if that wasn't enough I was supporting a family off those insulting sums he was tossing me. My hands were tied. I just had to hope that the big payout he was promising me wasn't just another line of bull he was feeding me. Eventually your old man's luck took a turn and his finances went south. It was a good day for me because he finally set me free. And hell, I was pretty ruined but at least so was he. You know what though? I'm here to collect, and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if you believe why."

"So how much?"

"From you? Two million."

Adrienne choked. "I don't have that kind of money."

"No?" He stood up and took one step toward the door. "Well then, you'd better come up with it. Someone told me your brother was doing pretty well before he got himself knifed. Maybe check up on that avenue. I been screwed over and I have let it go long enough. Two million. I'll give you six months."