The Living Statue

11.

I have been thinking about dangerous men and their dangerous business all day. At some point my imagination must've mingled with reality, because in my mind, the dark, uninviting men I was thinking about suddenly became knights in shining armours, which totally didn't make any sense. The menacing image of Mr Torres standing with his back turned to me simply wouldn't leave my head.

Why did I have this sudden feeling that there was something undoubtedly wrong with him? Well, not really with him, no. He was perfect. He was more than perfect. But something about the way he held himself, the way he treated people, implanting fear into their bones merely with his gaze, the way people treated him... It was undeniable - people feared him for a reason, but I just couldn't join all the pieces together. It was as if he was this annoying, unsolvable, Japanese puzzle I used to solve as a child. Let me tell you, I've never solved one and those seemed much easier to handle than the man I've been dealing with at the moment.

Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe I was making this all up to persuade myself to resign before the one-month-trial ends.

But why? Why on earth would I want to withdraw now? I surely wasn't intimidated by my employer, was I?

The hand waving dangerously close to my face snapped me out of my trance. Caroline's hand with its five fingers and twice as much silver rings.

Shit, I've zoned out. Again.

The thing is, I wasn't a very good company tonight. It was Thursday aka girl's night with a lot of wine and gossiping. We were at town's Pub, having a second bottle of Chardonnay.

Very strange,isn't it? Drinking wine in a pub where everyone should be drinking beer and eating greasy chips, right? Well, Joe's Sail was a rather fancy kind of pub. Not a stiff, boring kind of place, but not a drunkards' lair either. It was something in between - just as I like it.

We were sitting at one of the leather booths by the window. Lena's and Caroline's faces seemed weird and slightly contorted under the dimmed light of a lonely luminiare that hung above our heads. Or maybe it was the wine, making me see things in this weird, twisted way?

"Girl you really need to get laid," Caroline muttered, taking a sip of her wine, the rings on her fingers clincking against the glass. "Seriously, you daze off way too often. I wager you're thinking about hot steamy sex with that sexy boss of yours."

If the image before me was contorted or dizzy in any kind of way just seconds ago, it certainly wasn't vague now. Caroline's words had snapped me out of my dizziness so hard, it felt as if I had ran into a wall.

"Caroline," Lena hissed secretly, turning around to check if anyone was watching us.

"What?! I don't blame her. I mean, the way she described him...whoof, he sounds like a fine piece of ass!"

I scoffed, irritated. "Please, if we were the last people standing on this goddamn planet I wouldn't have spread my legs for him."

"Fine," Caroline rolled her eyes. "But you still need to get laid," she said, her eyes skimming across the crowded pub. Finally her gaze halted onto the poor prey. "How about the blonde guy at the bar?"

Lena and I both checked him out before turning back to face our hunter friend.

"He's cute," Lena stated shyly, her cheeks blushing.

I stole another glance at the tall, blonde man sipping his whiskey at the bar. He wasn't exactly the dream boy but he wasn't unattractive either. Another guy, the blond's friend, punched him in the arm playfully, laughing at some joke. Suddenly, their eyes fell on us and the three of us quickly looked away. Well, at least Lena and I did. Caroline, however, kept staring at them cheekily, playing with a strand of her lond, golden hair.