The elevator ride was only two or three stories long – I lost count after the first muted ding. It was only when the doors opened and he let go of me to get out, that realization hit me like a brick. "Andrei... you're not gonna keep your word, are you?"
He looked at me, a devilish grin in his eyes. "Nope."
I sighed a tad too loud, I guess. What had I been expecting? A million for a night? Seriously? ... Not even Key was that generous – and that was saying something. And she was a woman of her word. Andrei was the exact opposite. They say the devil's a liar, after all. Shit.
He lifted my head so my eyes would meet his, now radiating cold. "Do you mind it, Sasha?" He stopped me from stating the obvious. "Lie if you have to."
SHIT. I hated this game with my whole being. Even knowing it was a lie – it takes something to say certain things, doesn't it? ... "No. No, I don't mind."
- - -
Service stairwell, 11pm.
The man was in complete disarray. His shirt torn apart, letting in sight a crudely carved wound – a foot tall X, still bleeding lightly. That was not the worst of the sight. He had puked all over himself, so, when a waiter came by him, his first reaction was to cover his nose, and his second, to call security. Our man tried to hide, but soon realized it was pointless – as soon as the waiter greeted him.
"Hey, it's you, man! I almost mistook you for a hobo, looking like that! Whatever happened to you, man?"
Our man had started to cry again. "No-nothing, I swear. Listen, I– I gotta go."
"Sweet Christ, man, that's not nothing. Do you want me to call the police, or something? ... Seriously, what happened? I'm sure I can help you out of whatever it is!"
"... No, no, seriously... I... I'd rather not... not risk..." His voice trailed off.
He was trembling from head to toe, the waiter noticed. Then his eyes managed to lock into the man's chest wound. The waiter stopped in his tracks – sure, that had to do with the mob. And yeah, his partner was right – sometimes calling the cops is the worst idea you can have. Or so he'd heard. "Alright. You know where to find me if you change your mind."
Each of the men continued on his previous tracks – our man hoping for the other to realize that, indeed, calling the cops would probably get him killed. Or worse. He'd used to think death was the worst that could happen – that night he'd realized how wrong he'd been about that.
And yet, the nightmare had barely started.
