Chapter 5: Bait Taken.
This insane, high-risk gambit was actually working. The sheer, outlandish specificity of the accusation, so far removed from a simple "you're underage" scolding, had short-circuited her teenage brain.
This was a nightmare she hadn't rehearsed for.
'I can't hold out, if she calls my bluff, I'd probably be facing a lawsuit right now on charges of assault on a minor and unlawful confinement.' I winced internally at the catastrophic thought.
The potential consequences were enough to make my own palms sweat inside my gloves, but I couldn't show a single flicker of doubt. The character had to be solid.
"You really think this is funny, don't you?" I snarled, my voice dropping to a gritty, dangerous whisper.
"Did you suddenly grow a pair overnight, thinking you could just walk away from us?" To sell the threat completely, I released one of her shoulders. My right arm drew back in a slow, theatrical wind-up, my hand curling into a tight, white-knuckled fist. I made sure she tracked every inch of the movement, her eyes glued to the impending blow.
"Don't worry," I said, my voice dropping into a sneer. My eyes squinted into malicious, crescent-shaped slits. "I'll gladly straighten you out first, before I drag what's left of you back to the boss. He prefers his answers delivered by people who are… properly motivated."
"STOP! STOP! YOU'RE WRONG! YOU'RE COMPLETELY WRONG!" The words exploded from her in a desperate, tear-choked wail that echoed off the silent coolers. "I DIDN'T STEAL ANYONE'S MONEY! I SWEAR!"
Just in the nick of time, as my fictional punch was reaching its imaginary, bone-breaking apex, I froze. My fist hung in the air, inches from her face, trembling with what I hoped looked like barely restrained rage. I held it there, letting her feel the displaced air, and see the grim intent carved into the lines of my knuckles.
"What are you going on about this time?" I grumbled, my tone one of impatient, skeptical fury, straining with every fiber to stay in character. I lowered my fist slowly, millimeter by millimeter, as if I were a predator reluctantly deciding to hear out its prey.
"It's a fake ID! I'm not who you're thinking! Mister, I don't even know who your boss is!" Her voice broke completely on the last word, devolving into heaving, uncontrollable sobs.
The dam had burst. Fat, glistening tears welled up over her lower eye lids and cascaded down her cheeks, tracing shiny paths through her light makeup. She brought her hands up, not to push me away, but to cover her streaming eyes, her shoulders shaking with the force of her crying.
"I just wanted to buy some alcohol because they dared me to… All I wanted… was for them to be my friends…"
The confession tumbled out between ragged breaths and hiccups, a torrent of miserable, adolescent truth laid utterly bare.
'Well, she broke faster than I expected…'
I thought to myself, the adrenaline that had been singing in my veins beginning to recede, leaving behind a hollow, weary ache of sympathy.
The intense performance was over. I didn't know whether to laugh at the absurd, overwhelming success of my terrible mafia-henchman routine or to just sit down right there on the dirty floor and pity this poor, painfully lonely kid.
The stark, almost ridiculous contrast between my cartoonish threat and her very real, very simple pain was dizzying.
I let go of her other shoulder, my grip softening from an imprisoning clamp to a brief, almost apologetic touch before I released her entirely. I took a full step back, creating a safe bubble of space between us, and let out a long, weary sigh that was only partially an act. "Alright, alright… I believe you. Ahh." I winced, running a hand through my hair in a gesture of frustrated realization. The shift from menacing predator to confused, possibly mistaken civilian had to be seamless. "You can put your hands down."
She lowered her hands slowly, peering at me through wet, red-rimmed eyes, sniffling violently. The fear was still there, but it was now mixed with a desperate, hopeful confusion.
Since the act was over, I asked her to explain. My voice was normal now, though I was definitely tired as I was calm, it wasn't easy being an actor at all. Especially one worrying about a potential lawsuit.
"Just… tell me what's really going on. Start from the beginning." I asked.
And she did, her words tumbling out in a rushed, relieved whisper.
Only then did I truly learn the reason behind her ill-conceived mission. It turned out she was a student who had transferred into her current or should I say, former high school, during the final term.
Being the perpetual "new kid," she found it impossibly hard to crack the established social circles. Worse than just being ignored, she had, completely by accident, offended one of the most popular girls in her grade—something about accidentally bumping into her and spilling a drink.
she glossed over the details, It didn't take me long to understand that she had been quietly but thoroughly ostracized by that entire set ever since. Today, one of the girls from that group had approached her by chance out on the street.
She'd said if Marian could get some alcohol for their "results celebration party" that night, maybe they could all start over and be friends.
"So you're telling me you aren't the one I'm looking for?" I asked, feigning lingering doubt, rubbing my temple as if trying to clear my head.
"No!" The girl retorted, her voice so frightened and high-pitched it threatened to shatter my eardrums. I had to grit my teeth to endure the auditory sting.
"Alright, alright, I believe you," I said, holding up a placating hand. "Ahh, what a mess." I let out another exasperated sigh, the picture of a man who had just wasted his energy on the wrong person. "But I'm confused though."
"About what?" she asked, swiping at her nose with her sleeve, her breaths starting to even out into shaky hiccups.