Placing the phone aside, Micheal Buble’s song, Feeling Good blared through the speakers, filling the otherwise quiet space of the restroom. Flicking my eyes close, I swayed my fingers slightly to the beat of the song, and when I heard James trying to speak again, I held up my hand to stop him, still waiting for a particular part to come.
Breeze driftin’ on by, you know how I feel.
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life. For me.
And I’m feeling good.
I flicked my eyes open, my smile dropping as I narrowed my eyes at him, turning around to give him my whole attention. My eyes fell to the cigar on the floor, then to meet his gaze. “Pick it up and put it back where it was.” My voice was low, but I’m sure as hell he could tell from my tone that I wasn’t kidding.
“You crazy piece of shit.” And it finally seems to dawn on him what’s going on. His eyes flared with anger, as he let go of his jaw and the tried to swing a punch at me.
I stepped away just in time, making him crash into the wall behind me. I didn’t even have to touch him, and he was making a mess of himself. “Pick it up,” I repeated, my annoyance slowly growing with his defiance.
My words only angered him further though, as expected. His own hands curled into a fist, and this time more determined, he charged at me. The minute he was close enough, I ducked, took a hand of his arm, and twisted it while kicking the back of his leg, making him kneel forcefully with his hand behind him. He tried to wiggle out of it, but the more he fought, the higher I held his hand behind his back, and believe me when I say, it’s seconds away from getting fractured. If he keeps up, I won’t mind breaking the bone as a whole.
“LET GO OF ME!” He screamed, but his screams were tuned out by the song I played.
“Pick it up.” I repeated for the last time, his face right where the cigar is, “I’m not repeating myself again.” I held up his hand higher in response to my words, silently telling him what would follow after if he doesn’t do as I asked.
He relented then, the pain shooting through his arm no doubt registering some sense into his mind, something he seems to lack. “Alright, alright! I will.” He used his free hand, and while making a disgusted face, picked up the cigar and placed it right in his mouth.
I let go of his arm, then came to stand in front of him. “Clench your teeth,” I repeated my earlier words, flexing my fingers. “Hard.”
With his whole body shaking, he heeded to my words, clenching his teeth hard and closing his eyes in preparation for the impact about to come. I didn’t waste a second more before landing another punch on his face, followed by another, and a few more others until his face was all bloodied up. Except, even then, my anger isn’t subdued in the slightest.
After beating him up for minutes, till his face was about swollen and he sports a red eye, I hesitantly pulled myself back, reminding myself to not do anything beyond that for it might become a headache for me. While he laid on the floor, breathing heavily, his lips still slanted into a scowl, his eyes staring at me with well-deserved hatred.
“You assaulted a person! I’ll sue you for this, your name will be ruined.” He asked with much difficulty. Even in that state, his mouth is still open it seems, yapping nonsense as always. “Do you think you’ll get out of this freely?”
I crouched in front of him, I leveled my gaze with his and then nodded, my lips pressed together. “Yes, of course I’ll get out of this scot free.” And I’m not even kidding. “Do you know why?” My voice dropped. “Because I’m Christian Kingston. Try going against me if you can and you’ll know just who I am.”
I saw fear flashed in his eyes, as if to say even he knew my words couldn’t be any truer. If anyone thinks he or she can go against me, then they must be hallucinating, especially not someone of his caliber. So, I guess, he resigned, or so he feigned. “Why?” He asked, his voice low. “What did I do to you to deserve this?”
I hummed, “Let me think.” I pretended to do just that, my finger going to scratch the skin above my brow. “Aside from calling me a son of a bitch, and saying lies about me out there like being a playboy and stuff?” His eyes dilated, as if wondering how I knew the things he said at the reception to Isabella before he came here after being ignored. I shrugged, kissing my teeth. “I honestly couldn’t care less. You haven’t done anything to earn minus calling my mother a bitch.” I lifted my finger, “That’s your slip off.”
Of course I know it’s a phrase, but my mother means and matter so much to me that I can take any insult directed towards me, but none at her. Even if it’s something like an overused phrase.
“Then again,” I slipped my hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He tried to snatch it using the small strength he has, but he stands nothing against me. If anything, I used his futile attempts, using the fingerprint to unlock the before I went straight to his gallery.
What I was looking for popped up immediately, welcoming me. As my finger tapped the video, my mood dampened immediately, my earlier anger returning as I slanted my icy glare back to him, turning around the phone so he can see it as well.
“-You waged war on her,” My voice dropped, “And by doing that, you’ve waged war on me as well. This, I cannot overlook.”
***
Christian Kingston.
“Let me tell you a story.” I rose to my feet and leaned against the nearby counter, his phone still in my mind. “You might want to sit for this one.” I nudged him with my leg, “And no, that wasn’t a question. Sit up.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.