Two's a Crowd Ch. 08

I also saw Erica. Her jacket had gone: the first two buttons of her silk blouse were undone. The seduction was in progress, I guess. She looked up and the smile left her face.

A hand pushed me, a voice growled. The man across from Erica turned in his chair. His smile lit up, just as Erica's faded. "Please be seated...It's Bruce, I recall?" the man said. He waved to a third chair beside the small round table. Once more the rough hand encouraged me to oblige.

Erica's eyes begged to know what had happened. I could only shrug.

Enthwistle the Elder dabbed at his lips with an immaculate napkin. He seemed to be enjoying this. He certainly didn't look hurried. "Bruce," he went on. "Or should I say Mr. Pierson? I guess not. My name is John Enthwistle, but I am sure you know that. Ehm...should I get you a glass of wine too? We are having an excellent Sancerre, aren't we, Ms. Gustavsson -- Erica, dear?"

I admired Erica. The worry had left her face as quickly as it had appeared. Her smile was as winning as ever. "It is delicious, John," she said. There was a sexy hoarseness to her voice that I had never heard her use. "I am glad Bruce could make it after all."

Enthwistle's laugh had the distinct resemblance of a billy goat's. Or a hyena? "Nice try, sweetheart," he chuckled. "But we all know better. Let's seduce the old fool, you thought, so we can get in touch with the damsel in distress and maybe abduct her."

His grinning face went from Erica back to me. "And Brucie here was ready to appear with the getaway car. How romantic!"

I had to admit that I disliked his voice more with every new word he uttered. But I could not deny that he had us by the balls. At least me. "Listen, Enthwistle," I said with what I hoped to be a firm voice. "The girl is ill. She has a personality disorder. She needs to see a doctor and get treatment."

"Bull shit!" Enthwistle said. "Myriam is fine. Just because she got tired of playing the nun for you doesn't mean she is sick. What is she to you anyway, man? You dumped her, remember? She is engaged to be married to my son in a month's time. She is family, Pierson, my family. She is my concern, so get the hell out of here. Now!"

I stared at the man. There was white foam in the corner of his mouth. "Myriam comes with me," I said.

Enthwistle gave off another whinnying laugh. There was no humor in it. Then his head got very close to mine. "You listen, Pierson," he growled. "You get the hell out of here now or I'll convince Onslow that he will be better off without you. You may be his precious crown prince, but my money owns his ass. And believe me, boy, Onslow loves his own ass quite a bit more than yours. Now leave!"

My eyes dashed from him to Erica. She just sat, wide eyed. I rose to my feet. I saw her grab her purse to follow me.

"Erica stays," Enthwistle said.

Some people consider authority their birthright. John Enthwistle's notion must have been handed down to him by generations of owners - owners of land, money and people. You could hear it all in his calm, soft voice. He didn't raise it -- he didn't even look at her.

"Erica stays." He made it sound matter of fact. He even made it sound quite reasonable. I saw that Erica had sat down again. Her eyes were on the table. Her meekness triggered a wave of indignation in me. I stepped towards the old man. "Like hell she stays!" I yelled. "She comes with me. We leave and we take Myriam with us." My hands were on his jacket.

If I thought this would impress him, I was very mistaken. The only thing I saw in his face, before he turned it away, was a calm annoyance of the disgusted kind. He snapped his fingers. The two men who had brought me there, entered the room. I considered resisting -- then I considered running. I was still considering when they had my arm already twisted behind my back.

Enthwistle rose and walked over to me. His face loomed very close. It was a calm face. Mine wasn't. But then again, his arm wasn't painfully twisted behind his back.

"Pierson, you are a stupid idiot," he said. I could not disagree.

"I told you to leave and you didn't. That was a mistake. Now I won't let you leave. You need a lesson. It is a lesson about men and mice in this world, you know? There are mice by the billions, but only very few men. Now let me break some news to you, Pierson -- you belong to the billions." He looked at the neanderthal holding me and nodded.

The lights went out.