shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My fucking face, man!”
The lawyer stood. “You’re not my client. He would like to have a word with you.”
Ernie rushed forward and took another swipe, Hopper’s ass getting the full force this time. Hopper scooted and curled into a fetal position, afraid to roll over, trying to find a chance to get up. Eyes sharp for a weapon—a bottle, another board.
“I’d advise you to stay still and listen. Any attempt you make to injure my client will be recorded.” Michel held up the digital camera. He pressed a button and it beeped.
Ernie said, “Once I break your nose, maybe you’ll listen to my offer again. I’m not asking much. Simply for you to back off a case no one wants you on.”
“Yasmin’s sister wants me on it. Must be important if it’s got you going.” Hopper was pretty sure there was a splinter in his ear.
“My client offers no response to that. Mr. Garland, it’s in your best interest to let the authorities take care of this matter.”
“If you were on TV, you’d say ‘Screw the police.’”
“We’re not on TV.”
Ernie took a shot at Hopper’s ankle, but Hopper moved it quickly and the board thudded to the concrete.
“Stop that!”
Ernie pointed a finger. These two were made for Broadway, Hopper thought. “We don’t need you playing private eye. It’ll make things worse. Trust me, there’s not a case here. I tried to tell you before.”
“The rich kid sent you, right? The babydaddy? Just tell me that much at least. His folks are protecting him. They know something.”
“Silly conjecture,” the lawyer said. “Absolute fantasy.”
“We’ll see. If I say I won’t give up, what’s next? Killing me?”
Ernie turned his head to the counselor, who looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying, “Whatever it takes. I don’t see a thing.”
He started to walk away at the same time Ernie lifted the board for another shot. Hopper grabbed Michel’s leg and yanked him, sunk his teeth into the lawyer’s calf.
“Holy shit, get him off !” Michel tried to get away, snapping pictures as he did. “Assault! Battery!”
Ernie landed a few blows to Hopper’s torso. Hopper kicked him in the knee. Not enough to drop him, so he did it again and again and again until there was a loud crack and the little punk collapsed.
Hopper scooted away. Ernie looked way too red, serious damage done. The lawyer was trying to keep the blood on his leg from ruining his suit. Michel said, “He might be diseased. Look what he’s done.”
“I…need an ambulance, Alex.”
The lawyer looked at Ernie, then at his leg, lifted slick wet fingers from where Hopper had broken skin and torn jagged holes. He shook his hand, wiped it on his sock. Still not good enough. He one-handed the digital camera and took some shots of Ernie.
“We’ll take this lightweight down, Ernie. He’s finished.”
“I don’t give a shit ,” Ernie said, seething between clenched teeth. “I want a fucking ambulance .”
Hopper was finally losing the stings of the two-by-four, getting his bearing back, when more trouble walked out the front door of the Pub and ogled the scene. The sportswatchers.
“Can you call 911? We’ve been attacked. Hold that guy. Don’t let him leave,” Michel said, pointing to Hopper.
Before Hopper could defend himself, the men were headed his way. He looked left, right. Goddamn it, why is this alley litter-free? When they were standing over Hopper, one reached a hand down. “Need a hand?”
The other turned to the lawyer and said, “We watched the whole thing from the bar. We’ve got windows, you know.” Chin nod towards Ernie. “That one got what he deserved.”
“I didn’t do a thing to him,” Ernie said.
The sportswatchers traded This is fun looks and the talker answered, “You’re kidding, right? You kicked him when he was down. Sure enough. That’s how I remember it.”
Michel tried to pull his sock
“My fucking face, man!”
The lawyer stood. “You’re not my client. He would like to have a word with you.”
Ernie rushed forward and took another swipe, Hopper’s ass getting the full force this time. Hopper scooted and curled into a fetal position, afraid to roll over, trying to find a chance to get up. Eyes sharp for a weapon—a bottle, another board.
“I’d advise you to stay still and listen. Any attempt you make to injure my client will be recorded.” Michel held up the digital camera. He pressed a button and it beeped.
Ernie said, “Once I break your nose, maybe you’ll listen to my offer again. I’m not asking much. Simply for you to back off a case no one wants you on.”
“Yasmin’s sister wants me on it. Must be important if it’s got you going.” Hopper was pretty sure there was a splinter in his ear.
“My client offers no response to that. Mr. Garland, it’s in your best interest to let the authorities take care of this matter.”
“If you were on TV, you’d say ‘Screw the police.’”
“We’re not on TV.”
Ernie took a shot at Hopper’s ankle, but Hopper moved it quickly and the board thudded to the concrete.
“Stop that!”
Ernie pointed a finger. These two were made for Broadway, Hopper thought. “We don’t need you playing private eye. It’ll make things worse. Trust me, there’s not a case here. I tried to tell you before.”
“The rich kid sent you, right? The babydaddy? Just tell me that much at least. His folks are protecting him. They know something.”
“Silly conjecture,” the lawyer said. “Absolute fantasy.”
“We’ll see. If I say I won’t give up, what’s next? Killing me?”
Ernie turned his head to the counselor, who looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying, “Whatever it takes. I don’t see a thing.”
He started to walk away at the same time Ernie lifted the board for another shot. Hopper grabbed Michel’s leg and yanked him, sunk his teeth into the lawyer’s calf.
“Holy shit, get him off !” Michel tried to get away, snapping pictures as he did. “Assault! Battery!”
Ernie landed a few blows to Hopper’s torso. Hopper kicked him in the knee. Not enough to drop him, so he did it again and again and again until there was a loud crack and the little punk collapsed.
Hopper scooted away. Ernie looked way too red, serious damage done. The lawyer was trying to keep the blood on his leg from ruining his suit. Michel said, “He might be diseased. Look what he’s done.”
“I…need an ambulance, Alex.”
The lawyer looked at Ernie, then at his leg, lifted slick wet fingers from where Hopper had broken skin and torn jagged holes. He shook his hand, wiped it on his sock. Still not good enough. He one-handed the digital camera and took some shots of Ernie.
“We’ll take this lightweight down, Ernie. He’s finished.”
“I don’t give a shit ,” Ernie said, seething between clenched teeth. “I want a fucking ambulance .”
Hopper was finally losing the stings of the two-by-four, getting his bearing back, when more trouble walked out the front door of the Pub and ogled the scene. The sportswatchers.
“Can you call 911? We’ve been attacked. Hold that guy. Don’t let him leave,” Michel said, pointing to Hopper.
Before Hopper could defend himself, the men were headed his way. He looked left, right. Goddamn it, why is this alley litter-free? When they were standing over Hopper, one reached a hand down. “Need a hand?”
The other turned to the lawyer and said, “We watched the whole thing from the bar. We’ve got windows, you know.” Chin nod towards Ernie. “That one got what he deserved.”
“I didn’t do a thing to him,” Ernie said.
The sportswatchers traded This is fun looks and the talker answered, “You’re kidding, right? You kicked him when he was down. Sure enough. That’s how I remember it.”
Michel tried to pull his sock
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