The guy’s voice cracks when he says, “That’s it, I swear!”
I hear the chair roll briefly, and now I’m imagining him leaning forward, his elbows on the desk and his hands clasped together in front of him. I hear what sounds like a stack of papers hit the floor. “You think I don’t know when someone has gone through my shit!”
Oh, hell. This poor guy may take the fall for something I’ve done.
“Seth, take his phone, then get him nice and comfortable in the warehouse. Get the other guys up here. I’ll let Robert know they’re ready for him.”
“Wait! Wait! There’s no reason to call Robert!” the guy shouts. He sounds even more terrified.
From the information I found, the “Robert” he is referring to is probably Robert Davidson, one of his biggest customers. And from my research, Freddie and his cohorts should be terrified he’s getting involved.
Ryan waits an uncomfortably long time before he finally answers. “You think the load you were trying to lift today was going to just appear out of thin air? You think Robert wouldn’t find out his goods never made it to their destination?” His voice grows louder with each sentence, the edge sharpening on every word. “You and those fucking idiot friends of yours jeopardized my entire operation for a few grand. You didn’t even know the value of the merchandise in the truck. You think you’re so smart to line up a buyer in advance, but you’re so fucking stupid because you made a deal with one of my own guys. I knew what you were trying to do thirty fucking seconds after you made contact with him.”
“Shit, Ryan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. The other guys talked me into it.”
“Stop talking before you really piss me off.” Ryan’s voice is loud enough that I flinch. “You’re not my problem anymore. You picked the wrong truck, my friend. Robert wants a few words with you and your buddies. Seth, get him the fuck out of my office.”
The silence is almost jarring after the last several minutes. I’ve never heard Ryan talk to anyone so brutally before. It’s hard to reconcile the man I’ve come to know with the man in the next room.
He works at the desk awhile longer while I hunker down in the stall. Seth is back before long, and it sounds like he settles into one of the other chairs. I hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but it’s just normal chitchat between two guys who have known each other a long time. They talk about the Texas Rangers’ chances of making the playoffs, and Ryan ribs him about some girl Seth has been hooking up with. There’s a long discussion about craft beer that has me wanting to beat my head against the wall if I could do it without giving away my hiding spot.
While I wait for the opportunity to make my getaway, this new Ryan takes shape in my mind. You have to be ruthless in business, even more so when you’re working on the wrong side of the law. I knew Ryan couldn’t have achieved such success without getting his hands a little dirty. But if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I would never have believed he was capable of threatening to have someone’s fingers cut off one by one. His methods may be a bit barbaric, but they also seemed to be effective, since Freddie gave his buddies up within seconds. I’m glad to have seen this side of him. I need to know what I’m dealing with when it comes to Ryan.
Finally, Ryan and Seth leave the office, and I wait another few minutes before slowly pulling the curtain open. I spot them through the window, immersed in conversation with a trucker who has pulled up, so I sneak out the way I came in, retracing my steps until I’m back to my rental car in the adjacent parking lot.
I check my phone and see I have a message from the tire shop letting me know my car is ready, and another that Ryan left fifteen minutes ago telling me that he’s almost done with his meeting and should be on the road soon. While I watch him, I text him back to say I’ll pick up dinner on my way home from work. Less than a minute later he’s pulling his phone from his back pocket. He steps away from the guys he’s talking to, turning his back on them, which means he’s now facing me. I didn’t see him earlier, so I’m surprised at how tired he looks. And a little haggard. His thumbs move over the screen and a few seconds later my phone buzzes in my hand.
Ryan: Today sucked. Can’t wait to see you
I try to ignore what those two sentences make me feel by reminding myself that Ryan will come home tonight, dressed in the suit he left home in this morning, and lie about why his day sucked. Then I’ll show him the ticket from the tire shop and bitch that they overcharged me.