An Affair With My Boss by Brendan Verville Page B

him.
                  “But I’m paying your way, Mr.  Casino,” Tom said.  He picked up the shot glass and held it up in the man’s face.  “I paid for this glass.  And for that gold chain around your neck.  Without me, you’d be nothing.  How does it feel to succeed at the expense of my broken back?” Tom rolled up his soiled sleeves, still stained with oil from his job at the car dealership.
                  “I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down,” the man said calmly.  “It’s been a long day for me as well, and this isn’t how I wanted to end my night.”
                  “How? By losing your best fucking customer? That’s too damn bad.”
                  Tom wound back his hand and thrust the shot glass against the stiff carpet at their feet.  I felt the rain of glass on my pant legs.
                  “Tom!” I exclaimed, grabbing his arm, but it was the man who grabbed my arm.  Once he did, I felt myself go limp as he pulled me back, tucking me safely behind him in a slow motion maneuver.
                  He did not break his stolid focus or even move to react.  He only stared back at Tom, challenging him from his barstool, looking much smaller than he probably intended.  I watched serious concern wash over Tom’s face as he realized what he’d done, and his sneer was long gone.  He looked like he was about ready to apologize to this large man, whose presence was suddenly enough to fill the room, enough to command it to attention and cut it down with a chop of his hand.
                  “I’m John Krasner,” the man said, his arms crossed over his chest.  “I’m the owner of The Salvador, as well as the other four casinos in this area, what the locals call the “Blind Alley.” The title caught on, though I never paid it much mind.  I see it as only a joke, you know, as if people are being robbed blind.  I can laugh at it, just like I can laugh at your jokes tonight.  They’re all in good fun, as we both know.  Right?”
                  Tom could only nod his head stupidly.  He shot me a doubtful look as though I could help him, but there was no way I was going to interrupt what happened next. 
                  “I’m so glad we can laugh about my multi-billion dollar industry,” John said with a chuckle.  He shook his head to himself.  “And we can laugh about you as well.  Where can we start? I don’t know.  How about your face?”
                  Tom seemed to go rigid.  He twisted around even farther in his seat until he was in profile with John.  “What’d you just say?” Something was wrong now.  The air was growing thick.
                  “I said it has something to do with your face.  It looks as if it’s about to break open,” John said through his smile.
                  Tom obviously didn’t know what to do with this.  He shook his head slowly from side to side.  There was a quiet cautiousness about him now.  His feet were firmly planted on the floor, in case he needed to get up quick.
                  Tom scoffed.  “Are you fucking threatening me?”
                  John sighed and turned toward the bartender, standing in anticipation.  John signaled that Tom was ready to pay.
                  “Hey man, what the fuck is your problem?” Tom spat.
                  “What do you do for a living?” John asked without looking at him.
                  “What? What are you talking about?”
                  Tom was about to ask the question a second time, when a large man approached the bar, and we all looked at him.  He settled on top of Tom’s barstool, with his trench coat tails grazing the floor and his lengthy hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He pushed away Tom’s money from the bar, before waving the bartender