Blinded by Travis Thrasher Page A

of the lights of this room, you notice a scar on the edge of his neck. It looks like it came from a knife.
    “She told you I have what?”
    “To make things even. To square things away.”
    The man looks at you, watching, waiting. You wonder if he blinks at all.
    The guy who strangled you and the big guy in black are probably out in the hallway waiting. They’re just a call away.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    The man nods without expression.
    “I keep taking the young lady at her word. It’s becoming a little difficult to continue to do that.”
    “What do you think I have?”
    He ignores the question.
    “I would hate for something to happen to Ms. Shreve.”
    “Where is she?” you demand.
    “Please, no need to raise your voice.”
    The man puts out his cigarette and then rests his arms on his legs, staring at you.
    “What is a guy like you doing involved with something like this?”
    “Something like what?”
    He doesn’t believe your earnestness, but looks amused at the fact that you’re trying.
    “You know, all I need is a name,” the man says. “Then your life is ours.”
    You think of your license in your wallet.
    No way is anybody touching me
.
    Nobody is going to find out who I am
.
    “Whatever is going on, it’s none of my business.”
    “This is your business. I think you know that.”
    You stand up, wanting to get away from feeling like you’re in trouble, like you’re being interrogated.
    “Where is she?” you ask.
    “I think you know that better than I do.”
    “I just saw her a few moments ago.”
    “Of course you did. Why else did you come here?”
    You look at him and he acts as though he’s spoken with you a hundred times before.
    “I don’t know what—”
    “Please now. This is not worth the effort.”
    “What effort? What are you talking about? I just met her tonight.”
    “Did the plan change?”
    You stare at him and shake your head.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say in the most earnest voice you can utter.
    “You being here means something, and I know that.”
    “Yeah, well, maybe I just want to leave.”
    “You can’t do that.”
    He takes out a cigarette from the pack in his coat and starts smoking it. He doesn’t look bothered or worried in the least.
    “I don’t know what this is about or what’s going on with you and ‘Ms. Shreve,’ and I think that it’s none of my business.”
    “It’s only business,” the man says. “That’s all.”
    “Yeah, but it’s not mine.”
    “Where are you from?” he asks.
    You look at the door and then back at him.
    “You’re not from around here, are you?”
    He inhales the cigarette and blows out the smoke. He seems okay at your reticence.
    “It doesn’t matter if you leave this club or this city. I have ways of finding people.”
    “This is not my business.”
    For the first time all night you feel like Lisa and the kids could be pulled into this mess, that they could actually be in serious danger.
    It’s not just about you and a pretty stranger anymore.
    This is your family they’re talking about.
    They don’t know my name
.
    All you have to do is get out of here. Somehow get out of here without their knowing anything more about you.
    Jasmine knows your name
.
    But she doesn’t know your whole name, does she?
    “Uh uh uh,” he starts to say as you turn for the door. “You don’t want to do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “Open that door.”
    You look at the man as he takes a long draw from his cigarette. He grins and shows teeth in bad need of repair.
    “Maybe I want to,” you say.
    “And maybe there are fifty guys in this place who don’t really want you to leave. It won’t be my problem if you leave this room. It will be their problem.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    “Yes. And you don’t want it to be their problem. You want it to be my problem. With me, things stay calm. Things stay safe.”
    “Look, man—”
    The man curses at you and you begin to wonder if