Condensation beaded on the glass, as an ice cube chinked and dropped lower in the amber fluid. Rady Joe, Club Voletta’s handyman, rubbed the chest of his sweat stained t-shirt, and swallowed, his eyes glued to the glass and it’s contents. He had come to the big man’s office to report when he noticed the abandoned glass. Giving in to his tired leg’s urging he sat on the long couch in front of the observation glass looking out over the club floor and studied the amber fluid.
‘It taken care of?’
Rady Joe nodded his tongue brushing against his suddenly parched bottom lip.
‘I said,’ Rady Joe froze at the soft spoken growl, and turned toward the tall slender man watching the club floor ‘is it taken care of?’
‘Yeah,’ the handyman assured him, as from behind a hand swept around his throat and slowly began to squeeze. Rady Joe felt his throat closing and fought with the loss of air to get his words out, ‘yessir, jez like you said, two miles in the swamp, weighed down.’ The last was whispered past fingers meeting around his windpipe.
Suddenly free, his own hands reached to brush his bruised skin as he gulped life giving air, his eyes darting with fright to the broad shoulder bodyguard he had not heard enter the room. The whiskey glass appeared before his lips as Club Voletta’s owner smirked at his man. ‘He was just leaving, weren’t you Rady Joe?’
Glass empty, hands trembling, the handyman pressed against the edges of the room, away from the intimidating guard and headed for the door, ‘yes sir’ was the only thing left in the room as the door creaked shut.
The club owner brushed down his Armani suit and turned back to watching the club floor, ‘have them replace the couch’ he ordered. Nodding, the bodyguard headed for the door only to be stopped, ‘..and Dak?’
Dak turned and for the first time looked into the eyes of the man who signed his paychecks. He could see nothing not even his reflection. Caught he continued to stare into the twin black holes. A vision of being snared in their gravity, and pulled screaming, deep within their darkness flooded his mind before he blinked. A frission of fear slipped down his spine as twin pinpoints of red glowed in the centers.
‘Take care of that for me,’ Club Voletta’s owner flicked his finger at the door through which Rady Joe had disappeared, his smile filled with awareness of the bodyguard’s fear.
Dak turned and headed out of the club office, his hands clenched in fists to keep them from trembling. His eyes moving over the concealed staging of bodyguards throughout the club. He wondered whether they had seen as well. He shook his head, and hunched his shoulders against another ripple of fear. They couldn’t have or they all would have come to the same conclusion he just had; they were damned. They were all, irrevocably damned.
Drabble – Word Count 499