The Thug

My hands are still shaking. I’m absolutely in tatters. FringeSister’s husband turned up at the MNM office, and it was not a good situation.

He walked in calm as you like, and as I was in the middle of something else, so I didn’t really notice who he was until he was at my desk. The moment I looked up and saw him, I recognised his face. I didn’t know why he was here, but I’ve seen him kick holes in walls, so I couldn’t imagine it was a social call.

He leans across the ledge at the front of my desk and he quietly says, ‘I want my money.’

I started shaking, he’s a scary bloke, but I managed to keep my composure and tell him that I didn’t know what he was talking about.

He then said, ‘I think you do. I want my fucking money.’ 

Right at this point Intern2 came into the room. He was on his way out of the office to meet Goatee at a retailer, but he could tell something was amiss, so he asked if ‘everything was okay?’

FringeSisterHusband turned, puffed himself out and said to Intern2, ‘Ain’t none of your business pal.’

Intern2 was such a star. He calmly said, ‘This is a business, jock. And if you have any problems with Chellee you have a problem with the business. So what can I do for you?’

I couldn’t believe it. I thought Intern2 was going to get punched. Or worse.

FringeHusbandSister got right up in Intern2’s face and says, ‘She owes me ten thousand pounds. I don’t care who gives me my fucking money. As long as I get it.’

All I could think of was ‘Holy shit!’ I’d over paid rent in the flat and Marathon reimbursed me, but it was no where near £10,000. Fringe and her sister must have taken the entire ten grand off the husband and blamed me. In fact, Marathon had told me that it was £3000 that was knicked off the husband. Either they took a lot more, or FringeSisterHusband is trying to lean on me for more than he thinks I took. But, I’m not giving him any money, not £10K, not £3K or even £600. The problem was, I couldn’t very well say ‘I only took £600 of your money.’ I couldn’t really do much at all.

In fact, until this moment, it never really dawned on me that it wasn’t exactly my money. I mean, I was getting paid back for overpaid rent. But then again, it’s not like it was Fringe and Marathon’s money I was being given. I was royally fucked.

HarryPotter then came through, and this is when FringeSisterHusband said, ‘I’m going to get paid today. This is a business; you must have some cash around here. Or, we can square it in some other way.’

I have no idea what that ‘other way’ meant, but I don’t think it was a better option. It was time for me to say something, so I said again, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have your money.’

He turns to me and slams his fist down on the counter, ‘I’m done fucking around.’

I was scared shitless. HarryPotter and Intern2 wedged themselves between FringeHusbandSister and myself, and Boobs came out to see what all the fuss was about.

Boobs walked over to the front door, and at first I thought she was just going to leave. But instead she calm and collectedly opened the door and said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I will not have this sort of activity in a place of business. I’ve called the police, so you have two options. You can leave before they get here, or you can stay and get arrested.’

FringeSisterHusband turned without saying a word and walked out the door. But before Boobs shut the door behind him, FringeSisterHusband turned and said, ‘This ain’t over.’

I actually held my breath until Boobs shut and locked the door. I’ve never been so scared.

Boobs, on the way back to her office, says to me, ‘Stop bringing your personal problems to work. You need to start acting like a professional.’ As if I had anything to do with that psycho! I wanted to scream.

Intern2 asked if I was ‘okay’ and I thanked him profusely. HarryPotter didn’t fuss over me, instead he went straight back to his desk and got on the phone. I could hear him. I’ve never heard him get that loud before. He was talking to Hall, telling her to pass a message to FringeSister. Actually, he was yelling, ‘You need to tell that bitch to call off her goon husband. Chellee has nothing to do with any dodgy shit that went on in that flat…’ He continued on for about another ten minutes before hanging up the phone.

Intern2 fixed me a cup of tea and told me that the police weren’t coming. It was all a bluff. My god Boobs must be amazing at Poker.

NFEditor finally comes out of her office. She wanders over to my desk and says, ‘Oh. Everything okay out here?’ Intern2 put her off by saying it was ‘nothing’ just a ‘misunderstanding’. What a cowardly little bitch. 

I’ve got another hour or so before I’m off work. I just can’t concentrate, and I’m so happy that HarryPotter is driving home. I have no desire to walk around Glasgow on my own. Right now, London is looking pretty good.

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2 responses to “The Thug

  1. I just did some backreading on your blog so that I knew what was going on, I can’t believe you were sleeping on a matress with three grand stuffed inside it! All good material for your writing though eh?

    • I KNOW! It’s freaky. But I’m glad I actually didn’t know at the time. I couldn’t have dealt with that sort of moral dilemma. It’s not like I would have knicked it, but I would most certainly have freaked out. So glad to be out of that situation. In fact, I’m quite happy I’m leaving Glasgow in a month or so. Get this wacko away from me.
      Thanks for reading, and thanks for the comment.
      –C

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