Chapter 1
A big burly man shoved hard, and Koz could hear the creaking of the drywall that was tight against his back. His breathing was a bit labored from the force that the large man held him against the wall.
“Koz, Koz. What are we going to do with you?” The man looking on Koz’s discomfort wore a black tux, and was rolling a fat cigar between his well-manicured fingertips.
“How about we call it a lesson learned and call it a day?” The force on his chest made his words a bit forced and breathy, but he was sure they were what caused the next assault.
The burly man threw a large, plump fist that landed square in his gut, the wind gushing from what air was left in his lungs in a harsh force. His gut clenched as he was let loose and slid sharply down the wall to the floor. Clutching his gut with one hand, he rocked a bit on his remaining hand and knees as he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath from the punch.
“Oh, it’ll be a lesson learned, have no doubt about that.” The man in the tux walked closer to Koz and leaned over him. “I will get what is owed me, be it in bills or blood.”
“How about credit? I am good for it.” The guttural words would not bring him peace, yet the words nearly fell out before he thought them through.
The man in the tux stood up once again, and motioned towards the large man. The man picked Koz up by his scruff, and landed a meaty hand against the side of his face, covering his eye and nearly his whole cheek. The crack of bone was unmistakable, and the taste of blood touched his tongue when it sprayed across his lips as his nose was ripped out of joint.
The man in the tux kept his back to Koz as he walked toward the staircase that would lead him back to the party that played loud above their heads. “I have guests to attend to.” He flicked his hand in the air as if to dismiss Koz. “You have forty-eight hours, Koz. I will collect: bills or blood. Your choice.”
When the door closed, the burly man grabbed Koz once again, and drug him to the opened cellar doors. Once there, he drug him up face to face with him so close that the smell of garlic and fish mingled with the scent of his own blood, enough so that he felt a wave of nausea pass over him. “It would make me real happy to provide you with my plastic surgery specials.”
“Been practicing on yourself, have you?”
The man’s face twisted, and his fist clenched white around Koz’s shirt as Koz watched with amazement when this man brought up a portly leg that held both muscle and fat in sheer balance, and swung it hard against his chest. The brunt of it landed on his chest, and Koz swore he could hear one of his ribs crack under its bulk. Falling beyond the opened doors, he landed hard on the manicured lawns that surrounded the small mansion. His lungs burned with pain as he coughed and sucked in air. Blood trickled down from his nose, and his eye was swollen shut.
The large man spat down at Koz, and the spray of it landed over his face. The flesh beneath the vile saliva started to crawl at the thought of it, and Koz allowed himself to roll over slightly, letting his face brush against the moist grass that had only moments before been showered by cooling sprinkles in a night too hot to bare rain. Though the prickles of the blades of grass made his skin itch, and the inability to keep his head raised to keep the pressure of the ground from his face that caused it to burn with pain, the coolness of it was refreshing and the dampness would at least partly remove the disgusting spit of the giant man.
“No sense of humor.” It was the last words he could muster before trying to crawl to his car and to a 24-hour clinic that could help put him back together.
Forty-eight hours was not long enough for him to earn back the hundred grand he owed, but he would have to figure something out. Bills or blood. He much preferred the idea of bills.
