Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“There’s big money in makin’ swords and knives,” he started. “Big money, man.” He exhaled smoke from the side of his twisted lips, and continued, “Like the specialty huntin’ knives and Japanese style, stuff like that. I bet you can make some pretty good ass dupes of the big sellin’ ones, can’t ya?”
“I can make a lot of things.” The one thing I can’t seem to make right now, though, is to make you disappear.
An awkward silence climbed between them and moved back and forth like a kid on a swing.
“I, uh, I can’t believe I ran into you, man!” Dolph smacked his arm with more force than was needed. It didn’t hurt, burn or sting, and Dolph looked rather disappointed about that. “Running into you was destiny, man. Like it was meant to be, ’cause I know all about it, this knife thing, and we can sit down over some coffee or beer or somethin’ and chat it up about it. I’ve been doin’ real good in gun trades, making good cash, and I could use someone like you to increase inventory for the knives. Tax free money.” Dolph turned away and looked at his Silverado for some reason, then focused on him again.
“Good luck with your business ventures. I’m not interested. I’ll be on my way now.” Nikolai turned away once again, so close to the gas station door he could taste it.
“Oh, really?! That’s how ya gonna be, Nik?! This is the opportunity of a lifetime!”
Nikolai disregarded him and kept moving.
“Don’t ignore me, you Goliath son of a bitch! Now I see why people said you were an asshole back in the day! Newsflash. You still are!”
Nikolai paused and looked over his shoulder at the gnat that refused to buzz off. “I’m not the one yellin’ in the middle of a parking lot at a guy who barely knows ya exist, Dolph. Just do us both a favor, and shut up and go home before you regret it.”
“You shut up, man! You’re not better than me, with your fuckin’ Silverado and metal shop. You suck, man!” He shot him the bird. Nikolai turned away and took another couple of steps, ignoring the people who were pumping gas and obviously eavesdropping. “You barely spoke to anyone, Nik, only hung out with big Jeff and them, and ya brothers! I don’t even know how’d I classify you. You weren’t super cool, but you weren’t a reject. You weren’t a jock, but you were athletic. Decent on the field I guess. Otherwise useless. You’re like a gigantic zit!”
Nikolai reached for the door but paused when an older woman gave him a stiff smile, looking nervous, as she maneuvered around him to enter the store. He could hear Dolph still yelling and coming toward him now in a burst of hard, fast stomps. He stopped everything and glared at the guy.
“I heard you had dated Zoe Riley for a couple years, Nikolai, and she left you. The hottest chick in our neighborhood.”
“Oh, really?” He grinned. “That’s wild. Since we’re catching up, I heard you beat off to old VHS tapes of Mike Tyson fights, Dolph, while still living in your mom’s basement. Now she knows why the socks in the laundry basket are always so fuckin’ stiff. What a douche.” He grabbed the handle of the gas station door to go inside, and it chimed as he opened it, but the son of a gun was right on his heels. He stepped inside anyway.
“Fucker! Oh, look! The Russian Paul Bunyan has a sense of humor!” Dolph let out an exaggerated goofy laugh as he waved his arms about, his fingers still grasping the cigarette. Nikolai’s head was feeling hot, and his right hand baby finger kept twitching. “You weirdo. Your whole fuckin’ family was a … Graaaaaa!!! Blurrrrrbbbb!!! Gaaahh!!!”
Nikolai spun around and took hold to Dolph’s pitiful face. And squeezed. Hard. The cigarette fell out of his mouth onto the ground, tumbling away as if to save itself from what was to come. Dolph’s stubbled jawbone shifted under his tight grip, crushed against the pad of his thumb on one side and his sprawled fingers on the other. Then, he lifted the diminutive man in the air until he dangled like a piece of withering fruit on a branch. He shook him like a dime in a tin can. The car keys slipped from Dolph’s hand and crashed against the linoleum floor.
“With just a little more pressure… not much… just a tiny bit more, I could crush the entire lower half of your fucked-up face. That would keep you quiet, now wouldn’t it?” he spat between clenched teeth.
Dolph’s tongue slung out the side of his mouth like a dead slug, and his eyes began to roll back like lottery balls.
“Oh goodness, no! Hey there! Hey!” A man came from the other side of the store, looking frantic and frazzled. “Let’s not do that, gentlemen. Come on now, come on! Break it up.” Approaching with a butcher-paper-wrapped gas station sandwich in his hand, the middle-aged, ruddy-cheeked man patted Nikolai’s arm with the other. His loose dark curls were sprinkled with gray, his face serious and erudite looking, only he was tall and had a bit of bulk to him, as though he’d played football back in the day. His eyes were kind, but filled with worry as he attempted to diffuse a situation. He’s probably some therapist or elementary school teacher. Nikolai was pretty good at guessing people’s occupations. It was a sort of game to him.