Time: 15:00. Location: Fruit&Food Supermarket.
"This tastes like shit" Finishing a sip of the milkshake, Alikhan curses and throws it on the floor, spraying the milky contents on the polished surface. Still raging, he gets a box of sugary corn flakes from the shelf, opens and shoves it down, swallowing a good handful. A mother and her young son coming down the aisle with a stroller, seeing them, quickly back away. Alikhan notices and chuckles, flakes sticking to his white teeth. "I wasted my time coming to this country... And now if I go back to Ukraine the old man will never take his eye off me. Life sure loves fuck me in the ass"
"Your father knows what he's doing, you just have to... Get used to his rhythm" Who answers him is The Polack, a man almost 2 meters tall, beard and red hair, and a square face with thick sideburns. Although his dark trench coat and black leather gloves give him the air of a thug, it is true that The Polack's face seems very friendly, as does his voice, and Alikhan has to accept that his attitude is the most tolerable and relaxed among the four of them. It is only natural that Oleksandr trusted The Polack, and appointed him as Alikhan's bodyguard and chauffeur. As a teenager Alikhan was wary of The Polack because he was a man on his father's payroll, but over time they built something resembling a vague friendship.
Bosco and Igor were much less pleasing to the eye. The former is overweight, short of stature, and even shorter fuse for anger. The latter is lanky and doe-eyed, and quite the boot-licker if you asked Alikhan. But they've known each other since they were kids, and Alikhan trusts them, they are his men, not his father's, and that gives him something solid to hold on to, something that is truly his. Alikhan promises himself that when Oleksandr dies and inherits all his riches, he will richly reward those two bastards.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but you must escort me to the exit" a new voice joins in.
The thugs look at the newcomer. He is an obese, white man, with an incipient bald head and a brown mustache; He has a ridiculously small truncheon ready in his hand; On the chest of his tight blue shirt there is a small badge identifying him as:
James Mayers. Security.
Alikhan runs his tongue over his teeth, he can't wait to let out a laugh in the fat man's face, he simply finds him a pathetic sight. Alikhan drops the box and stomps on it, the flakes mixing with the puddle of milkshake. In response the supermarket guard frowns and reemphasizes his order.
"I insist, escort me out this instant"
"Really?" The mockery is palpable in Alikhan's tone, who looks at his companions. "What do you say, guys? Shall we leave now, when we are so comfortable?"
"I say we beat up the grease barrel" says Bosco, cracking his knuckles. Igor mimics him. James' forehead curdles with beads of sweat.
The Polack leans over to Alikhan to whisper a reminder.
"Your father will be angry if we draw too much attention to ourselves"
Alikhan wipes his ear as if it's hard to hear, then looks at his finger, no match on his fingertip.
"Calling attention, you're telling me? "He looks sideways at The Polack, who is already sighing with surrender as he foresees what is coming. "You mean this?"
From one second to the next Alikhan lifts his leg and kicks James in the center of the stomach. The supermarket guard groans and falls, holding his belly. Bosco and Igor take the kick as a signal, approach and rain a hail of kicks on James, marring his uniform, scraping his skin, crushing his muscles and nearly breaking his bones. A kick delivered by Igor to James' temple shuts down the guard's consciousness for a couple of seconds.
The Polack shakes his head, runs his palms over his face several times, and curses to himself.
Alikhan smiles in satisfaction at the spectacle. He notices someone peeking out from the back of the shelves, and as he looks, he discovers a little man leaning over. The little man seems to be gathering his courage to interfere, delays for a minute, and when he feels ready he shouts to them.
"Stop or I'll get the police!" His voice stutters, his tone as high-pitched as that of a hanging chicken.
Bosco and Igor stop kicking a stunned James and watch Alikhan waiting for instructions. Alikhan was about to order to go for the little guy, but The Polack with quick steps goes ahead of him.
"Are you the manager?" asks The Polack with his best smile. The little man sweats and nods, "Can we talk for a moment in your office? Do me that favor, my good man, I promise it won't take too long"
The Polack's good face, clearly of genuine kindness, wins over the manager, who, after several seconds of fear and doubt, decides to go with Alikhan and company to the office to clarify the matter... Even though this one is already quite clear. The manager tells James to look for a first aid kit in the break room, and James does just that.
The supermarket guard, sitting in his surveillance chair near the entrance, uses a cotton swab and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol to clean the scuffs left by the thugs' boots. He grunts and hisses every time the substance burns him, but he holds in the pain and continues with the treatment. I was hoping to see the thugs come by and apologize... Personally I'd rather see them get a few days in prison to learn their lesson, but James understands and accepts that the manager doesn't want to build a circus.
The manager appears first, smiles and nods, but not to James, but to The Polack, who places a hand on the little man's shoulder, both acting as if they are lifelong friends.
"Mr. Onyshchenko will be very grateful for your understanding" says The Polack.
James looks at his boss for answers, but he gives him a stern look and a shout.
"James, how could you threaten this young man?!"
James almost chokes on his own saliva, trembles, stands up from the chair, shakes his head, the bottle of medicinal alcohol shudders in his hand.
"But, sir, they-"
"Shut up, James! Hand over your things and get out! You're fired!"
James is speechless. Behind the manager are Alikhan and his companions, who, when they face James, give him smiles and haughty glances
...
Time: 16:05. Location: Mayers House.
"I'm home!" Veronica shouts as she enters, holding a large flat box in one hand. She sets her backpack by the door, on a rack near the hat stand. "I brought pizza! The good stuff, from Mario! It's a me!"
As soon as she enters, a blurry blob comes and lunges at her. Veronica stands upright like a champion, past and repeated experiences have helped her know how to position the legs. Jason remains clinging to her, he lifts his smiling face bright with joy.
"Vera, you came!"
"Where else would I be, little mouse?" With one hand Veronica undoes his thick brown hair.
Jason jumps back, pouts and puts his hands to the head to protect himself.
"Veraaaa! I'm not a kid anymore!"
"Tell me when you're taller than me"
"In two years!"
"How optimistic"
Any trace of grumpiness is soon erased from Jason's face, who excitedly recognizes the pizza box and starts pulling Veronica by her clothes into the living room.
"The Nostalgia Critic has uploaded a new episode!"
"I will watch with you if you promise look at least once any film he has reviewed"
"But they're like two hours long"
"That's less than the Minecraft streamings you like"
"Yes, but the Minecraft streamings are cinema!"
Veronica rolls her eyes as if asking heaven for patience.
They leave the pizza box open on the table in front of the TV, the spices and pepperoni releasing their delicious aroma. Jason manipulates the TV control to put the critic's channel on the screen. Veronica peeks into the kitchen, noticing it dark.
"Dad's not home from work yet?"
"He's upstairs" Jason answers without looking at her.
"Dad usually comes in like a bullet when he hears the word Pizza"
"He didn't hear you... And he won't hear you"
The mood in Jason's voice fades, and that uneasiness begins to worry Veronica, who loses her smile and furrows her eyebrows, then opens her eyes wide and bolts up the stairs.
Veronica crosses the hallway and opens the door, finding the bedroom with the lights off. She flips the switch on the wall and when the lights come back on, she sees him. James is lying on the floor, his back to the edge of the bed, his chin sunk into his chest, and two one-liter bottles of liquor on the side of his legs.
Different emotions cross Veronica's face. For a second her face flushes red with anger; then she calms down, her eyes turning to cold disappointment; but then she notices the dustiness of James' uniform and the bruises smeared across his face and arms. Anger is put on the back burner and Veronica prioritizes concern.
"Dad, wake, dad!" The girl kneels to the side and shakes his shoulders.
James's eyes widen, he mumbles sounds incomprehensible, his breath reeking of liquor.
"What are you talking about?! Who did this to you?!"
James makes another effort to speak, his syllables come out slurred and slurred.
"Forgive me... Vera... Forgive me..."
Veronica slips her hands under his armpits and with all the strength her arms, legs, and back can muster, drags the heavy man into the bathroom. She yells for Jason to call the police. As James continues to mutter and repeat....
"I'm a failure... Forgive me... I don't deserve this family..."