Chapter 2 - The Debt With His Name on It
At 8:03 the next morning, Clara walked into Vincent's office.
He was already there.
So were three men.
Saul Romano sat in front of the desk.
Beside him stood Mickey Dolan.
Clara stopped.
Mickey smiled.
“Well.”
Vincent's voice cut through the room.
“Don't.”
Mickey's smile disappeared.
Clara looked at Vincent.
“You promised.”
“I did.”
“You brought them here.”
“For information.”
Saul leaned forward.
“Vincent, what exactly is this?”
Vincent placed a folder on the desk.
“Clara Hayes.”
Saul glanced at her.
“What about her?”
“Her father was Thomas Hayes.”
Recognition flickered across Mickey's face.
Vincent saw it.
“You remember him.”
Mickey shrugged.
“Gambler.”
“Dead gambler.”
“Still owed eighty grand.”
Vincent leaned back.
“Did Clara sign for the debt?”
“No.”
“Did she guarantee it?”
“No.”
“Then why have you collected forty-eight thousand dollars from her?”
Silence.
Mickey's eyes shifted toward Saul.
Saul frowned.
“Forty-eight?”
Clara looked at Vincent.
He explained quietly.
“Two thousand a week. Twenty-four weeks.”
She nodded.
Mickey spread his hands.
“She agreed to pay.”
Clara finally spoke.
“You told me you'd visit my sister.”
“I said we knew where she lived.”
“You sent me a photograph of her apartment.”
Saul slowly turned toward Mickey.
“You did what?”
Mickey's confidence slipped.
“I was motivating payment.”
Vincent's voice remained calm.
“Was threatening relatives authorized?”
“No,” Saul said immediately.
Mickey looked at him.
“Come on.”
“No,” Saul repeated.
Vincent opened the folder.
“Was collecting interest without reducing principal authorized?”
Saul's face hardened.
“No.”
“Was inheriting gambling debt from a dead borrower authorized?”
“No.”
Mickey pushed away from the chair.
“This is ridiculous.”
Vincent looked at Clara.
“You wanted information.”
She folded her arms.
“I’m listening.”
Vincent tapped the folder.
“Your father borrowed forty thousand dollars.”
Clara blinked.
“He told me eighty.”
“Because he added unauthorized penalties.”
Mickey's face changed.
Vincent continued.
“Your father repaid thirty-one thousand before he died.”
Clara stared at him.
“So he owed nine?”
“Nine thousand.”
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“I've paid forty-eight.”
“Yes.”
Clara turned toward Mickey.
“You knew?”
Mickey said nothing.
“You knew I was working two jobs.”
“Not my problem.”
Vincent's hand tightened against the desk.
Clara noticed.
“Don't.”
Vincent looked at her.
She stepped toward Mickey herself.
“You came to my apartment.”
Mickey smirked.
“You always had a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Pay or don't pay.”
“And then my sister?”
“I never touched her.”
“You made sure I believed you would.”
Mickey shrugged.
“Business.”
Clara laughed once.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“That isn't business.”
She turned toward Vincent.
“That's what men say when they want cowardice to sound professional.”
Vincent didn't disagree.
Mickey's face reddened.
“You think you're something because you answer his phone?”
Clara took another step.
“No. I think I'm something because you spent six months trying to make me feel like nothing, and I'm still standing here.”
Mickey looked at Vincent.
“You're going to let your secretary talk to me like this?”
Vincent's answer was immediate.
“Yes.”
Saul lowered his gaze.
Mickey scoffed.
“This organization has rules.”
Vincent stood.
“Correct.”
The room became silent.
“And you broke almost every one related to lending.”
Mickey's smile vanished.
“What are you saying?”
Vincent looked at Clara.
“I'm saying she decides what happens next.”
Mickey laughed.
“You're joking.”
Vincent didn't blink.
Mickey stopped laughing.
Clara stared at the man who had terrified her for six months.
She could destroy him with one sentence.
Vincent would do it.
Everyone in the room knew that.
“No,” Clara said.
Vincent's brow moved slightly.
“No what?”
“No violence.”
Mickey's relief was immediate.
Clara turned to Vincent.
“I want every dollar documented.”
“All forty-eight thousand?”
“Every dollar I've paid.”
Vincent nodded.
“I want the nine thousand my father actually owed deducted.”
Another nod.
“The remaining thirty-nine thousand comes back to me.”
Mickey exploded.
“You're out of your damn mind.”
Vincent looked at him.
“She wasn't finished.”
Mickey shut his mouth.
Clara continued.
“I want written confirmation that my sister has no obligation to anyone.”
“Done,” Vincent said.
“And Mickey never comes near either of us again.”
Vincent's gaze shifted toward Mickey.
“Done.”
Mickey stood.
“You can't—”
Vincent raised one finger.
Mickey froze.
Clara watched.
For the first time, she understood something.
Vincent didn't need to shout.
Power didn't always look like violence.
Sometimes it looked like a room becoming silent because one man lifted his hand.
Vincent turned back to Clara.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I quit the diner.”
Something almost resembling relief crossed his face.
“Good.”
“After I finish tonight.”
His expression vanished.
“Absolutely not.”
Clara stared at him.
“You said I decide.”
“That was regarding Mickey.”
“You don't own my employment.”
“No, but—”
“I promised Gary two weeks' notice.”
“Gary calls you Cindy.”
“That isn't the point.”
“What is the point?”
Clara picked up her bag.
“That when I walk out of something, Vincent, I want it to be because I chose to.”
She headed for the door.
Behind her, Vincent said:
“Clara.”
She turned.
“What?”
His voice softened.
“You've made your point.”
“No.”
She looked at Mickey.
May you like
“I'm starting to.”
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