Chapter 3 - The Weight of Steel
Julian doesn't look at the paint.
He doesn't look at the keys dangling from her red-painted nails.
His right hand twitches at his side, his large knuckles cracking in the quiet space.
"He scratched it?" Julian asks.
His voice is a low baritone that vibrates through the concrete under their feet.
"Right on the door panel!" she says, taking a step toward him, her satin blouse rustling.
"I told his mother he stays here until the detail job is finished."
Julian turns his head slowly toward her.
The blonde woman smiles, leaning her shoulder toward his chest.
His right arm swings back.
The movement is not a slap; it is a heavy, sweeping backhand backed by two hundred pounds of dense muscle.
SNAP.
The sound rings out like a pistol shot against the high concrete ceiling.
Her head snaps sideways, her golden hair whipping across her face.
Her body leaves the ground for a fraction of a second before slamming hard against the sedan’s side panel.
The black door metal groans under the impact.
The key fob flies from her hand, bouncing twice across the wet floor before sliding under the front bumper.
May you like
She slides down the polished door, her hand flying to her left cheek.
The skin instantly turns a deep, mottled crimson, swelling tight over her cheekbone.
