My stomach drops when the man in the corner, the one with melted chocolate brown eyes, raises his gaze to mine. The other men notice he’s looking at me. They stop talking, turning their attention up to me as well. But I’m locked in his gaze. His hair is mussed up, like he’s been running his hands through it recently. He has a short beard, but it doesn’t take away from his features like the thick beards of his partners. It makes him look relaxed. But he’s not. He’s dangerous.
“Hi. Uh.” I clear my throat and roll my shoulders back. “I think you’re here to meet Oliver, is that right?”
The man closest to where I stand leans back in his chair. “You his secretary?” He laughs.
“No.” I squeeze the envelope I’m holding with both hands. Ten thousand dollars isn’t as heavy as I thought it would be, but I’m not taking any chances at dropping it.
“Is he here?” the other man asks. The one in the corner, though, he just leans back in his chair and watches me with open curiosity. Like a train wreck is about to happen and he wants to see if I’ll get out of the way in time.
“No.” I clear my throat again. Why does it keep closing like that? “But I think I have what you need.”
“Oh, that’s a real possibility,” the first guy says and his gaze glides over me like I’m a piece of pork loin in the butcher’s display case.
“I mean, I have this for you.” I put out the envelope, aiming it at the man in the corner. He hasn’t said a word, but I get the sense he’s in charge.
He looks at the man to my left and gives a nod. The guy takes the envelope. Opening it, he thumbs through the bills, a frown settling on his face. He shakes his head.
“It’s not all here.”
“How much is there?” the gawker asks.
“Ten grand.” He drops the envelope on the table and slides it at me. “Wrong amount.”
“Right. I understand that, but this is just a down payment. You’ll get the rest, just not today. I mean, it’s a payment. Loans have payments, and that’s what this is.” I push the envelope back at him.
“Oh. A payment. Hear that, Yogi, she’s making a payment.”
Yogi, the man across from him takes the envelope and looks through it himself. “I’ll have to check the loan document, but I’m pretty fucking sure the amount was a flat rate. Two hundred grand plus interest. This envelope is two hundred forty thousand dollars short.” Yogi drops the envelope back on the table. It’s like a toy for them. Everything I had saved up is in that envelope and they’re tossing it back and forth like it’s a beanbag.
“Boris, Yogi. You’re being rude.” The man in the corner finally speaks. “How do you know Oliver?”
“I’m his sister.” I raise my chin with my answer. I’m not sure if I’ve given him ammunition against me, or if I’ve made things better with my admission.
“Why is he not here?” He looks toward the swinging door that leads to the back. “Or is he hiding?”
“He’s… I’m not sure why he’s not here.” I have no defense of my brother, but I can’t let him get eaten by these sharks. “Maybe he got caught up at work.”
Yogi laughs. “If he worked, he wouldn’t have come to us in the first place.” His thick accent makes his comment seem darker somehow.
“Anyway, I’m sure he has a good reason. But I’m here. And I have the money he was going to give you. He needs more time, but I swear to you, he’ll pay it all back. Every penny.” I’m not sure how the hell that’s going to happen, but that’s a tomorrow worry.
“Yogi, Boris.” The man in the corner rattles off orders in Russian and they both get up from the table. I take a step back to get out of their way when they walk past me, toward the sandwich counter. I watch them, afraid they’re going to go into the kitchen where Joey is.
“What are they doing?” I ask.
“Nothing to worry about.” He stands up from the table. He’s taller than he seemed when they walked in. Now that I’m this close to him, I can feel his size. I barely come up to his chin, and his shoulders look ready to hit the football field.
“You’ll take the payment then?” I pick up the discarded envelope and try to hand it to him.
“No.” He shakes his head and moves toward me. Instinctively, I step back, but he follows me, taking up all the space between us until there’s none. “It’s your money, not his.”
“You can’t know that,” I point out. He’s completely accurate, but he doesn’t know it for a fact.
“When someone borrows the amount of money he did, we make assurances we don’t lose our cash.” He looks around the deli with half a frown.
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Yogi and Boris. They’re leaning against the counter with their arms crossed; just waiting on orders, I’m sure.
“If your brother doesn’t have the cash, we help him along. The insurance on a place like this would cover his debt to my family.”