Change Happens Chapter Nine: Correcting His Mistakes.

If Robin wants to be free of Jeff, she has to correct his mistakes.

I sat alone in the diner. I had come ten minutes earlier than I was told. I didn’t want to come across as someone who wasn’t serious about putting all this behind me. I wanted nothing to do with anything Jeff and the others had done. All I wanted was to be left alone.

“Refill?” the lady asked as she passed my table.

“Yes please,” I faked a smile as she refilled my soda.

Then I saw a black car park next to mine. I saw him get out of the car with three other men and one woman. My heart started to race as they walked inside.

Lucas, as Ray had called him, walked straight to my table. He sat beside me and said nothing. Slowly, I watched everyone leave the diner.

Everyone left, including the lady serving the drinks, the large man behind her making the food, and the arguing couple at the end. Everyone left the diner, got in their cars, and drove away, except for one man.

He looked like a sharply dressed lawyer. He slowly stood up, picked up the large pitcher of soda, and brought it to the table. He looked at me as he poured some of it into my glass.

Slowly, he put it down on the counter and sat across from me. I was left alone with five people, no witnesses, and no one to hear me yell or scream.

I reached for my drink, took a sip, and settled in my seat. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Hello,” the man said as he stared at me.

I felt everyone’s eyes upon me.

“First, I would like to say I like punctuality,” the man said as he smiled at me.

I acknowledged him by keeping my smile.

“Second, I have to apologize for your feelings at the moment, and I want to assure you that nothing will happen to you or your dogs if you answer honestly,” he said. You have my word.”

I sat upright.

“Good,” he said as he leaned back. “Did you get the photos?”

“Yes,” I replied.

Short and to-the-point answers would get me further than anything else.

“My partners had nothing to do with what happened, but we did warn him, that it would happen,” the man said.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Good, you are doing excellent so far,” he smiled again. “You can breathe normally.”

I tried to, but everything about the situation was tense.

“Now,” he sat forward. “Your ex-husband took out a considerable loan from us and was unable to pay it back. Do you have any idea where he would hide a large case or bag?”

I looked over at Lucas, and he shook his head at me.

“It’s not in the house,” I said. “He wouldn’t trust me or tell me about it,” I replied.

The man nodded as if he knew I was going to say that. “Anywhere else?”

“He had a storage unit downtown. I believe the unit was Four 0 Five,” I tried to remember. “He moved all his get-rich-schemes into that storage unit after we cleared out the mobile.”

“Do you know the address?” he asked.

“It’s the one next to the laundry mat on fifth,” I said.

One of the men started talking on his cell phone. Lucas and the other man relaxed. “It will take a while,” he said as he stood up. “Want a piece of cake? They aren’t the best, but they are good.”

“No thanks,” I replied.

The wait was agonizing. I felt like it was taking an eternity. The cell phone rang back and was handed to the man before me. I held my breath as he looked at me and said nothing.

“Thank you,” he replied and hung up.

“Good news,” he smiled. “We recovered over half of what he owed; you were correct. For that we are grateful.”

I knew better than to smile or breathe a sigh of relief. “And the other half?”

“You now owe,” he said. My heart dropped. I knew it.

“I can’t, I mean….”

The man held up his hand and shook his head. He nodded at Lucas and the others, and they got up and left the diner to stand outside.

“I hate this part of my job,” he said as he loosened a few buttons on his shirt. “Dealing with their type makes me want to blow my brains out.”

I sat still and looked at him. “You must think the worst right now, and I don’t blame you,” he smiled. “Truth of the matter,” he said, leaning forward, “you have absolutely nothing to fear, and trust me, if you did, I wouldn’t be here.”

I sat still. “If one of us is here, it means that they really can’t hurt you,” he shrugged. “I am highly allergic to violence and don’t get me started on blood,” he shook his head.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“There we go,” he nodded. “Good question.”

“I am what some would call a handler. I handle situations, that are shall we say delicate,” he smiled. “You can call me John.”

“Not your real name,” I grinned.

“Nope,” John said.