I keep running this over in my mind, all with different mindsets. They all lead me to the same conclusion, so instead of me talking about it for an eternity, I’d like to write about what I saw instead.
I walk into the cafe, head high, greeting damn near everyone I know. I want people to know I’m here in case things turn for the worse. It also serves to see if he has any allies present and see if he’s already arrived. He hasn’t. My two brothers and some other people I trust are there as well, looking as inconspicuous as they can muster. I find the notion amusing. He’s clearly going to notice that things are amiss, I think as I put down my bag and take a seat where I have a good view of the stairway. He’s not one to break habit, so watching his usual pathways proves effective: My quarry, he appears uncertain, uneasy, as he makes his way into the building. I deliberately put my back to the door so as to appear uninterested. There is a woman sitting across from me; I’d forgotten his sister is here in the mornings. It explains why she stared at me as I greeted everyone. He goes to talk to her, and I notice that he doesn’t keep my gaze for long. I can’t hold back an arrogant smile and my anger flares up again. This sudden influx of adrenaline causes my hands to shake and the anticipation of putting this sucker in his place is all too palpable. I get the urge to confront him over there, in front of his family, but as he had tried to take control over these negotiations before, I decided it best to withhold my excitement for now. Besides, he’d only have an even bigger reason to fervently deny the truth in front of his family. So, I wait. And an awful wait it is, smirking all the while, but that’s rather in keeping with my character.
Not more than five excruciating minutes later he sits across from me and busies himself with unpacking his backpack. He, of course, asks the typical “how are you” type of questions and I reply curtly. I recall something about him saying like, “So, let’s get down to business” and trying to take control again. I laugh him off and assess the situation. He appears very distracted and still cannot maintain eye contact, though he likely is trying to appear nonchalant and efficient, rather than ungainly.
I open with, “So, tell me about this blowjob I gave you?” Loudly. Peripherally, I notice a group of males glance over.
He feigns ignorance, appearing more angry than confused, but I admit it’s a decent feint. “What?!” My quarry removes the small pouch for his laptop and sets it on the table; fumbles with the string.
“You know, back three weeks ago?” I finish the tale given to me by some associates. “The whole thing that never happened? Mind telling me about that.” It’s not a question.
Here’s where it starts to get a little fuzzy. The adrenaline at this point is unbearable. He either says “Who told you that?” or “Where did you hear that?” But he’s visibly shaken now. Trying to maintain composure, he continues to remove that lousy excuse for a computer from the satchel. The poor sod, of course, expected me to keep my word not to make a scene. I expected him to respect my relationship with my fiance. And I hear all’s fair in love and war; this is certainly the latter. He didn’t try to make sense of it, he doesn’t look hurt. He still looks angry. He seems to be forcing himself to believe in his own charade.
I laugh. “Really?” That’s how you’re going to play this? Haven’t you got anything better?
“Really, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He declines to claim that he didn’t say that. Throughout the ordeal, not once does he say that he didn’t say that. He doesn’t claim it’s a lie. He doesn’t refute it in the least.
I’m laughing quite hysterically at this point when two fellows creep up from behind and stand at the end of the table. I make a face and one is bright enough to step aside. To the other, I say, “I’d be accepting tickets, but I’m afraid I haven’t any change. Can I help you?” He leaves.
I honestly don’t recall how the rest goes. I mention something about being careful about what rumors you spread around and he latches on to that like a tick, “See, there you go! You even admit it’s a rumor!” This I recall verbatim. He continues to use ad hominem attacks in an effort to discredit me after I say he’s been a pain to work with for the past month. “You’re one to talk, you’re always being a smartass!”
Still laughing, I reply that yes, I am a smartass and I’m fully aware of my own personality. He goes on to say that I’ve been the bitchy one all this while, which I accept as my own, snickering all the way. Some other minute details pass, but they didn’t mean much to me or I’d have remembered them, eh? One mistake that I should have kept to myself is that I did tell him to have a chat with one of his friends, the informant who told a friend of mine this rumor earlier. He replies with, “You’re really gonna believe _____ over me?”
I finish with something like, “I could have reconciled with you before I’d heard about this. Now there’s no chance for that. Am I clear?”
He didn’t quite seem to get it, but appeared eager to be done with this conversation. As was I. Nothing truly seemed to get through to him, but he picked up his stuff and whined to his sister all the same. In an effort to gain credibility, I assume, he takes a position at another table as friends swarm towards me and ask what that was all about. Noone seemed to ask the victim, so I’m fairly pleased with how this turned out. I notify my informant an hour later, apologizing for blowing his cover. He tells me that the victim texted him right after our fight and gives me the information I have provided in another note, which instructs my spy to convince me it was all a joke. It didn’t ask why he sent that message. It tells him to deny it to me.
The strangest thing is that this entire event happened Monday. It feels so long ago!
We’ll see if I made a lasting impression later on today. If he shows up, well I’ve friends who’ll stand by me to ensure nothing happens. It shouldn’t come to that, but I’m carrying my Swiss Army anyhow, and not to cut with. The device has enough weight to it that a hammer-strike should be effective, but I’ll have to check when I wake up in the moring. If nothing else, that corkscrew is simple to extend. I really don’t want anyone to get hurt, though. It won’t happen immediately, if there’s any retaliation, I know. He’s not quite assertive enough for that, but I’m going to have to be prepared for anything. Two days could have been enough for him to actually grow a pair.