I had my eye on Frankie as I backed away, hoping he didn’t notice my short static movements. Everything was going well until my arm ran straight into one of the small circular tables scattered about the restaurant. The wobbly legs shook and the napkin holder rattled, alerting Frankie and his helpers to my poorly thought-out escape.
I turned, ready to make a run for it, and prayed to God the door on the other side wasn’t locked, but I made it less than two feet before the largest of the two men who had been with Frankie stepped into my walkway. What was it with criminals always having huge ass linebackers for protection? Did they have a club somewhere? A joint hiring pool. This particular man had never been more than ten feet away from Frankie since I first met him, and in that moment, he crossed his arms and stepped in my way. I knew without a doubt he’d be no help if I tried to get around him.