Alberta watched the chaos unfold, her smile deepening with every insult hurled my way.
She reached for a bottle of limited-edition Hennessy and poured ten glasses, filling each one to the brim.
"Mike." Her voice was honey laced with venom. "I understand that forty thousand is a lot to ask from a delivery boy."
"For old times' sake—since you did help me once—I'll return the favor."
Alberta placed her stiletto on the stool, then gestured toward the ten glasses of liquor lined up on the table.
"You have two choices."
"One: kneel down, lick my shoe, and admit you're a pathetic fraud."
"Two: down all ten glasses in one go, then slap yourself across the face ten times."
"Pick one and follow through, and I'll cover your forty-thousand-dollar tab. Fair enough?"
Whistles and applause erupted around the room.
They all wanted to watch me crumble—to see me grovel at Alberta's feet like I had four years ago.
I'd intended to let us both walk away with some dignity. But Alberta and these so-called classmates kept pushing, kept prodding.
A kept woman playing socialite, and she thought she could look down on me?
Fine. If words wouldn't get through, I'd flip the whole damn table.