He licked his swollen lips and swallowed down hard through his scorched throat. “Screw you.”
Bad Guy jumped down from the table and took two paces toward Good Guy. He straightened out his fatigues and dug into his pocket. Good Guy's chest tightened. No. Not again.
“What? Like you did my wife?” Bad Guy withdrew his hand from his pocket. With it came an anti-dandruff comb. He brushed the comb through his thinning hair. “Perhaps another time. We have business to attend to.”
“You’re sick.”
“In good health actually. Better shape than you in fact.” He replaced the comb in his pocket and took another pace forward.
“Have you heard of the term ‘Sub Rosa’? asked Bad Guy.
“What?”
“Never were one for history, were you, Good Guy? Pay attention now. Your new life depends on it.”
Good Guy remained silent. He commenced tensing and relaxing his muscles to get the blood flowing.
Bad Guy continued “Sub Rosa is a Latin phrase for under the rose. It originates from a story in which Cupid gave the God of Silence, Harpocroties, a rose to bribe him not to betray the confidence of Venus, Cupid’s Mum. The rose then became the symbol of confidentiality. To this day certain associations all around the world still use the rose as a symbol for secrecy.” Bad Guy paused for effect. “You’re probably wondering why I am giving you a history lesson, hey Good Guy?
His resolve strengthened as the numbness dissipated. “Not really. More along the lines of how I’m going to thrash you when I get out of this.”
Bad Guy chuckled. “We’ll see.”
“Why the hell am I here, Bad Guy? This is crazy. What the hell did you and that crazy bitch wife of yours do to my hand?”
A small vein popped out the side of Bad Guy's left temple. “Patience, Good Guy. I’m getting to that.” He rolled his tongue over his thin lips. “It was only a small nail. You should be thankful that my wife was kind enough to bandage it. Nailing your hand to the table wasn’t personal. On the other hand, p###ing on you was.” Bad Guy's left thumb played at his wedding ring.
Bad Guy jumped down from the table and took two paces toward Good Guy. He straightened out his fatigues and dug into his pocket. Good Guy's chest tightened. No. Not again.
“What? Like you did my wife?” Bad Guy withdrew his hand from his pocket. With it came an anti-dandruff comb. He brushed the comb through his thinning hair. “Perhaps another time. We have business to attend to.”
“You’re sick.”
“In good health actually. Better shape than you in fact.” He replaced the comb in his pocket and took another pace forward.
“Have you heard of the term ‘Sub Rosa’? asked Bad Guy.
“What?”
“Never were one for history, were you, Good Guy? Pay attention now. Your new life depends on it.”
Good Guy remained silent. He commenced tensing and relaxing his muscles to get the blood flowing.
Bad Guy continued “Sub Rosa is a Latin phrase for under the rose. It originates from a story in which Cupid gave the God of Silence, Harpocroties, a rose to bribe him not to betray the confidence of Venus, Cupid’s Mum. The rose then became the symbol of confidentiality. To this day certain associations all around the world still use the rose as a symbol for secrecy.” Bad Guy paused for effect. “You’re probably wondering why I am giving you a history lesson, hey Good Guy?
His resolve strengthened as the numbness dissipated. “Not really. More along the lines of how I’m going to thrash you when I get out of this.”
Bad Guy chuckled. “We’ll see.”
“Why the hell am I here, Bad Guy? This is crazy. What the hell did you and that crazy bitch wife of yours do to my hand?”
A small vein popped out the side of Bad Guy's left temple. “Patience, Good Guy. I’m getting to that.” He rolled his tongue over his thin lips. “It was only a small nail. You should be thankful that my wife was kind enough to bandage it. Nailing your hand to the table wasn’t personal. On the other hand, p###ing on you was.” Bad Guy's left thumb played at his wedding ring.
