Attorney? Derek let the word sit in the air like something he found amusing. You know what's funny about that? Attorneys take time. They file things.
There are motions and hearings and delays. We're not interested in delays. He glanced around the shop slowly. Not at the art, at the equipment, at the chairs, at the things that could be damaged. We're interested in resolution.
The young woman in the corner, Kayla, made a small sound. Derek's eyes moved to her, then back to Emma. Nice shop, he said. The threat was not subtle. It wasn't meant to be.
Emma held his gaze, did not move. " What you're doing right now is extortion. You know that." I know that's a word people use when they're nervous, Derek said pleasantly. He took one step closer to the counter.
I prefer to think of it as a conversation. This is not a conversation, Emma said. A conversation is when both people want to be there. You want to leave. Derek's expression shifted just slightly.
The boredom gave way to something colder. He reached across the counter, not grabbing her, not yet just invading the space, making sure she understood how small the distance was between his restraint and what came next. And he picked up the portfolio sitting beside the register and dropped it deliberately on the floor. Papers scattered across the linoleum. Teresa gasped.
Kayla pressed herself back in the chair. William Walker put down his magazine. You're going to want to reconsider your tone, Derek said quietly. People who talk to us the way you just talked to us tend to find their situations get complicated. Inspections, violations, breakins, pipes burst in the night.
He shrugged. Phoenix is a rough city. Emma looked down at her scattered portfolio, the photographs inside it, years of her work, her father's old flash sheets that she kept folded between the pages because she couldn't bring herself to frame them yet. She looked at them for a moment. Then she looked back at Derek. "
I want you to understand something," she said. " I'm not afraid of you." " Everybody says that," Derek said. " Not everybody means it," Emma said. From the corners, William Walker stood up.
He did it slowly, the way men his age sometimes stand when their joints complain, but there was nothing uncertain about the movement. When he was upright, he was a solid 6 feet. And the way he held himself had nothing to do with aggression and everything to do with the particular stillness that comes from having faced worse and not flinched. I think, William said calmly, it's time for you gentlemen to go. Derek looked at him for a moment.
He processed the old man, the gray at his temples, the age in his face, and then he laughed short and dismissive. " Sir, I'd really recommend you sit back down." " I'd really recommend you pick up those papers," William said. The thick-necked man behind Derek shifted his weight. The younger one's jaw tightened.
Derek studied William for a moment, then he turned back to Emma. " I'm going to leave you a number," he said. " You're going to call it by Friday. And when you call it, you're going to be ready to talk about what you owe. He reached into his pocket and placed a business card on the counter, slow and deliberate, like he was planting a flag. "
If you don't call, the next conversation we have will be different." " There won't be a next conversation," Emma said. Derek held her eyes for three full seconds. Then he turned and walked out. His two men followed.
The bell above the door rang. The shop was silent. Kayla had both hands pressed flat against her knees and was breathing in small, careful bursts. Teresa had twisted in the chair to look at the door, the wildflower outline half finished on her shoulder. William stood exactly where he'd stood, watching the window until the shapes outside moved away.
Emma walked to the door and turned the deadbolt. She walked back to her counter. She picked up the portfolio off the floor, page by page, steady-handed, taking her time. When she found her father's flash sheets, she smoothed them carefully and set them aside. Then she sat down on the stool behind her workstation and pressed both palms flat against her thighs and took a breath. "
Emma," William's voice was careful. " Are you all right?" " I'm fine," she said. " That's the second time you've said something that wasn't entirely true today." She looked at him.
Despite everything, the corner of her mouth moved. " I'm going to be fine," she corrected. " Better." William crossed the room and sat down in the chair closest to her. He spoke quietly, low enough that Kayla couldn't hear clearly from across the room.
Do you know who those men work for? Pinnacle Financial Recovery, Emma said. They're a debt collection operation, illegal debt collection. They bought a portfolio of debts from a payday loan company about 1eight months ago, and they've been pressuring people to pay amounts that were already discharged. A woman who used to work for them, Angela Reyes, she came to me because she needed a cover-up tattoo.
And we started talking. She told me what was happening. I helped her connect with a legal aid organization. They filed a complaint. William was quiet for a moment and now they know it was you who helped her.
Apparently, Emma, he paused, chose his next words. These aren't people who stop at conversation. I know, she said. Then you know what you need to do. Emma looked at him for a long moment.