Phone Calls and Policemen

Elena swallowed. She was tempted to pick up the gun.

Even though her main enemy was dying and his bodyguards were temporarily distracted, she knew that they would finish the job if she tried to run. But with the gun, at least she had a chance of protecting herself from the bodyguards.

However, picking up the gun meant that all hopes of a peaceful resolution was over. She'd no longer be ignored and seen as a harmless victim of their boss. She'd become a threat. Then, she would have to face all twenty bodyguards who all had guns and professional training.

If she chose to take the gun, she would have no choice but to use it.

Elena felt torn. Should she pick up the gun or not?

"An enemy has been slain!"

Deep inside, a spiteful and malicious part of her wanted her to take the gun and shoot off his balls in revenge. Meanwhile, the pragmatic part wanted her to injure him, in hopes that the bodyguards would be too focused on stopping the bleeding to worry about her escape.

But mostly, she was scared. She didn't want to face off against twenty trained bodyguards. She didn't want to shoot anyone. But at the same time, she wanted to protect herself; she didn't want to die.

Elena wiped away her tears in a crude movement. Her heart raced as she thought of various plans to get out of here alive.

She didn't know how to use a gun, while they did and had twenty times the number of guns she did. She didn't know how to fight, while they were probably professional trained. She could shoot their boss to distract them, but there were twenty of them. They could allocate ten to chase her down and kill her, while the other ten administered aid.

Conclusion: she would lose if it was a fight between them and her.

So, she won't make it one.

Elena took a deep breath. It would be a gamble, reliant on the fact that assumption that he wasn't a cold-blooded killer who knew no gratitude. But if it went well, she would turn her enemy into an ally.

Elena clenched her fists and gathered her courage. "E—excuse me," she said in English.

Her voice shook despite her attempts to hide her fear. "I can save him."

Some of them turned around to stare at her in suspicion.

"I learnt first aid when I was ten — no, eleven years old. I was in the red cross, so I can do the heimlich maneuver. You can trust me, I— I— I won't kill him, I promise! I will save him," she babbled, the latter half of her speech trailing off into Chinese.

"How can we trust you?" one man said in Chinese. He was bald and had narrow eyes.

Elena paled. "I— I—"

"Let her try," someone else cut in, his tone full of anxiety. "His face is already turning blue!"

"What if she kills him?"

"If we don't try to save him, he'll be dead in a minute!"

"Come here!" the bald man said in Chinese. "Be quicker!"

Elena stumbled to his side. He was gasping like a fish out of water and saliva was dripping down his mouth. His right hand was still around his throat, while the other was in his mouth.

'Disgusting,' she thought. She took a deep breath and tried to lift him up, only to stagger.

'Fuck, he's heavy!'

He was nearly a head taller than her and made of muscle which was a lot heavier than fats.

Seeing her struggle, the bald bodyguard quickly came forward and helped her to lift him.

"Thank you," Elena said quickly, as if afraid he would kill her if she said it a moment too late. She positioned herself behind the choking man and wrapped her arms around his abdomen. Her hand touched his rock-hard muscles. Elena scowled.

Then, she made a fist and grasped it with her other hand. "Three, two, one!" she chanted and pressed her first upwards against his abdomen.

"Three, two, one!"

"Three, two, one!"

Finally, after eight upwards thrusts, the piece of candy was dislodged from his throat. He spat it out immediately. Then, he pushed her away and knelt on the floor, gasping and breathing heavily.

Elena stumbled back until her thigh hit the table where she had previously leaned on. She hissed in pain.

While trying to stabilize herself, she stepped on something. Elena looked down. It was her phone. She hastily picked it up and quit the King of Glory application.

After a minute of heavy breathing, the man stood up unsteadily. A bodyguard came forward to help him up but he slapped away the hand.

"You—" the man began. His eyes were still wide in fear but now contained disbelief. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

Elena didn't want to do this, but it was basic human decency. So she asked in English, "Are y—you okay?"

The man seemed to have recalled something and looked away from her in embarrassment. "Yes." He grimaced and smoothed down the wrinkles of his blazer.

He tried to act composed as if nothing had happened, but his face twisted in disgust and reddened in shame when he touched a wet spot on his shirt. It was his saliva.

Despite the tense atmosphere, laughter bubbled up inside her. Elena coughed to hide it.

The man, however, was not deceived. His ears turned pink and he scowled.

He made a gesture and his bodyguards gathered around him. One of them picked up the fallen gun and handed it to the man.

Elena tensed. Was he going to kill her after all? Or was this just a power play, to intimidate her and regain what little dignity he had left?

"You — As thanks for saving me, I'll give you a chance to live," he said in fluent Chinese. His voice was deep but hoarse from his recent choking. "If your franchise makes my company 150, 000 euros in sales within three months of its opening, I'll let you off."

"Prove that you're useful enough for me to spare you, Elena Zhao. I hope you won't disappoint me."

"Um," Elena started. "Okay." What else could she say? No? Tell him to learn some fucking gratitude?

The man nodded curtly. "Let's go."

The restaurant's doorbell jingled as a bodyguard opened the door for him. Then, he left with his platoon of black bodyguards all streaming out of the restaurant.

A moment later, it was quiet in the restaurant once more. Elena stood there alone. She took a deep breath and relaxed the tension in her body. She had made it out alive.

They were gone and she was alive.

His bitchy demands could be dealt with another day. For now, she enjoyed the cold breeze of the air conditioner, the delicious greasy smell of fried chicken in her restaurant, the sensation of just existing.

Elena laughed in relief.

Outside the restaurant, the street bustled with pedestrians. Some of them were taking pictures of the limousine that had driven up to the road, which a man and twenty other men were entering. Others were passing by and chatting with friends.

Meanwhile, the annoying, ever-present pigeons made clucking sounds. And from the near distance, came the sound of police sirens….

Elena groaned. Time to clean up the mess that guy had made.

She glanced around the restaurant. The tables and chairs were nailed to the ground, so they were fine. The problem was the food. There were leftovers everywhere; on the ground, the tables, and the chairs. They had fallen when the customers had rushed out of the restaurant in fear. Furthermore, there was still that saliva-coated candy on the ground.

Her staff had probably left with the customers. So, she was the only one who could do the work.

"Ugh." Elena wrinkled her nose. She turned around the store sign from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' and picked up a dustpan and a broom. Then, she started sweeping the floor.

While sweeping, she thought about what to tell the police. Admit that he had planned on killing her? She scoffed.

He'd kill her for real if she did that. If this was before, she'd have done it in a heartbeat because she believed that her luck would protect her from any retaliation. But now, she knew that her luck could be unreliable.

Since she couldn't tell the truth, what lie could she tell?

Elena sighed. She'll just say that he was pranking her. The police would be sceptical, but she was the main witness. No bullets had been shot, and she had no physical injuries. Meaning, there was no evidence that he had done any crime, besides being a public nuisance.

Her lips twisted in displeasure. It pained her to let that arrogant bastard off scot-free, but what choice did she have? Even if she successfully charged him in a court of law — and she doubted it would happen, if Italy's officials were as corrupt as her homeland's — he would simply go to jail. And if he could attempt murder in broad daylight, he could kill her while in jail.

Maybe the stocks of his daddy's company would fall, but so what? They could recover their losses, but she couldn't recover her life.

While contemplating about her next action, Elena had swept until she reached the candy. She didn't want it to stick to the bristles of her broom, so she took a thick stack of tissues from the napkin dispenser and picked it up. Then, she dropped it in the bin, all the while carrying it as far away from her as possible. After that, she continued to clean.

By the time the police arrived, she was done sweeping the floor and had moved on to clearing the leftover pieces of chicken and spilt drinks on the tables and chairs.

The doorbell tinkled as two men, one old and one young, entered the restaurant.

"Hello Ms Zhao, we would like to ask you a few questions," said the old policeman in English as he glanced around the crime scene. He had a gruff voice and sparse gray hair on his head. Despite his old age, the muscles on his calves were well defined and protruded out, which spoke that he was a frequent runner.

The other man looked to be in his early twenties. He was slightly flabby and had pale skin and black hair.

"Okay," Elena replied. She stopped cleaning and carefully placed the magazine — which she was using to sweep the food from the table to the bin — back on the table. She knew that the police wouldn't hurt her, but somehow, she instinctively felt afraid to face them.

"Were you held at gunpoint around fifteen minutes ago?" the old policeman asked with an intimidating air.

'This guy is good,' Elena thought with apprehension.

If she answered no, it would be perjury. There were videos recorded by pedestrians of what had happened inside. But if she answered yes, it provided the police officer with an opening to pressure her and extract evidence from her. Either way, she had no choice but to say yes.

"Yes, he did hold me at gunpoint, but—"

"So the man threatened you with his gun?"

"No, he di—"

"Holding someone at gunpoint is a crime, dear," the old man said and softened his tone. "If you're being blackmailed or threatened, you need to tell the police so we can help you."

"I'm not being threatened," Elena said, hoping that he didn't hear her heart beating faster as she lied. "Or blackmailed."

"He's my friend. I did something to annoy him last week so he came here to prank me. He's a bit too — how do you say guòfèn in English — erm, he's a bit too much? But he's my friend," she finished.

"I see. Can you tell us his name and contact number? We'd like to ask your friend a few questions. And warn him about his 'pranks'," the old police officer said with a genial smile.

'Fuck.'

Elena nearly clenched her fist in anxiety, but she relaxed it. 'I can't give any tells,' Elena thought, while desperate trying to remember the guy's name. One of the bodyguards had shouted it — what was it?

'Loviso? Lorenzo? Lavenzo? Lavanzo? La… Lavazza!'

But that was his surname, not his first name. And she still didn't know his phone number.

An awkward silence permeated the air. The back of her neck started sweating. She felt like she was fifteen again, standing in class and unable to answer the teacher's questions as her classmates stared with apathetic eyes.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

"You've got a friend in me.

You've got a friend in me.

You've got troubles, and I've got 'em, too."

Judging by the ringtone, it was her friend Jiang Feifei.

"Sorry, I need to pick up this call," Elena said quickly and took out her phone. "Hello?"

"ELENA! I did it! I got into Tsinghua U!" Jiang Feifei said in Chinese. There was a stomping sound coming from the background.

Elena laughed fondly. Feifei was probably jumping in excitement again. She always did that when something good happened to them.

"Are you sure the acceptance letter is yours?" she teased.

"Of course!" Jiang Feifei said. Elena could already imagine her pouting. "I checked it five times!"

"I know, I know." Elena giggled. As she laughed, the tension in her body relaxed. "Congratulations! Feifei, I'm truly so happy for you!"

"Alright, my mom's calling me to do the dishes. Let's talk later! Bye bye!"

"Can't we talk a little lon—" Elena said, but was cut off by the phone's beeping. Feifei had hung up.

The temporary reprieve granted by her call had ended. The policemen were staring at her, waiting for her to answer their question. Problem was, she didn't have his contact number or his full name.

Her eyes darted around the room, praying for a clue. Maybe he dropped his business card somewhere?

"Miss Zhao—" the elderly policeman started.

"If you had not suddenly entered my life,

Why would have surrendered the solitude that I clung onto?

Words of love you have all said,

Acts of love you have not done,

Yet I believed your sweet talk and made it the facade of your love..."

Her phone had rung again.

The old police officer raised an eyebrow. Elena pretended to look embarrassed but inside, she was jumping for joy. 'What great timing,' she thought.

"Sorry," she said and picked up her phone. The ringtone was her favourite song and had been her default for unknown numbers so she wondered who it could be. A telemarketer?

"Hello?"

"Elena," said a familiar hoarse voice.