Mr. Brooks was also actively engaged in sizing him up as well and finally looked up into the younger man's eyes. He said, I imagine you have already surmised who I am. His voice was not a strong one. In fact he sounded a bit feeble. His voice was not steady and he shifted about nervously. Tyson nodded an affirmative.
He inhaled deeply then added. "Well guess it goes without saying as to why I'm here."
Tyson walked to the sofa and took a seat facing Mr. Brooks, whom had taken the liberty of seating himself across the room in Tysons recliner, the only chair in the apartment that was meant for him alone. He stared deep into the blood shot eyes of Mr. Brooks and soaked him in. He noticed the fatigue that appeared to weigh his shoulders down.
Tyson was monotone as he said. I guess I can give you this much shall we get on with it. He leaned on the door, folded his arms, and crossed his legs as he awaited the confrontation that was to ensue.
Mr. Brooks eyes swept over Tysons young and strudy form as he thought what he would not give to be this young man. Suddenly his expression changed and he looked at him with pleading eyes. Tyson looked away because he could not afford to sympathize with this man, he wanted what was his, what he had first. Mr. Brooks started, I am all alone except for my Zy. She is all that I have. If I were to lose her...my world would crumble. She is everything to me. I must admit that I feel threaten by your presence in her life. I come here today to implore you to bow out.
Tyson started shaking his head no as he gazed at the floor.
Mr. Brooks took a deep breath and sighed, he was beginning to look a little more relaxed, just a bit more confident. He said. “You are young with your whole life ahead of you, there will be many women in you life, but for me...I'm getting on in years, this is the end of the road for me, and there's only Zy.” Mr. Brooks begged desperately.
Tyson continued to shake his head defiantly, sickened by the older man's pleads. Mr. Brooks’ desperation disappeared and was replaced by rage. He raced over to Tyson and grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket. His face was very close to Tyson's. He believed that he could smell medicine on the older man's breath. He could also see the lines that time had etched deep into Mr. Brooks face and wondered just how old he was. Seeming not to be bothered by Mr. Brooks’ actions, he absently asked. “Just how old are you really?”
Mr. Brooks ignored his question and at this point, infuriated returned with a rhetorical question of his own. “CAN'T YOU SEE ALL THAT SHE MEANS TO ME…. I love her madly and will not lose her. I REFUSE TO!!”
Tyson then shoved Mr. Brooks away. He had, had enough of the ranting of the old man, the shouting, and spittle was more than he could stand. Mr. Brooks stumbled backward and clumsily fell to the floor.
Tyson said. “Easy old man, don't get your knickers in a twist and you'll walk out of here in one piece.” His voice remained steady and did not reflect how irritated he actually was.
Mr. Brooks sat up on the floor with his legs spread eagle and pulled a gun from the waist of his pants, as he whimpered, “is that so.”
Tyson remained remarkably clam, his mouth even played a slight smile. He went to the sofa and sat down, where he sat watching Mr. Brooks.
He spoke. “Are you going to do it? You know if you do, you'll be the only man who won't have her, with the exception of me of course.” Tyson looked at his watch then continued, “it’s eight fifteen and do you know where your wife is?”
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