Yvonne’s mind raced with her scheme, and she repeatedly urged Silvia to call Julius, needing to make her drunken state appear as convincing as possible.
“What's the rush? I'll call him as soon as we're in the car,” Silvia said, guiding Yvonne toward their parking spot.
“You’re a grown woman, but I still have to worry about you all the time,” Silvia grumbled under her breath.
Just then, a group of thugs emerged from a dark corner.
The leader was a man with bleached-blond hair and a large tiger tattoo on his arm. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he swaggered toward Yvonne and her mother with a lecherous grin.
“Well, well, ladies. Where are you two off to so late at night?” the blond whistled, his eyes roaming over both of them.
When he got a clear look at Silvia’s heavily made-up face, the disgust in his eyes was impossible to hide.
“Hey, old lady, what are you doing out at this hour? You’re going to scare someone looking like that,” he sneered, then turned his attention back to Yvonne. “Don’t get in the way of our fun with the pretty one.”
Silvia’s expression hardened. As an old pro from the club scene, she had seen her share of men and wasn't about to be intimidated by some petty street punk.
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Get lost! A pathetic creep like you thinks you have a chance with us? Go find a puddle and take a good look at your own ugly face!”
The blond hadn't expected the older woman to have such a sharp tongue. His smirk vanished, replaced by a furious scowl.
“You old hag, you dare talk to me like that? I’ll teach you some respect!”
With that, he swung his fist at Silvia.
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