Rich Solutions

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After school, you headed to the record shop as normal.

Business was booming. Multiple customers came in and shopped around. The amount of sales you made actually brought tears to your eyes. Your grandfather would have been so proud.

As the day drew to an end, you began to pack up shop. Your mother had to leave a few minutes early, so you were left all alone.

As the clock struck 11, the bell above the door rang out, echoing across the open space.

"Sorry, we're closed-"

But your words drifted off when you caught sight of the figure looming in the shadows.

"So, this is where you work."

Sid walked into the light, his lingering eyes wandering across the walls in disgust. He ran a finger along a table, collecting dust and examining it.

"What a dump." He grumbled.

You bit your tongue. Stay balanced.

"Sir," you cleared your throat, "we're closed."

He scoffed. "You should be closed down for good."

You sensed the anger beginning to rise up in you. "You need to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until you tell me about John's whereabouts."

"He's not here."

"I know that, doll face," he grimaced, "but I know he's been staying with you. So he should be showing up to your house right about now, correct?"

You shook your head steadily, not wavering. "I told you. I don't know where he is."

"But you're avoiding the facts." He took a resounding step closer, "and the facts are that you know where he's going to be within the next hour or so."

Shrugging, you challenged him. "So what if I do?"

"Then you're going to give me the address."

"Not in a million years."

"Oh come on," he smirked, "I know you want him out of your hair."

"I can say the same for you."

He waved a finger at you, his smile only growing. "You're fiery. I like that."

This singular comment reminded you too much of what John Kreese had said to you, and you finally snapped.

"Get out." You whistled through gritted teeth.

"Believe me, I would love to. But I'm not leaving until you tell me where my son is."

"Don't try to play dad now, you're a pathetic loser." You grimaced.

"You want to talk about losers? Alright, let's talk about losers." He yelled, "look at you. Look at this place, this dump. This record shop should've died along with Georgie."

"Don't talk about my family like that!"

"Then don't talk to mine!"

"Johnny is not your family," you shouted, "family doesn't treat family like garbage."

"Oh please," he growled, "the kid is a social reject. He deserves it."

"He doesn't deserve anything from you. Now get out of my store."

He held his hands up in surrender, turning for the door. You held your breath as you went, praying he wouldn't turn around.

"And one more thing."

Great.

He turned to look at you in the eye.

"Try cleaning this place up for me, will ya?"

You scrunched your face up in amusement.

"What?" You hissed.

"You heard me," he boomed, "I want it to look nice when I rip it from your cold, dead hands."

He slammed the door shut behind him, but you were quick to follow. You leapt, sliding over the counter top before sprinting for the door. You swung the door open wide on it's hinges.

"Hey!" You called after him, "what did you say to me?"

He had just opened his car door as you chased him down. Rolling his eyes, he turned to face you like it was obvious.

"To put it in terms you'll understand, I'm buying this place from under you."

Your eyes widened.

Your mother's hard work, your grandfather's legacy. It would all go down the drain.

But not without a fight.

"I won't let you do that."

"It's too late," he chuckled, "do you really think the bank is going to look at your family's savings and continue your lease? Look at this place! It started declining long before Georgie died. You and your mother don't stand a chance against me."

"What do you even want with this place?"

"Nothing," he chuckled, "I just want you out."

Before you could stop yourself, you stomped forward proudly. "Go ahead and try."

"Oh sweetheart, I won't have to try. The bank knows how wealthy I am. When they see my offer, you're dead meat."

"Screw you!"

What happened next, seemed to go in slow motion. Sid didn't appreciate your comment, and decided to take action into his own hands. He raised his arm from his side quickly, almost at lightning speed. But you saw this foolish move before he could even go through with it.

It was just as Mr. Miyagi said: the fight would come to you.

Moving your hand upward sharply, you painted the fence. You were faster than a bullet as you then grabbed his arm, and pulled it behind his back. You didn't bother being gentle as you slammed him onto the hood of his car. While holding his arm down with on hand, you used the other to hold down the collar of his shirt, pushing him further into the car. He squirmed in your grip, panting.

You leaned in close to his ear, threatening him through a smile. "Try and lay a finger on me one more time, and I'll cut them off myself."

He coughed and sputtered, trying to maneuver out of your hold. "You're crazy!"

You shoved him away, standing to your full height. "You're lucky I'm showing mercy."

As he stood, he turned to you and shook his head.

"You know, you're starting to sound just like him."

"I guess that's what happens when you have to stick up for yourself. I can't imagine what you put your step son through everyday."

He laughed then, a deep and riveting laugh. "I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about your uncle."

Your blood ran cold.

"How did you know about that?"

"I know a lot of things." He raised an eyebrow, "I know everything there is to know about everyone. Including your family history. And it would be such a shame if my son found out about this, wouldn't it?"

With this threat looming over your head, you panicked. "Don't you dare say a word."

"I can't keep any promises... unless you promise me something."

You shut your eyes tight and sighed. Of course there was a catch, there was always a catch. But you knew how much potential danger you or Johnny could be in if he ever found out the truth.

"And what is that?"

"Stay away from my son."

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