TWENTY-FIVE
Vladimir was not happy. He’d remained quiet so far, but the memory churned away inside and the more he kept it hidden, the worse things became. The man, the stranger, the one who had spoken to him, nobody spoke to him like that. Certainly not some arrogant s**t, past his sell-by. He should have done something, a lesson on manners given. Annoyed at himself for not slapping the stranger for his disrespect, the man’s arrogance galled Vladimir the most, such contempt taking him by surprise.
Now, mulling it over, he sat at the table drumming his fingers, frustration and anger mounting. He decided to take everything out on Chris Lomax.
Being a bully never presented Vladimir with any great moral dilemma. For him, to beat somebody senseless simply because they were weak, or because
