“You bring this to me,” he said. “Why?”
“They say Papa Ortell’s network is the best.”
“Papa Ortell is an old fat man who wants to be alone with his croissant and coffee,” he spat. “Not to be bothered by… supplicants.” It was an insult.
“Jezka’s been gone a week,” I said. “Jezka owes me money. So Jezka owes you money.”
He laughed, a short, brutal sound with no mirth. “Jezka pays to find Jezka, eh? Clever. Now go away.” He waved a hand. And his eyes glowed, ice blue.
I felt bad for the kid. But not much.
Word Count: 99
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog hop hosted by Rochelle. She posts a photo prompt then challenges readers to write a 100 word story inspired by the prompt. It’s a fun challenge. Give it a try! Check here for the info then write your story and post it, link up and enjoy the other stories!