After finishing his cigar, Jeje opened a drawer in the desk. There was a .45 facing him. He reached for it with his hand, grabbed it, put it in his gun holder, then put on his coat.
He got outside. There was his car parked—a new black Bentley T1 with tinted windows.
"Fuck, where is this fucker?"
Suddenly, from his left: "Mister Jeje, here you are." an 18- or 19-year-old appeared, jeje with a moderate pass turned to him, the kid continued to advance until he arrived directly in front of him. "I just and had a cup of coffee."
Directly after he finished his sentence, Jeje grabbed him by his thick coat aggressively, slammed him into the car body, and gave him a punch to his stomach that made him fall to his knees.
Jeje once again grabbed him by his coat, got him up, and—with an aggressive tone and a high voice—shouted:
"YOU HAVE ONLY ONE FUCKING JOB!!! DO IT THE RIGHT WAY!"
His face was directly facing Jeje's, the kid face shook in fear, trying to get his face away to avoid the angry energy as much as he could.
Meanwhile, the passengers that passed by acted like they didn't see anything—like nothing happened.
He let go of the kid's coat.
"Drive me to my house. Leave the car in the garage. You're free until I call."
His tone went back to normal, and his face returned to its natural state.
The kid silently opened the back door, went to the driver's seat, then proceeded to drive.