Dangerous Minds | john wick

Chapter Twenty-Two: Get A Grip

Mindlessly, I tap my fingers along the centre console to the rhythm of the current song. The deep strum of the acoustic guitar is the perfect background music as we drive through a small and weathered town.

My leg slightly twitches as the foregoing thought of a bathroom break re-enters my conscience.

"How much longer?".

John swiftly reverts his eyes from the road and looks down at his watch.

"About an hour and a half". His reply is short as he focuses back on the narrow road.

I let out a huff as I try to ignore my incredibly full bladder. In my peripheral I see John reach out his hand and turn down the music.

"Why?".

I bring my hand up to hide my slight blush. "I really don't want to be a pain but I am in desperate need of a bathroom."

I keep my eyes on my legs as I wait for his response.

"I think there's a cafe on the corner over there. I'm sure they'll have a bathroom." I glance up and squint my eyes as I look down the road, immediately spotting the cafe he's talking about.

"You'll need to be quick. Keep your head down and don't talk to anybody unless asking where the bathroom is. Understood?"

I nod my head as he pulls the car over. Grabbing the door handle I slide out of the tall vehicle, landing on the cobble side walk.

The street is quiet besides the distant sound of grazing cows. Although completely bare, it's clear that this is the town centre.

As I walk closer to the small cafe, I'm able to make out other details of the area. Each shopfront has a little bit of character to it, making the square feel welcoming. It's a shame places like these go so unnoticed. The architectural details of the old buildings have not had the appreciation they deserve.

Narrowly avoiding a table, I clumsily step through the door of the cafe and run straight into a waiter.

"Lo siento mucho!". The waiter gently grabs my shoulders and steadies me before I can cause any further ruckus.

The stocky man around the same height as me gives me a beaming smile. "¡bienvenidos! ¿cómo puedo ayudarte hoy?".

Still embarrassed by my ignorant entrance, I stutter with my words. "Uh, no hablo español".

Drawing from my few lessons off Spanish in primary school, I pray that that's the correct term.

"Ah! si." The man gives me a light pat on the shoulder before dropping his hands.

"How may I be off service today?". His thick accent is filled with warmth as he moves to pick up a tray from a neighbouring table.

"I'm sorry to be that person but I was just wondering if you have a toilet I could please use?".

The man- or Julián as his name tag reads - responds to my question with another warm smile.

"Walk to the back and turn left. It is the first door on the right."

I give him a thankful look as I scurry to the back, passing a few occupied tables.

Being as quick as possible, with Johns warning repeating in my head, I flush the toilet and wash my hands. The momentary relief quickly escapes me as the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and a muffled thump comes from outside the door.

Hurriedly, I turn the tap off and walk as quietly as possible to the door. I try to calm myself as I slowly push open the saloon style door, its hinges protesting at the tiny movements.