“What the hell is your problem?” Sam’s face was beet red. A cliche yes, but close to accurate. Probably only a shade lighter than the blood seeping out of the top of his hand.
“I told you I would cut you.” Jenny said softly, her eyes dead.
Sam faltered, but his rising anger did not. “Bitch! I should come ’round there and smack the shit out of you.”
“I would LOVE to see you try.” Jenny said, knife raised in her hand.
The smarmy manager walked up, “Is there a problem?”
“She cut me!”
“He put his hand on my side of the window.”
The manager looked for a long moment at Jenny.
Well, it had been a good job while it lasted.