Trash Son-in-law is the Almighty Marshal

CHAPTER 2

Marcus froze, and for a moment, he wondered if he had heard Gerard correctly.

"What?" He blurted. "Lick your car?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “You heard me. Or are you so dumb that you can’t understand simple English?”

Marcus looked toward the Bentley, then back at Gerard. “There's no way,” he shook his head. “I…I can't do that."

“It’s not a matter of if you can or not,” Gerard snapped. “You either do it or I’ll have you dragged out in handcuffs with one phone call.”

Marcus checked his watch and his stomach tightened. He had already run out of time.

His eyes darted around as though searching for someone in the crowd who could save him.

Gerard tilted his head as he noticed this, and then a knowing smile appeared on his lips. “No one is going to save you.”

“Or…” he paused and turned to the onlookers. “Would anyone like to take his side?”

“Of course not!” Someone responded immediately. “We are all on your side, sir! Teach that rat a lesson!”

“Yeah!” The others agreed in unison.

Gerard smiled in satisfaction and turned back to Marcus. “Now, will you do as I said or not? My patience is running out”

Marcus’s shoulder slumped. There was no way he was winning this. Katie’s launch had probably started by now, and If he kept standing there arguing with this man, he would only make things worse.

Shame covered him like a cloak as he lowered himself to his knees on the pavement.

Gerard folded his arms as he watched Marcus crawl with a satisfied smile. "That's it," he muttered. “That’s where you belong.”

Marcus's jaw clenched, but he remained quiet. He raised his palm and licked it, then dragged the wet patch across the car.

"Hey!" Gerard snapped. "I said to lick it, not wipe it with your hand!."

"Please…just let me do it this way," Marcus pleaded.

Gerard studied him with narrowed eyes, then dismissively waved a hand. "Fine, but it must be spotless. I want to see my handsome reflection when I look at it.”

Marcus nodded and continued without a word.

Feeling satisfied, Gerard glanced around and snapped his fingers. "Somebody get me a chair. And a coffee. I'm not standing around watching this on my feet."

A man near the front practically tripped over himself to help. He came back about five minutes later with a folding chair and a paper cup of coffee.

He set the chair down and stood next to it. “Sir, please have your seat.”

Gerard strode toward the chair and took a seat like he was royalty.

"Here you go, sir," the man extended the coffee to him, almost bowing.

Gerard took the coffee without a word of thanks. Then he crossed one leg over the other and took a slow sip while his eyes remained fixed on Marcus.

"Aah." He let out a satisfied sigh as he gulped down the steaming liquid. "Much better."

"Can’t believe that brother is cleaning that car with his saliva," A passerby shook his head after a while. "Best thing I've seen all year."

"I have to get this on video!” Another person announced as he held up his phone and zoomed into Marcus’s face with his fingers. "This is going viral, I swear."

"Tag me when you post it," someone else called out.

Marcus heard the camera shutters and the mocking voices around him, but he kept going.

"Look at his face," a woman giggled, pointing at him. "He looks like he wants to die."

"Wouldn't you? I know I would,” her friend answered, and they both burst into laughter, high-fiving each other.

For the next several minutes, Marcus continued cleaning the Bentley. Whenever his hand dried, he repeated the humiliating process of spitting on it before wiping another section of the car.

At this point, his shirt was soaked with sweat, and his palm had become raw from all the rubbing.

Gerard continued sipping his coffee and scrolling through his phone. But suddenly, he kept the coffee and phone aside, and clapped his hands to get Marcus’s attention.

"Alright loser, you need to hurry it up. I haven’t got all day!”

Marcus gritted his teeth and continued cleaning.

“Hey, delivery boy!” someone from the crowd called out. “You missed a spot near the wheel!”

Another person laughed. “Maybe he needs glasses!”

“Forget glasses. He needs a brain!”

Their laughter grew louder, but Marcus was too exhausted to care.

A few minutes later, he was finally finished and the Bentley shone under the sun. His knees were stiff and his back ached, so he sat on the ground a few meters away from the car and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“I’m…I’m done,” he croaked out as all the saliva had dried up from his mouth.

Gerard stood up and made his way toward the car. He walked around it once, and ran a finger along the hood to check for any dust.

Satisfied, he turned back to Marcus. “You know this might be your calling. Cleaning rich guys' cars with your spit.”

The crowd laughed again while Gerard reached into his jacket and pulled out a fold of cash from it.

“Here,” he tossed it to the ground, and the dollar bills landed near Marcus’s feet.

"Use that to shower and get some clothes that don’t look like rags," Gerard pressed his fingers to his nose. "You smell like garbage and you look worse."

Marcus looked down at the money without saying anything.

"And just so we're clear," Gerard added, sliding his sunglasses back on, "this was never about the money. Your net-worth can’t measure up to what I spend in ten minutes. Consider this a lesson. Know your place next time."

He got into his Bentley without looking back and zoomed off, leaving Marcus sitting on the pavement.

The crowd laughed a moment longer, still filming, then they started to drift away one by one, already pressing their phones like nothing had happened.

Marcus sat there in the silence that followed. But the silence didn’t last long as one of the men from the crowd hurried over with two of his friends.

"Yo, check it out." The man pointed to the cash on the ground.

"This loser doesn't even need it," the other friends laughed as the man picked up the money.

When he was done, he held the cash in his hand and looked at Marcus.

"What's a bumpkin like you gonna do with money like this anyway?" He mocked and slapped Marcus with the wad.

His friends snickered. “Maybe he’ll buy a house!”

Marcus didn’t bother saying anything as he watched them pocket the money and walk off laughing.

Then it hit him. Katie.

He jumped to his feet so fast his vision doubled, grabbed his scooter, and sped off. By the time he got to the venue, he was already several minutes late.

Marcus parked his scooter a few blocks away from the event center, knowing Belinda would have his head if she saw it anywhere close.

Two burly security guards stood at the gate, and their gazes were fixed on him as he hurried toward them.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." One of them stepped forward and blocked his path. "Where do you think you're going?"

Marcus stopped in his tracks and paused to catch his breath. "I'm needed inside," he explained. "This is my wife's event, and I need to help out."

The guards slowly looked him up and down.

His shirt was wrinkled and stained. His trousers were covered in dirt and his hair was a disheveled mess.

"Your wife's event," one of the guards snorted. "You look like you crawled out of a sewer, and you expect me to believe you're married to the gorgeous woman hosting this party?”

Marcus frowned. "Look, I really don't have time for this. I need to get inside right now or I'm going to be in serious trouble."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" The same guard sized Marcus up with his muscles flexed. "You think I'm stupid? You think you can waltz up here and cook up some shit story for me to eat up?”

"I'm not cooking anything, I swear—"

"There is no way you're going in," the guard cut him off. "Not looking like that. Not on my watch."

The second guard tilted his head, studying Marcus, then a furrow formed between his brows.

"Hold on," his eyes narrowed. "This guy looks familiar."

"What are you talking about?" the first guard scoffed.

"No, seriously." The second guard pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward his partner.

"Look. This is the guy. The one from that video going around right now."

The first guard glanced at the video, and his eyes widened. Then he looked back at Marcus with an amused expression.

“What?” Marcus asked, his brows furrowed.

The second guard turned his phone toward Marcus. “This you?” He taunted as he pressed play on the video.