Joshua glared at the Hyatt Regency valet. “What do you mean I have to pay you to park? We’re just going in for a drink at the Watertable.”
The young man placed his hands on Joshua’s door. “Look, I’m trying to do you a solid. I just ask you do me one back.”
“What are you talking about?”
The young man leaned closer to the driver’s window. “Let me spell it out for you. You give me a decent tip, and I park your vehicle so all you have to do is walk out of the bar and go straight to your car.”
“I never,” protested Joshua.
The young valet reached for the door handle, and Harold’s large hand slid between Joshua’s seat and the window. He laid it on top of the valet’s hand that still gripped the window frame of the door, encompassing the young man’s hand as well as his wrist and part of his arm. The young man froze and looked closely at the rear passenger window. His eyes grew wide, and he jerked his hand free of the door and back away.
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