The Clown Show

Looking over at Harold Phillips standing by the buffet, Jude shook his head with a faint smile and put his knife down on his plate.

"Got to hand it to you, Harold," Jude said. "Walking this close to me on purpose takes some serious guts."

Harold let out a laugh, sticking his chin up. "And why the hell shouldn't I walk over here?"

"Not worried you'll end up with a broken leg like Jovan over by the pillar?" Jude asked, grabbing another piece of steak.

Harold's eyes flared with hatred, his jaw clenching hard. "Don't you dare compare me to Jovan! This is my turf tonight, Lawson. You lay a single finger on me here, and I'll make sure you regret ever being born!"

"Big words," Jude said, his face calm. "Though if you want to walk out of here on your own two feet, I'd take three steps back."

"You arrogant bastard—"

Furious at how Jude looked down on him, Harold took a threatening step forward.

"Chill out, Harold... keep your head!"