A Dark Night
Posted: Wed Mar 6, 2013 11:12 pm
It was dark now, the suns light had given way to a gloom illuminated only by headlights and streetlamps as he made his way past the Pakistani rug stores and medical marijuana dispenseries that lined the streets. This was a depraved place, and, for a moment, he wondered what madness had brought him here. Remembering, he pushed onward and pulled into a parking lot serving a Jack in the Box and a dingy decrepit office building. His stomach turned as he remember a night spent in pain after binging on 33 cent tacos, but he was not here for fast food. He averted his attention to the office building. He knew what awaited him inside.
"I need to do this." He thought of the long nights spent across the Utah Nevada boarder, pilfered wages thrown down hungry tubes of Montego Bay. He was desperate.
The rental car's door shut softly as he donned a hood and looked through the night. No man was watching, but he looked to the sky and swallowed hard. Tonight he would forsake his God. Timberlands' clack echoes against the curb as he approached the offices, the door oppening for him when he was a few feet away. A doorman with strong hands and a grim expression glanced his way, nodding toward a door ahead, a door to a room with no windows.
He swallowed again.
After turning the handle, he entered a room populated by one man. A half burnt cigar was twisting in the crook of his mouth and smoke rings were dicipating into a cloud hovering below the ceiling. "Evening, Ty."
Mitch Kupchak's expression betrayed a cool demenor and a wicked intent. "I understand we can help each other. Is this true?"
The nervousness leaked out in a voice that sounded even more like kermit the frog tonight. "I hope so, Mitch"
"Mr. Kupchak!" He corrected with a fervor, slamming a leather bag on the table. "It's all there."
Reaching for the bag, Ty was halted by a hand that grabbed his wrist, across the oaken table, the man looked coldly into his soul. "Favors doesn't play more than 22 minutes a game, and Foye starts. Understand?"
"I understand." Ty stuttered. "Do you know what would happen if Stern found out?"
"Why do you think we're in The Valley?" Ty felt assured, and walked out with a bag full of 30 pieces of silver. The Miller's will never know, he thought as he walked back to his Dollar rent-a-car. He breathed a sigh of relief.
p.s. sorry about the Buss one
"I need to do this." He thought of the long nights spent across the Utah Nevada boarder, pilfered wages thrown down hungry tubes of Montego Bay. He was desperate.
The rental car's door shut softly as he donned a hood and looked through the night. No man was watching, but he looked to the sky and swallowed hard. Tonight he would forsake his God. Timberlands' clack echoes against the curb as he approached the offices, the door oppening for him when he was a few feet away. A doorman with strong hands and a grim expression glanced his way, nodding toward a door ahead, a door to a room with no windows.
He swallowed again.
After turning the handle, he entered a room populated by one man. A half burnt cigar was twisting in the crook of his mouth and smoke rings were dicipating into a cloud hovering below the ceiling. "Evening, Ty."
Mitch Kupchak's expression betrayed a cool demenor and a wicked intent. "I understand we can help each other. Is this true?"
The nervousness leaked out in a voice that sounded even more like kermit the frog tonight. "I hope so, Mitch"
"Mr. Kupchak!" He corrected with a fervor, slamming a leather bag on the table. "It's all there."
Reaching for the bag, Ty was halted by a hand that grabbed his wrist, across the oaken table, the man looked coldly into his soul. "Favors doesn't play more than 22 minutes a game, and Foye starts. Understand?"
"I understand." Ty stuttered. "Do you know what would happen if Stern found out?"
"Why do you think we're in The Valley?" Ty felt assured, and walked out with a bag full of 30 pieces of silver. The Miller's will never know, he thought as he walked back to his Dollar rent-a-car. He breathed a sigh of relief.
p.s. sorry about the Buss one