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The Fruits of Their Labour

2016 Winning Entry in Writing Contests for the Brave - Be Badass

DAY 1

"He's a real bastard, Harv. He won't listen to reason."

"Then I won't give him one."

"Man, you are playin' with fire. Just pay the man the money you owe and get him out of your life."

"He'll get his money, Jordy, when I collect from the customer."

"I'm tellin' you, he won't wait. He won't give one crap about your customer."

"Okay, you warned me, now get off my case."

Harvey Biggens, dirty tricks specialist for hire, slammed his desk drawer and rocked back in the squeaking swivel chair that sacrificed itself to his abuse. Deacon Parish had hired him to correct a flaw in his wife's taste in men and to Harv that meant permanently.

The deal was, do the job and payment would be delivered as discussed. Parish had checked out financially and responsibly so Harv forwent the usual deposit because the amount was huge. His problem came up when he needed funds to accomplish the contract. The wife and her bad taste were currently at a resort in St. Lucia and Harv didn't have the bucks to finance a trip and a stay.

Bobby DeLong solved that problem for him with a loan and a vig at 30% for two weeks. Harv said sure, no big deal. the job would be done, he'd get home in ten days and collect his payment. Bobby made it clear that two weeks was a solid deadline, not two weeks and a day but two weeks. He'd looked at his watch, Harv remembered, and written the time down. Prick.

******

"I'm sorry, Mister Parish is in a meeting at the moment, may I take a message?"

"Yeah, tell him his taste problem has been corrected."

". . . are you his doctor? Is this a medical emergency of some kind?"

"Harv grinned widely. "Not any more. Just advise Mister Parish that his account is due for this service."

Harv hung up and immediately the phone rang.

"Yeah."

"It's Bobby DeLong, Harv. Six hours and twenty-three minutes, Harv. Sixteen large ones."

"I'm waiting for me client to call back. You'll get your dough."

"Oh, I know that, Harv. It's just that it jumps to another 30% after the deadline and I kind of get the feeling you aren't making that kind of dough for what you do."

"You let me worry about that, okay. You'll get your money."

"Six hours and twenty minutes, Harv." The phone clicked off.

"Six hours and twenty minutes, Harv." Harv sneered, slamming his own phone shut. "Prick."

He looked at his watch and licked dry lips. A visit to Parish might be a better solution. Shit, another 30%, what the hell is that! He changed into his casual jacket and pants, slipped his belt holster on and grabbed up his car keys as he headed out.

The receptionist looked up at Harv as he leaned on her desk, she felt her neck grow warm as he leered at her.

"Parish."

"Mister Parish is unavailable just now. If you'd care to leave your na-"

"I'll just pop up to his office and see how unavailable he is." Harv slapped the desk and headed for the staircase that led to the second floor balcony.