In the Night

Thomas

My footsteps echoed along the marble floor of the empty house, halls decorated in classic fashion. It was far too eloquent to be a D.C. row house and every time I found myself in Stanford Gregory's residence I forgot where I was. I hadn't chose to be there, not by any means, but it was a necessity at that point. If I wanted to keep my head above water, I needed to clear a few things up.

A binder was tucked under my arm, full of prospective recruits that I imagined would strike the man's fancy. It hadn't taken me long to get them together but only one concerned me. I kept those worries to myself as I approached the study door, wrapping a knuckle against the hard wood.

"Come in." Came a deep voice from within, beckoning me forward. As I opened the door, Stanford spun in his chair, a cigar in one hand and a lighter in the other. "Thomas. Good to see you. You look well."

"Let's get this over with. I have a business to run." I spat, taking a seat without being offered.

"Watch your tone, boy. Don't forget who you're talking to." His threatening guise fell on deaf ears, as I was in no mood for being chastised.

"I know exactly who I'm talking to. You're no friend of mine. You bullied me to come over here." Usually Mondays were full of real meetings, sales calls, and checking up on other business ventures. This was just ridiculous. "When I told you I wasn't ready, I meant it."

"There's no time for that. These clients want fresh bodies. They're tired of the old stuff." Stanford took a puff of his cigar, blowing the smoke in my direction. He spotted the binder and aimed his stogie towards it. "Is that it?"

"Yes, I brought them. Like you asked."

"Let me see them." He stuck a fat hand out, gesturing at me.

Hesitant, I opened the fold out binder and began to remove the files one at a time. I began to name the recruits, file by file. Each with their own strengths and what they brought to the table. Until I got to the one that bothered me the most. I neglected to take that one from the binder, skipping over it and moving to the next one. Stanford didn't seem to notice, just glancing over the folders I had removed and eyeing the pictures that were paper clipped to the front.

"A few of these will do." He grunted, free hand swiping past his comb over. "What about this Julia? She looks older than the rest of them."

"She's been out of the game for a while, but she says she's willing to dip her feet back in." I hated asking Julia to go back to work for me under the table, but if that was what she wanted to do then I wouldn't stop her.

I watched as Stanford sorted the folders into piles, handing me back a hefty stack. "We need more. If we're going to keep these clients interested then you need to reel these women in, Thomas. This isn't a game. I would have thought that you of all people would understand that."

"Don't lecture me about business." A growl escaped me, hands balling into fists against my thighs. "I do the heavy lifting with recruits, and you sit back and run your big mouth about what needs to be done. So whose doing the real work?"

He stood, the chair flying back away from the desk so fast it spun in a circle. "How dare you come in here and scream at me!" I swallowed, glaring up at him. "If I wanted to, I could put you out of business by tomorrow morning, but I won't. I need your expertise, what little skill you have." The man rounded the desk, coming to stand over me. He leaned, huffing smoke into my face. "But let me tell you one thing, Thomas Ewan Sterling. If you think you can scuttle me around like one of your cheap whores then you are sorely mistaken."

"Are you finished?" Unfazed, I stood from my seat, snatching the unwanted files from the desk. "I don't plan on treating you like a whore, Stanford." I opened the folder and propped it on the desk. "I treat them far better than I would ever treat you." With the shake of my head I stuffed the folders back into their home, going to snap it shut just as a meaty appendage snagged the misplaced file.