Alibi for a Tragedy

Chapter 5. That caffeine addiction of yours

"Okay, uhm- I just need to start this up," I say typing in my password into my laptop, "from what angle does he want his business to play from. Does he want to play the role of the middle sectors?"

"Preferably a distributor, but if we can also sculpt it in such a way that it's able to form more jobs, that'll be even better."

"Okay."

Why am I doing this you ask? Some would say Money, maybe establishing my name out there.

"What's the background? His aim, reason, audience..." I ask.

"Since his son in-law owns a restaurant, he can save them money, by cutting down their wine expenses if he's the one distributing it to them. In the long run, he gets to help his daughter and her husband financially and it'll also be a plausible future investment."

"So basically sugar coated nepotism."

"It's business."

"Business, huh," I say smacking my teeth with my tongue.

"You just wouldn't understand Laura, this is basically survival."

From my two years, what I have never been able to do, is fathom the level of greediness radiated by some of the wealthiest business men in this city. So shallow that they are willing to make small companies go to ruins just because they will be able to save a few hundred thousands of their millions. That's not survival, but it's definitely business. Someone owning a business and being sorely depended on it to put the next meal on their table, that's survival, but then again that's also business.
I grew up with a father that owned a local supermarket that went to ruin when a well known franchise built their own fancy little supermarket in our town. This took a toll on my dad and he later on suffered a stroke that same year after my sister's birth. He couldn't handle knowing he had just welcomed a new child into this year when we could hardly pay our electricity.
Business is all about ruthlessness and greed. I understand business and that is why I love my job...

"I think our definitions of survival vary by a huge margin," I chuckle, tuning my inner thoughts off, "anyway I was thinking that we could potentially create more jobs if we make Mr Thornburg source wine from small, local upcoming companies, not his wealthy friends and...."

"That'll also make the public like him," Kevin says after about two an hour of brainstorming and back and forth.

"Yeah, precisely. Isn't that what his whole brand is about, anyway. The public's perspective and what they ultimately perceive him as?"

"We can definitely work with this and I think he'll love it. We can continue again someday this work," he says shutting down his computer.

'Okay," I slump into the chair and look at my watch and notice that it's almost half-past nine, "Gideon flying back tonight, I need to be at home," I say packing my laptop and everything else.

"Okay," he says staring at me, slumping in the chair rocking it a bit, "Goodnight, Laura," he continues once I'm at the door.

"Goodnight, Kevin," I reply.

The parking lot is always dodgy at night. Underground parking lots have never been my forte; always resembling an open, empty slaughter field and with only a few cars parked probably belonging to the bosses and overtime workers, I speed walk towards my car, the heavy bag and files in my hand slowing me down a bit.
At this point anyone could just make a run for me and kidnap me or something, that being one of the least awful things that can happen.
My hand extended with my car keys in hand as if that'll make me get there faster. Once I  get into my car, I lock releasing a heavy breath.
On my way home I stop at Danny's cafe for my usual cup of coffee every night. There's about two people inside, all busy on their laptops and just the two waitresses that are usually on duty.