The Darkness - Jason Pinter [25]
"I've never had to make that choice."
"Never had to, or never wanted to think you had to,"
Jack replied.
Talcott said nothing, but that bottle of scotch was practically gravitating toward his hands.
"One more thing," Jack said. "Do you have contact information for Brett Kaiser?"
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"Sure," Talcott said. "Cell phone, home phone and
e-mail address. Will that be all?"
"Just the contact info," Jack said. "And if there's anything else you can think of, here's my card."
Jack handed it to him. Talcott stared at it like it might
spontaneously burst into flame, then pocketed it.
"Not a problem." Talcott took a piece of letterhead
from his printer and scribbled the information on it. His
handwriting was sloppy and careless. My guess was that
Iris was responsible for his "personal" notes.
When he finished, Talcott folded the page and inserted
it into an Orchid Realty envelope. Jack took it and stuffed
it inside his jacket pocket.
"Pleasure meeting you," Jack said, pointing at the
bottle of liquor. "Now we'll leave you two alone."
9
Morgan Isaacs kept one hand on his BlackBerry, which
was nestled snugly inside his front pants pocket. To
anyone on the street it looked like he might be playing a
game of pocket pool, but this Chester guy was ten minutes
late and Morgan didn't want to miss a phone call. He considered leaving. I mean, who in the hell meets about a job
on the street? And Morgan didn't like to wait. In his
previous job, people waited for him. He shared a secretary, a cute piece of ass named Charlotte he could have
had at any moment. Sometimes he would send her out for
coffee just because he could. When she came back, he
wouldn't even thank her, just go into his office, pour the
cup into the bottom of his fake plant, and pull out a can
of Red Bull.
But this guy was late. Just a few short months ago,
Morgan wouldn't wait for anybody. Some asshole wanted
him to wait five minutes? Screw you, let's reschedule.
Now, Morgan didn't know when he'd even find work
again. And with bills piling up he needed to earn scratch
no matter what the cost. So if he had to suck up his pride
for a little while, so be it. A necessary evil. And whoever
this jack-off was who had him wait, well, if the company
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was good enough, Morgan would be running it within a
few years anyway. Then he'd be the one making people
late.
He felt a sense of anger rise within him as he
watched hundreds of people walking down the streets,
oblivious to him, unknowing and uncaring of what he'd
been through. Men, women, dressed in natty suits with
the finest accoutrements, they had no idea that in the
time it took to snap your fingers they could be out of
a job just like him. They had no right to be so confident, so careless, while Morgan stood there, his immediate future resting in the hands of a recommendation
of Ken Tsang and the charity of some guy he'd never
met before.
In the cab ride over--he would have preferred the bus
to save money, but Chester didn't give him a whole lot
of time--Morgan wondered whether or not he'd take the
position if one was offered. Then he chided himself. Now
was not the time to be prideful. The bills would continue
to come, the debt would continue to mount. Even a modest income would provide a stint for the bleeding, and at
least he would have health care. Time to suck it up for a
few months, Morgan had told himself. Guys with his
talent and drive didn't grow on trees. And every bumpy
road led to riches down the line.
Morgan squeezed the cell phone--thought he'd felt
it vibrate.
"Mr. Isaacs?"
Morgan turned around to see where the voice came from.
Standing directly behind him, almost inappropriately close,
was a tall, well-built man with close-cropped blond hair. He
had on a pair of rimless Cartier sunglasses, must have run
at least five hundred bucks. Not too shabby. His gray suit
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was stretched over a lean frame, and Morgan could tell the
guy had enough strength in those biceps to crush