Untitled. Teaser
Little out of the order of the book but here's another litte teaser for ya!
‘Special delivery for Mr. Fairfield’ said the courier, stepping up to the reception desk of Fairfield & Co. She was still a bit phased by the place even after all this time. She had been making deliveries here for a couple of years now, but this place was something else. It wasn't just the scale - after all, how many places have mature trees in their entrances, but it was also the perfect harmony of the very modern steel and glass with the beautifully crafted wooden furniture. It blew her away every time.
‘OK. Where would you like me to sign?’ replied the receptionist, snapping Cary out of her trance.
‘Oh, no, it’s hand deliver only, you can call Mr. Fairfield to check if you like. You must be new here, I‘m always here at this time, each month, most of the others send me straight up now.’
‘Let me just check your status, what did you say your name was?’
‘Cary Williams’
‘Yep, got you on my list, you can go straight up. I guess he’ll be expecting you.' She smiled sweetly.
‘Nice lass’ thought Cary, walking towards the lifts, the small parcel under one arm.
On the eighth floor, she strolled down the hall and sat, as usual, in the comfy seats in the games room. Sometimes she played pool against herself or tried to beat Mr. Fairfield's monster score on the pinball machine. Mostly though she sat in the comfy chairs and watched the tropical fish.
‘One day’ she mused to herself out loud, ‘I’m going to have fish like that'
‘They are wonderful to watch aren’t they‘ said a voice behind her. ’So relaxing; dreadful cliche I know, but it‘s so true.’
She stood up, turned round and walked over to the speaker.
‘Your delivery Mr. Fairfield’ she said.
‘Thank you Cary’ he replied, handing her an envelope ‘and this one needs to go to Mr. Lloyd on Bond Street’
It was all a bit of a joke, this ritual, but that was the way she did business with people like Fairfield. Who was she to argue - it worked and that was all that mattered.
‘See you next month’ she said.
‘Not here. I’ll send you my order before the end of the week, and the delivery address.'
‘Local?’
‘Can’t say. I‘ll let you know.’
‘OK’
Cary turned and walked away, down to the lifts, then off outside to pick up her bike.
‘Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit’ shouted Cary, presented with an empty space where her mountain bike had been locked up. 'This is SO not good. What the fk am I going to do without a bike. Fking bike courier with no f**king bike - that‘s a laugh. Shit’
Jacob stepped away from the window and walked over to his desk. Sat in the centre of his writing pad was the delivery. Opening it he found a 4" stainless steel cube. He clicked off the lid and slid out the contents - a good chunk of Moroccan Red and a zip-lock bag of skunk, both carefully packaged in red foil.
‘You’ve gotta love it.‘ He smiled ’This has got to be the only dealer in the whole bloody country where their product is wrapped by craftsmen!'
He repacked the cube and picked up the phone.
‘Janice, could you come in here a minute please … thanks.’
He put down the phone and walked back over to the window.