Time to go home (Story start).

As you exited the door from the basement into the bookstore, a big Latino fellow meets you and wordlessly walks you to the door. His icy glare keeps the customers at a distance which is something you very much appreciate. As evening has approached, it seems the clientele in the shop has become seedier and if your nose is telling the truth, boozier.

He holds the door open and you can see the black BMV waiting at idle parallel to the curb with a tall dark skinned fellow in a white suit standing next to it. He nods at the two of you and opens the back passenger door. The man that escorted you out stops and gestures to the car.

"Mr. James asked me to make sure you got out without too much of a hassle. You look like you're in decent shape from here. Richard will get you home."

He offers the man holding the door a thumbs up and walks back inside, ignoring your sideways look at him.

"Ma'am? Your seat?" The driver asks.

You walk over and climb in. You have questions but figure he's trapped in the car with you for the next fifteen minutes so you'll get your answers. Besides the sidewalk here smells like a barrel of whiskey had a kinky time with bathtub full of vomit. Better to talk while on the road, you figure.

The man closes the door behind you, stares down a dirty looking approaching vagrant and gets in the driver's side. The dirty old man tries to look in your tinted window as the car drives off, you count four teeth in his mouth as the vehicle leaves. You belt in and look toward the back of the driver's head.

"Richard?"

He shakes his head.

"Ma'am, I'm paid very well for two reasons. One, I am very discrete. Two, I keep what I know to myself. I have your address, I'll get you home. I also have an envelope for you. You'll get it when you get out of the car. Otherwise, enjoy the quiet. You're safe here."

Then the driver shuts up and watches the road. You shake your head, pop your pods in and listen to your music. The driver smiles as he glances at you in his rear view mirror seeing a frustrated frown creep across your face. You aren't used to being told to be quiet or hearing that you'll get something later. Men are infuriating!

You do convince him to take you to the bank where you use an ATM to deposit most of your loot. This makes you a bit happier, since money in the bank means shopping is a realistic choice tomorrow. Your mind is running through various options for a day trip when the car pulls in front of your building.

There's nothing special about your apartment complex. It's an eight story square building with ugly green aluminum siding and red trim. There's ten apartments on each floor meaning you have way too many noisy neighbors. It's run by a university alumni so students get a special rate, otherwise you'd be stuck with roommates. There's no way you want to share 600+ square feet with someone else unless they're cute. Rich would be even better but then you'd expect them to spring for something nicer.

The driver opens the door for you and you climb out. Wordlessly he escorts you into the building, up the stairs to the sixth floor and to your apartment. After you unlock the door, he hands you a large manila envelope and wishes you a good evening. He ignores your reply and trots down the stairwell. You step inside and slam the door shut. Men grrrrrrrr!

So what first? You look at the envelope in your hands and think on it a bit. There's also email to check, it's early but maybe something is there already? A warm shower would be nice too, you got quite a work out this afternoon after all.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. . .