Chapter Three

A new BMW 7 Series pulled into a designated space inside a climate-controlled indoor parking garage at the base of a corporate highrise tower. It glided across the elevated ground like marble over smoothe glass into the space of “JIMMY T, CEO”, which was marked on the wall in an impeccable plaque.

Jimmy himself stepped out of the car and let the door close itself, a new feature in the 7 series he was privileged enough to be testing out. He was young for a CEO, bright eyed with a wave of confidence resting in his hair. He stared at the entrance for a moment, then turned and got his work bag from his car, once again letting the door close on its own.

He headed into the building through an annex hallway and went straight for the elevator. It brought him up to the main floor. He walked through the hallway until he reached the Thatcher Settlement Law Firm, PLLC sign outside the door. As soon as he stepped into the reception area, his young receptionist Lisa Caruso perked up from her seat to greet him.

“Lisa,” he said with a nod.

“Morning, Jimmy.” she replied.

Past her was the rest of the office, a pathway of high efficiency cubicle spaces for his team of settlement attorneys to take phone calls and requisition documents for their work. It was a modern space, high visibility and planned for ease of movement. Contemporary art pieces touched up the otherwise blank walls, adding sophistication to the empty space without causing distraction for wandering minds.

Jimmy’s office was further from the rest of the work floor, and fully secluded with its own walls. It was a stripped down efficient design, just a desk with his computer and a few bookshelves lined up together to display his certificates, degrees, awards and volumes of legal books as his credentials. He went straight for the computer and began his day by scrolling through emails to read and reply to.

Part way through his work, he heard a knock at his door. It was just about time for him to be interrupted anyway. “Come in.”

Beth Haines, a young woman with short, brownish hair peeped her head into the office.

“Jimmy,” she began, “we’re short on payroll again.”

Jimmy moved his chair away from the center of his desk, away from his monitors, and turned his full focus onto her. “What? How? I just wired 100 grand in the account this month.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“You speak to Nia?” Jimmy asked.

“Not yet.” Beth answered.

“Well, you need to. She’ll dig it up, I must have wired it to the wrong account.”

“I’ll check in with her. Thanks.”

Beth left Jimmy to his work. She expected him to sift through his emails and double-check his accounts just to be sure. He was meticulous when it came to business matters. Trusting him with bad news was the best way to turn it into something good. With her delivery of that information over with, she marched through the call floor to another, different private office.

The dual office hosted David Lewis, a man who wore thick, black glasses and Nia Moore who had long red hair that draped over her shoulders. Beth entered, the soft clack of the door announcing her presence. “Morning, Beth,” David said, spotting her from behind his glasses. Beth returned a stoic gaze to him and turned shoulder-first to block him out. She was hoping he wasn’t there, or that he wouldn’t notice her, and turned to Nia.

“We’re short on payroll again. Jimmy said it’s in one of the other accounts.”

“Yeah, sure,” Nia said as she began her own check into the system. “How much was the wire?” “100 grand.” Beth replied.

Nia typed just a few keys on her keyboard, then turned to her with a sharp smile. “You’ll have it in no time.” Beth sighed with relief and left the office. David stood up. Nia glanced at him, wondering if he was about to follow Beth out. He grabbed his empty coffee cup and let it swing on his finger.

“You two got something goin on?” Nia asked.

“Beth?” David asked. He scoffed with a smirk. “No. I gave her a lecture on professionalism and now she’s pissed at me.”

“Mm-hmm,” Nia nodded. “Right.”

David stood for a moment. The sound of typing kept the silence from permeating the room. Without it, the sound of phones and distant chattering of the call floor would have made the silence more awkward.

“A hundred grand,” David said. “Jimmy’s rolling in cash, man.”

“I would too if I moved investor’s money around the way he does.” Nia implied.

“Shhhh,” David hissed. “We’re all gonna end up at the unemployment office if you keep running that mouth of yours. We both know Jimmy isn’t Mr. Clean. He has some dirty work under his belt but he takes care of us.”

“Hey, if that’s what you want it to be.” she said as she kept typing.

“That’s what it is. Now I need my daily fix.” He held up his cup and shook it as if there was something in it to jingle. He left the office.

“Dick rider,” Nia muttered.

“I heard that, Nia,” he said as he shut the door.

He set his path for the break room. It was early for most but too early for him. He went inside the break room, a modest but well stocked area, to see Veronica Black prepping the shared coffee pot in the corner. “Just who I needed to see,” David said. He put his mug down as he approached her from behind and replaced the empty spot in his palm with her waist. She slapped his hand away.

“David, no,” she chided. “There’s cameras everywhere.”

“Let’s give them a movie to watch.”

“You want me to act for you, mister you gotta pay? This actress cost.”

“That’s perfect, I just got a raise.” David said.

“Very funny.” She grabbed the coffee pot and held it between them, gently threatening to push its radiating heat closer to his face. “Coffee’s ready.” He smirked and backed off. She poured him a cup and then herself. “Are you coming over tonight?” he asked.

“Can’t tonight. I got a hot date.”

“I’m jealous.”

“Be very jealous.” She took her cup and walked with it, leaving David to dress his own with cream. David got his cup ready and sauntered out, passing Anthony on the way. He veered away to give him a clear path to the door. Anthony was ready to take his turn in the break room, to top off the reserve of energy he wasted in traffic, when the maintenance door on the wall closest to the hallway door swung open.

Jack Buffett stepped out. He was an older white man and visibly proud, sporting a fading Aryan brotherhood tattoo on his neck. Anthony sidestepped the door with a quick shift of his shoulders and was left face to face with Jack. “Morning, man,” he greeted.

Jack looked at Anthony, up and down, scanning him. Judging him.

“Clean up after yourself, boy,” he said.

“Damn, okay,” Anthony said. He turned toward the coffee counter, expecting some unruly mess to take the blame for, but the room was spotless. While he was turned around, Jack pushed his mop cart out of the room. Anthony waited for the clacking of the wheels against the linoleum floor to recede before he let out a brief sigh. “Hostile ass,” he muttered. He took his coffee with him to the conference room to start the workday properly.