Job Reveal
ANDREW
Again, I woke up next to Laura.
Something was different.
Of course, a lot was supposed to be different.
By now, I should wake up to the cries of my daughter or even to a woman named Eleanor next to me on the bed, but this was different.
It was at this point I recalled my reason for coming awake.
There was a phone, beeping right next to me on the table next to the bed. Sitting up properly, I picked it up and turned off the sounds.
Looking at its screen, I saw a call from the Boss.
At such time in the night.
What was he thinking?
It had stopped beeping, leaving me with a sigh that ran out of my mouth. But immediately, it started again.
Jumping on my feet, I took the phone with me out of the room. Wiping my face with my hand, I came back to reality from la la land, realizing that this was a call from the Boss.
“Yes, Boss,” I mouthed, placing the device on my ear. “Good morning, Boss. I'm sorry, but I was asleep a while ago when the first call came in.”
“Shut up!” From the other end, he sounded.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What happened to do a clean and perfect job just as you are taught?” He was fuming, and I could feel the heat from my end.
“What did I tell you to do with the powders handed over to you just yesterday morning, Andrew? Give me a reply!”
I began to shiver.
Before being taken into the gang by a friend who no longer worked in this rank, I was told about how dangerous Boss could be. _“Don't ever get on his nerves. He pays well and that's the good part of it.”_ These were the words of my friend and resounded over and over again, scaring me to death while I racked my head for an answer to give the Boss.
“How dare you go silent on Boss?!”
Once again, he had begun to shout like a mad dog.
“I would be here to give my explanation to the Boss before afternoon if I were you,” he mocked with a tone of laughter. “You've not lasted up to three years in this Establishment and you're on the verge of exposing us to the police. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I—I—” my words failed me but I had to try again.
“I’m so sorry, Boss. I didn't mean to make a mistake. Please, forgive me and give me another chance to try again. I don't know what I have done but you have to forgive me.”
“Did you say you don't know what you have done?”
“Y—yes—”
“Which house were you asked to deliver the coke to?”
“House 6,” I let out. “You asked me to deliver the coke to House 6 and I did just that.”
The man burst out laughing.
“I should have known that Peter would bring unfortunate people to me. This is an example of what I speak of—”
Again, he burst out laughing.
“Did you say I asked you to deliver to House 6? Where is the piece of paper I handed to you when you were about to leave the warehouse just yesterday?”
“I don't know.”
“You son of a bitch!” I heard him jump on his feet.
“If I were you, I would look for that piece of paper and bring it with you on your way to work later today. If you do not have it, then you should stay back in your home and not come close to my warehouse.”
The call ended.
It ended!
The Boss was angry, obviously.
What did I do wrong?
Didn't I see House 6 on the piece of paper I was given? Looking around me, I tried to process my thoughts while in search of what and where the paper was kept.
It was hard to recall, and I gave up.
One thing I needed to do in order to recall where the piece of paper was kept, was to sleep. There was no way my brain would function properly if I didn't shut my eyes.
With this, I walked back into the room, but with a heavy heart. Many thoughts were running around in my head and sleep, somehow, was far away from me.
How could I sleep when my life was about to be in danger? Did Peter not say that the Boss was a very dangerous man? I, myself, have seen this on several occasions. How was I supposed to cope if he came after me, and maybe my wife? I turned around so that I could face the woman.
In a short while, my eyes finally shut.
Hours later, my eyes opened.
Not only did my eyes open, but my nose to the nice aroma of something that was cooking.
Ignoring everything that happened the night before—
No, a few hours ago.
I jumped off the bed, looking around the room as I searched for the woman I was married to.
Walking out, the aroma was stronger, filling my nose as I anticipated to have a taste.
“Look who we have here,” from behind me, her voice sounded. “Good morning to the man of my dreams. Did the man of my dreams have a good night at least?” Laura stood in front of me, half naked, but with an apron that was worn over her. “Wanna grab my butt?”
Of course, how did she know?
We shared a kiss. I grabbed her butt.
“Good morning, beautiful woman. I slept well, yes. I slept right next to you, what do you expect? Am I not sleeping well?” I chuckled and kissed her again.
“Tell me. Did you have a good night as well, mm?”
“Yes, beside the man of my dreams.”
Turning around, she dragged me with her to the kitchen.
“Would you love to have a taste before it's ready? I'm making pasta. I figured this was the time to finally start cooking for my man. It's you who have been doing it ever since the day of our wedding. How sweet can you be?”
“You are my wife—” I kissed her neck. “This is the very least I could do for you, Laura. All you need to do is sleep, wake up, and cook something to eat. Watch over the house also and don't worry about the bills, mm?”
“I know. I know. Thank you, baby,” she kissed me this time, facing the pot of food. “It'll be ready in a bit. Do you have work today? I'm sure—”
The rest of the things she said didn't matter.
I knew I was ignoring it, just like I thought to myself. But what would I do to survive if I ignored a job that paid me millions of dollars at the end of the month?
“I'll be back, baby—” mouthing, I turned around and walked towards the door.
“I'll be sure to join you for dinner later, mm? Work is calling me—” I dashed out of the space, reaching the living room and asking myself if I was with the piece of paper at some point just yesterday.
There was nothing there.
Where then?!
Was I supposed to search the whole of the house for a piece of fucking paper?! I stopped, looking around the living room. Was it safe to ask my wife?
No, not at all.
Instructions were given to myself and the rest of the boys on several occasions —we shouldn't talk to anyone about the nature of the job we do. We would be in trouble if we did that, and I didn't trust Laura.
Maybe I did but not in a case as sensitive as this.
Changing my mind, almost giving up, I led my way through the stairs, catching up with the hallway and then stopping at the door of my bedroom.
In my mind, I prayed with a wish that I would see this piece of paper. How did I even make such a mistake?
Pushing the door open, I walked into the space, starting by checking out the dressing table where so many bottles of perfumes and skincare routines were placed.
There was nothing like that.
Not even a piece of another paper.
Suddenly, I began to question myself on where the clothes I wore to work were kept.
Maybe this piece of paper was hiding in one of them.
What was I thinking?
It had to be there.
Looking around me once again, I found the clothes basket in a corner of the room, and without any hesitation—I arrived right there—opening and taking out any clothes of mine that were in it.
In a short while, I found the outfit I wore to the warehouse two days ago. The same one I used in delivering the package of coke to the client.
Settling on the bed, I searched each pocket.
There was nothing in it.
Picking up the second piece of outfit, I wished it was in it. If it wasn't, then I would have lost my job. My thoughts were racing when my hand felt something.
Saying a short prayer, I took out a piece of paper.
A loud sigh ran out of my mouth. And when I looked at the number on the paper, it wasn't House 6.
It was House 16.