The Weekday One Hundred

“Don’t fuck around down there,” he said, looking me in the eye.

“Deliver the briefcase, catch the next flight back. Understand?” he continued, lighting his slim cigarette.

I nodded, there was no upside to having an actual discussion with the brute. Besides I was just happy for the job. And for the five hundred bucks in my pocket and for the free trip out of state.

If I had to act like an overpaid messenger and deliver a briefcase – contents unknown – to someone down in Florida – identity unknown – then so be it.

Plenty of worse ways to make a buck.