"Oh, Christ," Jack growled after looking at the address on the next delivery box.
"What's wrong?" Clark stared at him, eyes wide, clearly terrified of anything that was bad enough to shake Jack up.
"Our next delivery." Jack sighed. "It's the loan sharks who loaned me the money for my eyes."
Clark blinked. "You went to a loan shark?"
"Didn't have any choice. I tried to get a loan from my own bank first, but they turned me down because I don't make enough money. How's that for a kick in the balls? My own bank, the same bank my family has used for almost a century, turned me down. So did every other bank and credit union I applied at. Finally, I found a loan company that was willing to give me the money I needed, but now they harass me like the fuckin' Mafia if my payment is ten seconds late." He shrugged. "They're not technically loan sharks, but you wouldn't know it from talking to 'em."
"Well, I suppose you should've kept your real eyes until you could afford it on your own."
"I didn't get these for shits and giggles." Jack gave him the finger. "I lost my eyes a few months after I started on this job. Got mugged one night, bastard sprayed me with a toxic mace and my eyes were pretty much destroyed. Company insurance got me a pair of cheap-ass eyes that didn't work half the time, so I had to find some better ones."
"Oh." Clark looked away and scratched at his cheek in an attempt to hide his blush.
"Yeah, 'oh.'" Jack eased his car into the parking lot in front of On the Spot Loans, Inc. It was a small office sandwiched between several other businesses that moved in and out every few months, none of them surviving long in the stranglehold the major corporations had on the city. In this case, maybe it wasn't a bad thing. With any luck, these scumbags would go bankrupt soon.
Jack sighed and got out. "Let's get this over with."
"Late on one of your payments?" Clark looked bemused as if he couldn't understand the concept of anyone not having enough money to pay all their bills.
Jack grumbled under his breath. "I get my paycheck on Thursday. I'll pay 'em then. Can't do it before that." He strode across the lot and through the front doors. The place had several desks in the area near the doors, and these were surrounded by a couple dozen cubicles. Jack glanced at the box's screen again and saw that whoever had ordered the pizza hadn't left a name. He shrugged and headed for the nearest desk.
A blond woman glanced up from whatever she was typing and gave him a plastic smile. "Can I help you?"
"Know who ordered this?"
"What is it?"
Well, let's see, I'm carrying a box with a pizza company logo on it, the guy standing next to me has the same logo on his shirt and hat, so it's obviously a case of penis stretchers.
"It's a pizza," he said, speaking as if to a child.
"Oh! Well, it was probably Lane." She pointed to a clean-cut young man at another desk. He was wearing a white shirt and a tie and had the same air of superiority that Jack had come to know and despise over the last few years.
Jack walked across the room. The guy was on the phone, grinning and laughing as he talked with someone about the cruise he was planning. Jack cleared his throat and Lane nodded absently and held up his index finger as if to say, "Just a moment." Jack sighed and waited.
"Yeah," Lane said, nodding even though the phone wasn't a video-capable model. "Yeah, we're getting two weeks on the ship for only thirty thousand dollars. Yeah, great deal, huh?"
Only thirty thousand? Jack's lips curled in disgust. He kept waiting, growing more and more pissed, until Lane finally finished the conversation and hung up.
"Okay, how much is it?"
Right down to business. Not even an insincere "sorry to keep you waiting." Jack glanced at the screen again and said, "Forty-nine ninety-five."
"Wow, that's an awful lot just for a pizza."
Jack struggled to prevent his mouth from dropping open. He stared at Lane and waited.
Finally, Lane dug his wallet out and handed Jack a twenty and three tens. Jack took the pizza out of the box, placed it on the desk, and reached into his pocket to dig out a nickel. Lane snapped his fingers twice and held out his hand.
"Change!"
"Yes, I know." Jack scowled at him. "What the hell do you think I was reaching into my pocket for?" He took a nickel out of the handful of coins and pocket lint and tossed it onto the desk. "Here's your five cents. Have a nice evening." He turned toward the door.
"Hey," Lane said, "you're Jack Hammer, aren't you?"
Here we go. Jack turned to face Lane and waited.
"You know, I was looking at your file today." Lane smirked. "Your latest payment is overdue."
"The due date came before I get my paycheck. I'll have it on Thursday, and send you the payment then."
"A late payment is a late payment." Lane shrugged and chuckled, and the smugness oozing from every pore made Jack want to stomp on the guy's head hard enough to shoot his teeth out of his asshole. "A late fee will be added, of course, so be sure you include that when you get around to making your payment."
Fuck you and everybody who looks like you! Jack stormed out the door. He got into his car, slammed the door, and simmered until Clark joined him.
"Son of a bitch can afford thirty thousand dollars for a cruise, but throws a fit if I don't give him his goddamn nickel fast enough." Jack shook his head. "I hope he gets hit by lightning and doesn't die." He snarled, started the engine, and eased out of the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel and gear shift to keep his hands from shaking.
Clark, wisely, kept his mouth shut.
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