[Sodium_noir] Business Before Pleasure

[Joshua Cameron]

Buford, Allen
A Boss and Employee
A Well-Appointed Home Office
An hour past sunset

Colonel Jeremiah Buford continued staring out the
windows of his home office, watching traffic lights
twinkle off the skyscrapers of the business district
across the bay.  Slightly to the left were the
islands, the nearer one with its attendant Fun Fair
construction, the further one with its fishermen and
horseshoe crabs.
 
He kept his back to the man behind him and took a deep
breath.  Not because he needed it; he’d passed the
need for such mundane things as breathing and eating
behind long ago.  No, Buford took a deep breath
because he wanted to taste the salt air and fresh
jasmine play over the back of his tongue while he
ruminated on what the man behind him had just said.
 
First came the Beast, howling up from the depths of
what passed for a soul among the Damned.  Buford
fought against the irrational urge to scream, to take
up his cane and splinter it against the door, to throw
his desk through the windows and into the dark water
below, to rip open the skull of the man behind him and
smear his brains over the walls and hardwood floor.
 
The grandfather clock to his left chimed a quarter of
an hour while Buford fought with his demon, mastered
it, and finally pushed it away, stuffing it back in
its cage until it was truly needed.
 
Next came the weariness, a bone-numbing tiredness that
comes from seeing too many years, fighting too many
fights, and watching too many things repeat themselves
over an over again.
 
Finally, acceptance.  This was a setback.  Nothing
more, nothing less.  He’d played this game often
enough to know that someone would eventually make a
mistake and he would have another chance.  Feint and
riposte.
 
Through it all the man behind him never saw him stir. 
He watched Mr. Buford stand with the perfect stillness
that only comes from furniture and the dead, save for
that first breath of salt air and old memories.  It
was half-past the hour before Mr. Buford’s soft drawl
was heard again.
 
“Well Allen, I trust that not everyone is trying to
line their pockets with my money.  What about the
construction of the administration building?”
 
Allen breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. 
Contractors using cheap materials and padding their
invoices were nothing new, and usually weren’t the
sort of thing that Allen would bother Mr. Buford with.
 But with a project with this much exposure, Mr.
Buford wasn’t taking any chances.  Through Allen, he
let it be known that “business as usual” wouldn’t be
tolerated, but there was always some fool willing to
risk Mr. Buford’s displeasure.
 
“The administration building is on-time and on-budget.
 It looks like Mr. Torres isn’t trying to rob you
blind.”
 
A sound came from deep within Buford’s throat, but
Allen couldn’t tell if it was a grunt or an aborted
laugh.
 
“Thievery is thievery Allen, whether its taking an
apple from a fruit stand or embezzling a million
dollars.”
 
Buford let the silence settle between them before
speaking again.
 
“Please tell Raul to meet us downstairs at the dock. 
I think that we need to pay Mr. Torres a visit tonight
before we take care of other business.”

(to be continued...)

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