Bob stepped from the garage into the utility room. Marie was in the kitchen.
“Jesus Bobby, you finally made it home? Do you know what time it is? Ya coulda called. Fuckin’ dinner is ruined.”
Bob grabbed her around the waist, dipped her and kissed her. Corny as hell and he knew it but, Marie was a romantic, “Sorry baby, I lost track of time. Whaddaya got to eat? I got one more meetin’ tonight but it shouldn’t take too long.”
Marie melted, “The roast is beyond hope but, I can rustle up a scramble. Potatoes, eggs and bacon pretty quick honey. Will that work?”
“Sounds great babe, you get started and I’ll get my stuff for the next meeting.” He turned her loose and headed to his office. He opened the safe and pulled out the contract proposal. Put it into his briefcase. Then he rifled through the file but, there was nothing here he didn’t know. He decided to take it with him anyway and placed it into the case as well. The file fit neatly below the contract proposal.
Back to the kitchen Marie was finishing up his bacon and egg scramble.
He scarfed, “That was awesome baby. Can you wait up for me? My meetin’s at midnight. I should be back by half twelve.”
“I’ll be up Bobby. I’ll be waitin’ for ya.”
He kissed her again and went back into the garage, pressed the button on the key fob popping the trunk open. The briefcase dropped neatly into the back of his black Cadillac Coupe De Ville and he gently closed the trunk. The remote opened the garage door, so he started the car and backed out into the street. Accelerating quickly away from the house he grinned at the smell of brimstone permeating the dark, narcotic night air and grinned.
The crossroad was dark when Bob arrived. What the hell was he doing setting up meetings here in the middle of the night? That kid was never gonna show. I’ll give him 15 minutes Bob thought to himself and then I’m outta here. Ten minutes later he was thinking that the kid wasn’t gonna show and he shoulda stayed at home with Marie. Two minutes after that, he saw headlights comin’ in from the east. As it drew near Bob saw a Mustang, convertible with the top down.
“OK” he thought “the kid’s got class,” and he got out of his caddy.
The lone occupant of the mustang got out of his car and they walked together to meet at the center of the crossroads.
The mustang driver was just a kid and he nodded at Bob.
Bob nodded back, “So ya wanna be a writer kid?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” said the kid.
Bob set his briefcase on the hood of the Coupe De Ville, opened it and took out the contract. He turned to the back page and said, “sign here.”