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hoplitejoe · May 16, 2013

Cremator's Conscience

Arrow Gamer · May 16, 2013

The first thing James noticed was the vodka. Harry never drank hard liquor when business was going well. "You called me, sir?" James asked, staring into his deep blue eyes, sad and bloodshot from the drink. Harry's hair was disheveled, his tie stained and his shirt unbuttoned, yet his rigid posture and nearly regal bearing never left his body.
"Of course," he replied, taking a deep swig of the bottle. Leaning back in his chair, he continued. "You see, James. The creditors... well, the creditors are here."
"The creditors?" James asked, his voice sharp, yet incredulous. "You said you used your savings to start the business, not loan sharks." He leaned forward, warily, wavering between anger and fear.
"Damn right, I used my savings. Worked my business up from the ground, I did. I remember, my dad said it'd ne'er work. Ne'er work! I showed him, yes I did." He took another swig, his voice wavering and the lines on his face showing.
"Sir, you said the creditors...?" James sat ther uncomfortably, disgusted by the pathetic sight of his boss, but unwilling to show it for fear of his job.
"Damn right I did. Business wasn't so great last year, I had to take some loans. No one wants to buy no goddamned toys no more." He tipped the bottle back once more, before throwing it to the ground, laughing once it shattered.
"But, sir. You never said anything about loans. Why didn't you tell us? We could have..." James paused, searching for something to say.
"Have done what? Lost respect for me? That's all that would have some out of it." His voice shook, his eyes growing watery. He hesistated.