R Evans

Negotiations

I sat at the bar staring at the scratchcard in my hand. It had been a while since anyone had come to me with a paying job, I was down to my last $50. Enough to keep the drinks flowing for an afternoon at the dirtiest drinking hole I knew and this $2 scratchcard. The odds were not great but it’s not like I had anything left to lose. I could smell his aftershave before I could hear him, he strode up to me like he owned the place.