Collateral Trade Read Online Free
Author: Candace Smith
decided, which with her was a mixed bag of beans. Part of her demanded to be in control, as she had been forced to take care of herself at such a young age. Another part of her remained uncertain, and she wanted someone strong enough to guide her. Her precarious confidence ran macho guys off.
It was all an illusion. Even her decision to take this job had kept her awake, wondering if it was the right course. She had hoped Barry would grow some balls and demand she change her mind. Instead, he seemed more excited about getting his hands on the title to her truck.
She crossed the street to her motel room. It had the nondescript look all rooms for under fifty dollars shared. Oversized flowers splashed across the double bedspread and curtains, and anything able to be carried was screwed or bolted down. This seemed ironic, as Sharell’s occupation was construction when she grew tired of slinging drinks. She could easily remove any questionably valuable trinket she wanted, but who in hell would steal a picture of a badly reproduced masterpiece or an antiquated television that needed a three foot pedestal to support it?
Still, she could steal them. She could use the telephone on the desk and call a friend to drive her back to the sane, normal world. Sharell still had control. She could still change her mind. At least, that was what she told herself.
The clock clicked on the nightstand tapping a countdown. She had thirty minutes. This sounded better than a mere half hour. Sharell lay back on the gaudy bedspread and stared at the ceiling, calming her nerves by looking for patterns in the popcorn.
What she did not realize was that she had lost control of the situation long before Barry drove off in her ’72 cherry red pickup truck. Sharell had gone through Manerea’s list, divesting herself of worldly possessions except for the acceptable items that fit into the single suitcase they gave her. She had plenty of warnings. Giving up her apartment, selling her furniture, and driving a few boxes of mementoes to Lucy’s house where she stashed them in the attic, away from her kids. Sharell also handed Lucy her cellphone. It was the latest ‘smart phone’ and she had barely learned a few of the apps it could perform.
She lay on a bed in a room paid for by her new employer, next to a tempting fast food restaurant and across from the park that would taunt her with a last bribe to back out. If she was not standing under the motel awning in front of the office, the limo would simply drive on to its mysterious destination.
Sharell had no family to say goodbye to. This had been a major plus on her application. Crazy shit… like owning no property, no long-term employment or relationships… shit most employers looked for. These all checked on the plus side of her application, like admirable qualities and references. Major warning, and one she missed. Instead, the ordered control of the divesting list and the twice weekly letters offered her reassurances, ticking their own countdown towards the exciting changes in store for her.
Click. Ten minutes to takeoff. Better decide.
Sharell glanced at the red numbers. “I’m not changing my mind. I’d be nuts to turn down this much money.”
After five more clicks, she rose to use the bathroom. The young woman in the mirror had not changed. Maybe, there was a touch more anxiety edging the anticipation in the green eyes, but not much.
Sharell reached for the suitcase and turned to study the room. She had left nothing behind. Actually, she had left quite a lot. Her toothbrush, toiletries, and hairbrush sat on the counter, but they were not on the divesting list of items she could take. The click of the black box… they search for survivors with black boxes .
Sharell glared at the clock and lifted her chin. “I’m not backing out.” She walked into the sunshine, glanced at the blue sky, and strode to the awning. The long black car pulled up before she set her bag down. There was no
It was all an illusion. Even her decision to take this job had kept her awake, wondering if it was the right course. She had hoped Barry would grow some balls and demand she change her mind. Instead, he seemed more excited about getting his hands on the title to her truck.
She crossed the street to her motel room. It had the nondescript look all rooms for under fifty dollars shared. Oversized flowers splashed across the double bedspread and curtains, and anything able to be carried was screwed or bolted down. This seemed ironic, as Sharell’s occupation was construction when she grew tired of slinging drinks. She could easily remove any questionably valuable trinket she wanted, but who in hell would steal a picture of a badly reproduced masterpiece or an antiquated television that needed a three foot pedestal to support it?
Still, she could steal them. She could use the telephone on the desk and call a friend to drive her back to the sane, normal world. Sharell still had control. She could still change her mind. At least, that was what she told herself.
The clock clicked on the nightstand tapping a countdown. She had thirty minutes. This sounded better than a mere half hour. Sharell lay back on the gaudy bedspread and stared at the ceiling, calming her nerves by looking for patterns in the popcorn.
What she did not realize was that she had lost control of the situation long before Barry drove off in her ’72 cherry red pickup truck. Sharell had gone through Manerea’s list, divesting herself of worldly possessions except for the acceptable items that fit into the single suitcase they gave her. She had plenty of warnings. Giving up her apartment, selling her furniture, and driving a few boxes of mementoes to Lucy’s house where she stashed them in the attic, away from her kids. Sharell also handed Lucy her cellphone. It was the latest ‘smart phone’ and she had barely learned a few of the apps it could perform.
She lay on a bed in a room paid for by her new employer, next to a tempting fast food restaurant and across from the park that would taunt her with a last bribe to back out. If she was not standing under the motel awning in front of the office, the limo would simply drive on to its mysterious destination.
Sharell had no family to say goodbye to. This had been a major plus on her application. Crazy shit… like owning no property, no long-term employment or relationships… shit most employers looked for. These all checked on the plus side of her application, like admirable qualities and references. Major warning, and one she missed. Instead, the ordered control of the divesting list and the twice weekly letters offered her reassurances, ticking their own countdown towards the exciting changes in store for her.
Click. Ten minutes to takeoff. Better decide.
Sharell glanced at the red numbers. “I’m not changing my mind. I’d be nuts to turn down this much money.”
After five more clicks, she rose to use the bathroom. The young woman in the mirror had not changed. Maybe, there was a touch more anxiety edging the anticipation in the green eyes, but not much.
Sharell reached for the suitcase and turned to study the room. She had left nothing behind. Actually, she had left quite a lot. Her toothbrush, toiletries, and hairbrush sat on the counter, but they were not on the divesting list of items she could take. The click of the black box… they search for survivors with black boxes .
Sharell glared at the clock and lifted her chin. “I’m not backing out.” She walked into the sunshine, glanced at the blue sky, and strode to the awning. The long black car pulled up before she set her bag down. There was no
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