Rigged
“As he moved deeper into the Starbucks, eliciting a familiar nod from the Goth chick behind the counter, he let the dim lighting and soft, canned mood music calm his frayed nerves. He navigated past the few customers who were indulging their caffeine-junkie needs and took his customary table in the back corner of the café.
Once seated, he forced his body to relax—his fingers laced together on the table in front of him—and tried to order his thoughts. Maybe his mind truly had been playing tricks ...on him. Maybe he had misinterpreted the entire incident. Maybe he had been mistaken: perhaps the man in the zebra jacket had actually been one of Gallo’s traders, just one David had never met before. Sure, the guy’s jacket didn’t fit, and he had tried to grab David’s arm—but only after David had nearly decked the fucker with his shoulder.
And even though Reston had finally responded when David was in the cab on the way to the Starbucks, saying that he’d never sent the original text, at worst, that only meant that someone had been playing a practical joke on David.MoreLess
Once seated, he forced his body to relax—his fingers laced together on the table in front of him—and tried to order his thoughts. Maybe his mind truly had been playing tricks ...on him. Maybe he had misinterpreted the entire incident. Maybe he had been mistaken: perhaps the man in the zebra jacket had actually been one of Gallo’s traders, just one David had never met before. Sure, the guy’s jacket didn’t fit, and he had tried to grab David’s arm—but only after David had nearly decked the fucker with his shoulder.
And even though Reston had finally responded when David was in the cab on the way to the Starbucks, saying that he’d never sent the original text, at worst, that only meant that someone had been playing a practical joke on David.MoreLess
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