The Watch (short story I wrote for school)

	He pulled the sytrofoam cup to his chapped lips and took a drink. The warm coffee engulfed his throat with the beautiful poison keeping him awake on a morning like this. The morning dew barely left traces of its beauty as he scanned over the desolate park. His weary eyes didn’t see much but his knowledge helped him fill in the gaps. He was nearing the ripe old age of 60 but he sure didn’t feel it. At least, not now; he was too happy. He looked around again before taking another long drag from his bitter black beverage. He glanced at his scratched up watch and took note that he had a few more minutes of the pure bliss before him. He chuckled out loud, knowing full well that the watch stopped working a while ago. He just assumed it was time to go and he took another long sip of the warm coffee before sighing, this was going to be a long day. 

	The wise but old man started walking to the gate of the park with his briefcase loyally at his side. He crossed the park, getting his worn shoes wet but the he didn’t care; the morning dew was a rare occurrence in this busy city. He reached the edge of the park and left, throwing away his empty cup and mentally preparing himself for the day before him. As he walked along the empty sidewalks, he couldn’t help but admire the true beauty of the city before him. He had seen the city too many times to admire skyscrapers reaching toward the sky, yet he couldn’t help but feel relieved; almost safe. 

	He reached a crosswalk and waited, seeing his destination rise before him. A small woman stopped next to him, talking on the phone with someone about drapes. He couldn’t help but overhear since the young lady was making sure everyone in the city could hear what color her dining room drapes would be. The old man looked both ways before leaving the annoying amateur decorator. He made it four steps, four steps exactly before he heard a loud noise. A noise he knew way before he turned to face the monstrous machine rumbling toward him. His wide eyes couldn’t help but stare as the semi hurtled toward him. He stumbled toward the other of the street before diving out of the way, narrowly missing his inevitable death. He cheated death too many times before; he just didn’t think it would catch up to him this quickly. He stood up and brushed himself off, making sure all his pieces were still attached and healthy. He somewhat chuckled to himself, he couldn’t believe what happened. The lady from across the street was stunned, barely believing herself what just happened. He threw her a quick smile before picking up his briefcase and entering his job. He saw his watch as he opened the door to the superfluous lobby and saw one more scratch added to his timepiece. One more scratch, one more memory, one more wrinkle he laughed to himself.

	The receptionist saw the old man and beckoned him to go sit down and wait for his appointment with the boss. He sat down and eagerly grabbed the nearest magazine he could get his hands on. On the outside he looked nervous, he anxiously kept looking around for someone to break up the awkward silence he was sharing with the receptionist. On the inside he was confident; he knew what he was doing, he’s been doing this for over fifteen years and this was just a part of the act. He was the director of his own play and he had the lines for all the actors. From beginning to end, he controlled the whole play. Except this play was a con. It was somewhat simple, go drink at the bars near the big business buildings. The perfect timing was lunch or an hour or two after businesses closed their white collar doors. He would go make rounds around the bar, being friendly to different groups of people, finding, no…searching for the one person he could instill trust in and reap the benefits for. He would then find a drunk in a suit and buy another round for him and his buddies. Then the waiting game ensued, picking up on subtle hints to project the perfect business plan for their company. Give the business card to the drunken idiot with a monkey suit on and let the rest of the part play out. Wait a couple days and receive a call wanting to get in business. His business was purely artificial, ranging from the fake business cards and the fake website to the fake business plan. He was a confidence man, and he had had fooled everyone from the west coast to the big apple. He was on his last legs and needed one last score to go into retirement for good.

	“Harvey Calvin?” the receptionist asked. I don’t know why she didn’t just stand up and lead the way for the only person in the lobby but the old man nervously stood up, before dropping all the contents in his briefcase. He quickly shuffled on the papers and pens back into the worn leather case and walked toward the desk.
	“Mr. Holloway will see you now.” She smiled, leading the way with her hand toward the elevator. He quickly nodded and quietly made his way toward the elevator.
	“Sir, it’s floor fifteen, room is at the end of the hall.” He replied back with a small thank you but he was well aware where his office was, along with how big it was, security checkpoints were as well as how fast he could get out of there without being seen. He knew they were watching him from the minute he stepped into the building but he knew his little act wasn’t going to be enough.

	He stepped into the elevator and hit the 15th floor button before sighing again. The hard part was coming up and he knew it had to be a homerun or else he would lose all the time and effort he put into this score.  He lost the will to enjoy the con game. It started out fun, scam people out of money through a simple lie and just keeps going along with it. Each con brought more money but more problems. He lost too many things throughout his fifteen year tenure. 

	The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and his weary eyes laid upon an angel. Her dirty blonde hair fell upon her shoulders with time itself stopping gravity from affecting such a fine piece of art. She was busy looking down at the portfolio as she entered the elevator, telling him to go to floor 15 as well. She looked up to say thanks and she froze. Her lips trembled before smiling.
	“William? What are you doing here?” she closed the portfolio and reached for a hug. The old man was reluctant after hearing his real name after a long while. He was caught up in some many aliases he sometimes forgot what his real name was. He accepted the hug before glancing up at the floors and wishing the 15th floor was a lot closer.
	“I’m here for business” he muttered, knowing full well that he wasn’t. He was here to scam the legal pigs out of their pensions for his own retirement. Her smile became less and less as time went on because she knew the truth. 
	“I thought you stopped?” the four words cut through his soul with ice daggers and hit his heart with full force. He stumbled over his words trying to convey that this was the last time and he truly cared for her even since that horrible night eight years ago. All that left his dirty mouth were the words I’m sorry. She scoffed at the response and her warm face turned ice cold and she stared at the elevator doors, waiting for the earliest attempt to leave him once again. The doors opened on floor seven and she rushed out and letting a couple young businessmen in the elevator. His thoughts were clouded as he barley heard the young men tell him floor twelve. 

	He finally made it to his destination and stepped out of the elevator. He completely forgot why he was even there before Mr. Holloway yelled at him from across the entire floor that he was late. He hurried over to the office and he sat down on the uncomfortable chair that the big boss at the corporation made sure was there. Josh Holloway, or Mr. Holloway to many people, was a sick, twisted man. He swindled money out of poor people to finance his second yacht sitting out on the river, just waiting for him after a successful business deal with a nervous amateur with a secret. Holloway treated his employees like dirt, but ensuring them enough money to stay and work for him. He was a cold man with only one goal in mind: money. He beckoned the old amateur in and told him to sit down.

	“We took a look at the investment you offered us last night, and I have to say: we’re not amazed. We’re happy, yes. But amazed? No. You’re plan is brilliant but it needs some tweaking. We cannot offer a big deal unless we start with something small. Low risk might bring us low reward but it will also build a sense of high trust between me and you, Mr. Calvin.” The boss finished his monologue and looked across the rich, walnut desk to the trembling man in the uncomfortable chair. This was his time to shine, the old man thought to himself. He opened his briefcase and handed him a couple papers, detailing what all the rival companies did and explained that what Mr. Holloway wanted to do was safe and low risk but also common. Of course, the papers were all forged. If the boss was smart enough he could call up the New York Stock Exchange and question these numbers and the old man would be thrown out without a moment’s hesitation. But the boss was greedy. He wanted money but above all else; he wanted to be the winner. He wanted to crush his opponents and if his opponents were doing the same thing and barely scraping by, he had two options. The old man knew that this was the worst part of the con because it was all up to Mr. Holloway or any CEO’s to make a moral decision: stay the same course as the rest of his rivals and go low risk and maybe come out on top of his competitors or trust the nervous man and invest a high risk situation for a high reward. 

	“Mr. Holloway, all your competitors did the very exact thing you are about to do. That’s a good idea, it would be better to be on the same level that to fall behind. I’ll talk to the investors and have them set up another $50,000 investment.” The old man was barley done finishing his closing arguments before the boss stopped him. The boss chuckled before telling him that wasn’t necessary. He called his receptionist in and a briefcase. They both knew what the contents had and they both couldn’t be more excited about the transaction between the two. 
“Mr. Calvin, I worked too damn hard to be stagnant with my competitors. I need to be better than them and demolish them in the process.” He opened the briefcase and smiled.
	“Tell your investors to invest $500,000 and make sure we don’t get caught” The old man smiled as he reached across to shake the stupendously stupid boss’s hand. They shook hands and they both smiled, shortly after the old man reassuring him that the return rate will be exponential compared to his competitors. But, before he could leave, the boss had a question.
	“I’m so glad your calm now, but why were you nervous before? You are an excellent sales person. If this deal goes well, I might just get a job with you here.” The old man smiled. He had heard this countless times before and he would always defend his nervousness with how he always dealt with small businesses and never with big corporations with futures. But this time was the response was different. 
	“I was walking this morning and this truck almost hit me. I could’ve died today but what struck me was that there was no moment where I relived all the good moments in my life. There was no time where I saw all the memories from my past and I just felt uneasy.” The old man paused, keeping the small tear in his eye and trying to finish his discussion so he wouldn’t lose the sale. “I guess I thought today was my day of bad luck and I wasn’t going to secure a sale. My boss was disappointed by my numbers and I needed a smart man with money to turn my day around.” The old man smiled. A genuine smile he hadn’t felt in years. The boss walked around the desk, handed the old man the briefcase and assured him that this was the turning point in his life. He was bound to be great someday, this was his day. 
	The old man left the building with the money in tow, ready for his retirement to start. He smiled to himself, tapping the briefcase he worked so hard to achieve. Crossing the street, he realized that he never counted the money; he didn’t even take a look at it making sure it was there. His happiness turned sour as he looked around for somewhere he could count it. He saw a bar about a block away and casually hurried to the door. He rushed through the bar and ran straight for the bathroom. He closed the door and locked it, making sure that no one was in any of the stalls before opening the case and checking the contents. Someone started to walk in and then knocking was heard, signaling him to hurry up. He made sure at least $100,000 was there before he closed the case and unlocked the door. Some old drunk, even though it wasn’t even noon yet, rushed to the urinals as the old man cheerfully left the bathroom.