Free Nowhere by Joshua David Page A

cigars permeated the old asbestos laden walls, or the dingy mildew that grew between the grout lines of the old black slate tiles. Whatever it was that contributed to it, the entire office had the lingering scent of freshly picked boogers and it always made Richard’s stomach upset to be in there too long.
                  Victor stood up and looked out his studio office window at the belt workers down below. The parcel trucks were backing in and within minutes the belt would have to start. Handlers in handling crews would cull the boxes from the giant semis they arrived on like miners excavating a steel cave. Then the belt would carry the packages down to the sorters who would distribute the packages on either side of the belt depending on their final delivery location. Richard was a loader, the last stage of the sorting process. The loaders would eye individual packages coming down the belt and pull the ones that went onto their trucks. Richard was good with numbers and good at quickly sorting numbers and letters in order in his trucks. Therefore he got two trucks, one for the highway that ran through the county with addresses ranging from 501 to 18796, the other truck was for the mall, which Richard knew would all show up as 2223 Post Oak, but would all carry an additional suite number that had to be sorted by a secondary method that would correspond to their actual storefront location in the mall. He knew that his driver ‘Sunshine’ as the crews called him would want them to be sorted differently if the stores had rear access hallways which would make delivery quicker and more efficient. Richard knew this and he knew that Tucker most likely did not. No, Tucker was probably feeling the wrath of old Sunshine at this point.
                  Victor lit his cigar and stoked it in short powerful breaths till it glowed a bright amberous red at the end. He stared out the window.
                  “You can’t smoke in here…” Richard said. "It’s against policy."
                  Victor shot an evil eye Richards direction. “You really feel comfortable talking to me about policy right now Rich? You really think that’s in your best interest?” Victor stared at Richard and Richard could only stare defiantly back at Victor’s cigar. “You can take it up with the Union then. I smoke when I’m having a crummy day, Richard, and right now I’m having a series of crummy days that are proving to be a crummy week. I don’t need you to talk to me about what’s against policy when we’re having a save your skin conversation!”
                  He looked back out the window. The big red clock above the belt said 2:42 in large digital numbers.
                  “Ultimately Rich, you’re a Union man, same as me, and I can’t go firing you for having issues. Everyone’s got issues too Richard. Promise me you’ll work at cleaning yours up so we don’t find ourselves in this situation again. Kapeesh?”
                  Richard nodded.
     
    2:43 AM
     
                  “Now get out there and tell Tucker that Vick said it wasn’t working out on mornings. Tell him to go home and come back at evening shift. I’ll give you your mornings back." Vick turned back towards Richard and pointed a fat stubby finger at him. "Show me you can be relied on again and I’ll put you back on evenings too. Like I say, I can’t fire you for having outside issues, but just make sure you don’t give me any reasons that I can fire you. You got it?”
     
    2:44 AM
     
                  Richard nodded again and stood up to leave. As he did, he noticed two men in the hallway outside of Vick’s office. How they had gotten there, Richard, didn’t know, but they were there waiting when he left. They were tall and thinly built, and both wore matching grey suits. One carried a black briefcase and the other carried a manila folder with papers