Enter the Villain

A Chapter by The Lost Ghost

The Lost Ghost tells how he came to work for Tim Gelsomino.

THE LOST GHOST
Book 1 Chapter 3

As I scarfed down the food on my plate like a wolf devouring his kill, I could see Tim glancing around the cafe, nervously checking to see if anyone was looking at him. He didn't want people thinking negatively of him for dining with a homeless man, especially one that smelled like garbage and rotting food. He did have an image to uphold, after all. Tim came from money. His father was an entrepreneur that made millions early in life. Tim never wanted for anything. He went to the finest schools, drove the nicest cars. He was a frat boy, spiked up hair in the front, worked out, tanned, reeked of Ax body spray, and very proud of his Italian heritage, (and not afraid to remind you of it.) He was into power moves; he'd shake your hand with two hands, his hand on top of yours, just to subtlety show dominance. Even though he constantly checked his phone like a high school teenager, he was interested on what had happened to me and what had led up to me being where I was. Business always came first for him. His eyes were consistently darting between me and his phone, like a cartoon character watching a ping pong match. His tone was almost that of a parent or a psychologist. His responses ranged from simple, "uh huh's" , to an almost over exaggerated "wow, that's really rough. I'm sorry to hear that!" In another life, he'd be an ideal car salesman. Or politician. "Hearing your story, knowing your set of skills, I might have a job for you." he offered.

I never said I was looking for one, but Tim was always scouting for someone to make him more money. "Oh, really?" I responded, not fully aware of what I was getting into. "You see, my competitors have recently released some new products that seem overwhelmingly similar to my own. Now, I'm not saying they stole anything, but if there was a way to check out their design specs, I'd be able to verify if I've been a victim of corporate espionage. Plus, it'd make sure that they weren't too close to my intellectual properties, capiche?" he said, gesturing like a movie mob boss, bad accent and all. "So you want me to spy, you mean?" I point blankly asked him. "Whoa, whoa, big guy, no one said those words, but if you could procure that information, I'd gladly compensate you." he informed me. I had no problem with being a spy. I worked for and with spies in my previous life. It took me all of five seconds to agree to it, to take him up on this position. He handed me a business card and a wad full of cash. "Meet me at my office tomorrow. But get cleaned up first, okay?" he said, while palming the cash so no one could see the transaction. We shook hands, then he made a lame excuse as to why he had to leave abruptly. I ordered another plate of hot food, then made my way to the nearest hotel, ordered a luxury suite with the money he gave me, and slept better than I had in a long time.

That night, I had dreams of money, adventure, excitement. I realize now how foolish I was, wishing I had never agreed to meet him the next day. I wouldn't be where I am now, crawling out of an office air ventilation shaft, covertly making my way to the elevator, silent as a shadow. Security has cleared out and I should be able to make it to the door. Once I open it, I can scale the cables to the next location, the top floor, where Tim's office is located. As I head to my exit, the elevator starts moving, the hum of the weights and pulleys growing, matching the pulse of my quickening heartbeat. Time slows to a crawl as the elevator comes to a stop. The doors open, revealing its cargo, a unit of elite troops, armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, laser pointers centering all on me. There's no way above to run to, no escape behind me. I can't go around this time. My only path is straight through them....

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