Another Space Invader timestamp. Are you wondering how in the world Darko and Nigel could run a security company? Well, let’s follow them to a meeting, shall we?
Huge thank you to @chronicopheliac & @wrathofthestag for quality control. And a massive thanks to @plan-d-to-i for Romanian that wasn’t nabbed off of google!
“What are the
rules?” Darko adjusted his tie, a light blue silk that added a pop of color to
his charcoal grey suit. He looked respectable, Cosmo had told him so. Nigel, in
his black suit, black shirt and no tie, looked like a goddamn hood, as usual.
“Do you want
me to call him? Because I fucking will.” Darko dug in his pocket and held up
tattletale.” Nigel grumbled, running his hands through his hair. “You know how
pathetic that is?”
“Almost as pathetic as you being
afraid I’ll do it.” Darko tucked the phone back in his breast pocket. “Now, the
Nigel sighed, stretching his neck.
Darko watched the stripper peak over his collar.
fucking cursing. Two, no physical altercations, even if they’re cunts. Three,
let you do all the talking. Four, don’t make faces when you’re talking.”
“Don’t fucking question the rules.”
Cosmo and Darko had spent an hour
creating the rules after the Nigel’s first pitch meeting had gone…poorly. He
accidentally called the CFO’s wife fat, made fun of the security guards, and
told the office manager he was a twat for making the pin pad wires easily
accessible. Darko had to admit that Nigel was right, but he also wasn’t surprised
when his follow-up call was ignored.
Darko pulled at Nigel’s shirt, fastening
the open collar buttons. He still looked like he was selling coke, but at least now he looked like an upscale dealer.
“If you want
to clear $800 grand a year, we fucking need this company, nenorocitule. Think of all the
mac n cheese you could buy Cosmo. Don’t fuck it up.”
Nigel rolled his eyes. Darko sighed and
headed toward the building. He really wanted this contract. If they cleared
this, then he would be set for years. Nigel would be set for years. Maybe Darko
wouldn’t have to worry so much about his staff, Cosmo, and his best fucking
friend. This contract meant no more grumbling about drug money being better, no
more field stripping guns in his boxers at 3 in the morning, and maybe a Cosmo
of his own, with a nice ass, big tits, and smiling eyes – someone to come home to besides
He glanced to
his left, Nigel was strolling through the lobby glancing around like he was
casing the joint. The rent-a-cop behind the security desk glared at them,
picking up the phone to make a call. Nigel caught the guy’s eye and sneered.