Money Is No Object

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Finding out money is no object could kill you.

Submitted: June 21, 2017

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Submitted: June 21, 2017

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“You are the fucking bane of my existence you motherfucker” Jayden said as he stopped abruptly at the traffic lights again behind that truck.

Jayden had told everyone who was coming to his dinner, all 7 of his VIP (Vastly Inferior Peon) guests, that his table was the only one of the four Parnian Desk Dining Tables in the world to reside in Los Angeles. He followed this up with a little quip of his own contrivance which went “How we love it when one is be spoke of my bespoke objet d’arts”. The pure fact this was a misuse of the term “bespoke” did not bother him as he soon learned to only use the saying with people less intelligent than him. Surprisingly plentiful in number in west L.A., these people were either too brainless to remark back or too fearful. Either way it had become Jayden’s premier quip over the summer season.

Yet Jayden had a problem. He could not say to his guests: “you know what, the top of the table isn’t quite ready yet. The Carpathian elm has to complete 17 treatments. Does anyone really care? No? Well good, you ingrates can manage on a dining table that isn’t complete and costs less than four hundred thousand dollars”. But he couldn’t. For Jayden sitting with the top down in his champagne gold, Rolls Royce Phantom convertible, having the complete Parnian Desk Dining Table, perhaps the only one in California come to think of it, now became essential. His life’s work. His mission. Next week it would be replaced by something equally frivolous, but for now, he needed a Carpathian elm dining table top.

Being the genius that he was, Jayden had located a local, yet still elusive, stockist. He was now close to their shop where the unique table was waiting for him. He could give his approval to the manufacturing process and still be back in Hidden Hills just in time to let the caterers in, and out, to pretend he had done the cooking. But he was still behind this fucking truck. A dirty, nasty vehicle that must be operated by some South American. The GPS told him he was three miles from his destination, yet this road would not become any wider at any point. Jayden knows he’s forced to trundle along behind this truck.

Jayden’s car phone rang. It was the Faunus factory shop. “Yes, what is it?”
“Good afternoon, Sir. There is a slight problem with your table top, Sir. We are a little short of raw materials and have had to request more wood. It’s a very special wood, the Carpathian elm, as I’m sure you’ll be aware. We have shipped it in especially for you from the original Parnian factory in Scottsdale, Arizona. As soon as it arrives we can complete your order.”

Jayden stopped him there and started screaming: “You told me you had it in stock. Do you know who I am? I could have you murdered. Or fed to the great white sharks in the Channel Islands. How can you run a business on lies?”

Jayden could not have him murdered or fed to sharks. Surely someone at the club would have staff who would know someone who he could pay. Like some lunatic who could do it theoretically.

“Well, if you killed me because I failed to complete the finish of the only Parnian Desk Dining Table east of the Mississippi (Jayden couldn’t fail to be more impressed with his purchase), we would have your contact details, this would be my last phone call and you would do twenty-five years. The delivery men are bringing it now. They have been on a 14 hour round trip to comply with our standards. We demand the best - because our customers want the best.”

“I know about your wood, you fool. I need my table now. How long will it take?”

Jayden realised he had scared nobody.

“A couple of hours. The pieces are ready, they just need glueing and setting according to Parnian standards. Providing nothing goes wrong we will deliver the table to your home by 7 o’clock”.

Jayden suddenly ended the call as he realised the disgusting truck impeding his progress was the same truck containing the wood that would save his dinner party. He relaxed a little, knowing overtaking would hasten nothing. He listened to the audio description of Carpathian elm coming from his car stereo for tranquillity and closed his eyes.

The truck went over a large pothole in the road that caused the back door to jolt open. The plank of 17-times treated Carpathian elm shot out of the back of the truck, through Jayden’s windshield and smashed his skull into eight, equal Parnian Desk Dining Table shaped pieces.

 


© Copyright 2017 Thom Goddard. All rights reserved.

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