No Inertia Here
J.D. Daniels


 “How’re you doing?”

“I’m up a few hundred.  Fingers crossed.”

Damon, the casino manager, gave the gambler a tap on the shoulder and moved on.  The place was hopping this afternoon.  He grabbed a glass of water from a passing tray, nodded to the waitress and sipped.  His head throbbed.

On the way to work, his Beemer spun out of control on a patch of ice and twirled like a toy top.  He’d been slammed so hard in the opposite direction, the weight of his body snapped the door open and he’d been thrown from the car.  He rubbed his ass.  No fun, that.

“Hey, Damon.  Got time?”  His new hire, Sondra  Miller didn’t look like she’d had a hot time in the old town today either. “Come back to the office.”

He sat at his desk.  She sat opposite.  He knew she was the type of woman who wasted no time with chit chat.  He liked that.  Time was money.   Money was power.

“I’m going to come right out with it,” she said.  “I need a raise.”

A raise?  During the recession?  She should be lucky to have a job.  He looked aghast.

She wasn’t having any.  “Take a look out that window, mister.” She leaned right.  Her look forced him to lean left.  “Does the size of that crowd say you can’t afford to give me a raise?” 

Was this centrifugal force times two, or what?  “God, my ass hurts.” Sondra grinned.  


First published: May, 2010
comments to the writer: doorknobsandbodypaint@gmail.com