The Billionaire's Driver (COMING SOON)

02 | Extortion and Collateral

"Jackson, if you think that I would wait until stock prices to fall to take action, you might as well hand in your resignation immediately," my wonderful new passenger hollered tenderly, down the phone.

That was all he had done since before I could even pull away from the curb.

I had already received a few verses of 'I'm not particularly interested in the time zone, wake them up' with a few remixes of 'it is a wonder that you manage to clothe yourself in the correct order, considering this incompetence' and some features of 'Windom is up to no good and I'm getting to the bottom of it'.

His conversations were so lively and interesting that I turned the radio up by about negative ten to hear him better.

I was waiting to hear him say my current favourite phrase: "You would have to reimburse me for the oxygen I waste remarking on your idiocy."

He was definitely my favourite businessman that I'd ever driven, not counting that portable blender salesman who was so zealous about his sales that he almost made me a smoothie on the go.

The guy was clearly frustrated, despite not showing it too much. His brows were permanently furrowed, like that's all they knew how to do now.

Finally, he said, "File that transaction debtors and file yourself under incompetence" and hung up with a flourish.

"Bad day at work, dude?" I ventured.

Wolf of Wall Street's head turned in my direction with curious wonder almost like he had forgotten I was even there, despite the fact that I'm the one driving.

Eyebrows contracted, he blinked at me for a long silent moment and said, decidedly, "No."

I slammed my foot down on the accelerator and made a light. "You sure, dude? You seem stressed."

His frown deepened, almost like he hadn't understood what I said.

I only caught his change subtle change of expression because I looked in the rearview mirror at the perfect moment to see a yellow cab trying to outrun me, along with his face.

Then, like he was some sort of statesman, the guy said, "I am perfectly capable of handling all my business. Stress is not in my vocabulary."

"I'll lend you my dictionary," I said to him, "But the word's definitely in the vocabulary of your shoulders, just FYI."

Like a ray of moonshine, he glowered at me and I had to smile.

It was only when I sneakily looked at him again that I saw him roll his shoulders.

"I saw that," I chortled.

Pulling his briefcase on to his lap and clasping his hands over it, he said, "I would prefer if you used your eyes for observing traffic rather that the state of my limbs."

I was about to tell him that my eyes are perfectly capable of multitasking, especially to take in the obviously tensed state of his shoulders, when his phone rang again.

"Did you manage to get through to Russel?" he asked into the phone, "Jackson, just answer my question." Quiet. "The next time you call me, kindly have gotten through to his office. I am deathly uninterested in anything else at the moment."

This time, after he hung up, he slid his phone into the inner breast pocket of his suit.

"That's not good for your heart, you know," I cautioned.

Withdrawing his hand from his pocket sans phone, he eyed me before I had to look away to switch lanes and overtake the absolute steam engine in front of me.