Out of the Streets, Into the Warm

The car finally halted at the end of the long driveway. The burly man exited from the driver's side and made his way round the vehicle. As the door beside Fiend popped open, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. His headache had been too much and he was hoping the concoction of painkillers would ease the pain before his big meeting. Unfortunately, they hadn't worked but he couldn't wait any longer, it was time. He exited the vehicle and wiped his hands down the front of his Sunday best. Ensuring the few specks of dust he'd acquired on his journey were removed from the rich fabric, he straightened himself up and ascended up the steps to the large doorway.

Before he could even lift his hand to rattle his knuckles against the glass, the door slowly opened to present a short man with the wildest moustache he'd seen. "I'm Fiend," his little voice squeaked. "Morgaine said, err..." he offered the scrap of paper he'd previously acquired and a nervous smile. Stepping out of the way, the well-dressed attendant invites him in with the wave of his arm before closing the door behind them. With the man scurrying off, Fiend stood alone and awkward in the doorway, his head rolling around his shoulders as his eyes surveyed the room. He'd never seen such beautiful decoration and furniture. He'd had your typical Detroit upbringing and there wasn't much vintage furniture in that background.

However, today was his chance to make something more of himself irrespective of life's struggles of the past. He was beyond all of that now. It really was your traditional mobster story - one guy and his dreams. He had all the usual aspirations and for when those aspirations became stress, he had stress-relievers. Life was on the up! His brain jumped from happy self-praising to instant fear as a tall man - a new face, appeared from a doorway across the hall.

"Fiend?" the man asked, clearly already aware of the answer.
Fiend gulped in an attempt to swallow the lump that had formed deep within his throat before speaking, "Yes sir. That's me."
"Come with me." The two of them disappeared into the nearby room.

Fiend never spoke of what was said or what happened in that room. The young associate simply exited a brief while later and left the building. Only once he was comfortably in the back of the chauffeur's ride did he find the balls to catch his breath. He'd just found himself face-to-face with one of Detroit's biggest heads and now all he had to do was sell a package without fucking up. It was that simple... Prove his worth and sell the package, or skip town and hide in shame. 

With that thought clouding his brain, he prepared a bump of medication and spent the rest of his journey toying with ideas.