Esteban sat at an empty desk in his office, searching the web and load-boards on his computer.
“Another denied load of freight; that’s just perfect.”
Esteban shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Starting this trucking company was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” He spoke to himself. “I swear, I should’ve listened to all of the people that told me to be a regular W2 employee…”
Esteban was suddenly interrupted by his office phone ringing, and he let out a sigh and picked it up.
“Hello, Mr. Caslow, I hear that you’re new in town and a bit down on your luck as of late.” Said a voice on the other line.
“Thanks, pal… I really needed to be reminded.” Said Esteban in a sarcastic tone.
“Hey, hey, I’m not here to gloat or make light of your bad situation, kid…”
“I’m not your kid, bud. Now if you don’t have anything important to say…”
“Oh, but I do, I…”
“Look, buddy, I’m sure you mean well and everything, but I’ve been online all day trying to get myself a load booked and I’m trying to keep this line free so that someone can call…”
“And so, I have, son. My name is Mason Adams, I’m a broker for a group of big named guys who… you could kinda say run this town.” Said the voice.
“I’m listening.” Esteban replied.
“That’s good, son, because I have a load for you to pick up and deliver for me; I need a load of yard trucks picked up at Walden and taken to Voltic Motors in Reno; can you do that for me?”
“What’s the pay, friend?” asked Esteban
“I’ll make a deal with you: the expected trip time is 9 hours, 56 minutes. Now Esteban, I hear that you have a reputation for being fast so, how fast do you think you can get it there?
Esteban thought for a moment. “Shave 2 hours off of that time, easily.”
“By the time they get you loaded, your estimated arrival will be at 1:17 AM; what is your quoted time?” said Adams.
“11:17pm tonight.” Esteban replied.
Adams laughed. “Son, if you can get it there by then, I’ll make it worth your while; Esteban, if you can get it there earlier than that, I’ll more than make it worth your while, even if it’s only 1 minute earlier; I’ve got a lot riding on this.”
It didn’t take Esteban very long to get over to Walden, attaching his giant semi-truck to the already loaded trailer and then pulling away with a load of yard-trucks.
Once on the highway, Esteban reached up and grabbed his CB microphone and spoke.
“Breaker 1-9 for the Wheels of Wisdom and the Roadmaster; Jim, Statler, either of you guys out there today, come back?”
“This is the Wheels of Wisdom, Esteban.” said Jim’s voice over the CB speaker.
“And I’m here too.” said Statler’s raspy voice after.
“I finally got a break, you guys.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” Said Jim.
Esteban nodded as he stepped down on the accelerator pedal and sped up to around 100 mph before setting the cruise control on the truck.
“Yeah, said his name was Adams; you ever heard of him?”
Jim’s voice came back over the CB speaker, the man laughing before replying.
“Broker Mason Adams? Yeah, he’s part of the High Stakes Vegas Underground, they’re a group of gamblers that bet against company owners, or as they call them: company men.”
“They bet?” asked Esteban.
“Yeah, each of these brokers have a roster of drivers and they all bet the company men that their drivers can make delivery before the time the company men quote. The company men give a time, and the Broker, in conjunction with one of their drivers, give another time that’s sooner, even if just by a minute. If the driver gets it there in that time, it’s big money for the Broker.”
“And if they can’t?” asked Esteban.
Jim laughed again. “Then the company men get the freight for free.”
“Yeah, you better be careful, Esteban: working for the Vegas Underground can be really rewarding, but it also has its risks.” Statler added.
Esteban nodded and reached up to reply when he saw a pair of red and blue police lights in his mirror and heard a voice on his CB radio that stated.
“I’ve got you, driver! Pull that big purple truck over and step out of the vehicle with your hands up: I’m taking you in for reckless driving!”
“Officer Dag Smith is that you?” asked Esteban.
“Yes it is, Esteban, and I’ve got you now! Pull that rig over and step out with your hands up!”
Esteban laughed as he keyed the CB mic once more.
“You’ll have to catch me first, Smith.”
“Calling all officers! Calling all officers! I’m in pursuit of a large purple semi-truck headed north on US-95! Requesting immediate assistance.”
Esteban stepped down harder on his accelerator, whipping his rig past cars and other trucks, all of the drivers egging him on. Esteban then looked over at 2 passing semis as he rode along the berm of the highway.
The pudgy Black man who drove the big red rig in the right lane smiled and tipped his hat at Esteban then gave him a wink.
It was all the assurance Esteban needed, he quickly sped out in front of them, and the two other drivers stopped, with the Black driver steering his truck over to block the berm, bringing the officer to a stop behind them.
“Sorry officer, our rigs are both out of order: we’ll have to wait for the techs to come check’em out.” Said the Black man with a laugh.
Esteban pulled his rig and freight into Voltic Motors right at 11:17, and he made his way inside, sitting in front of a tall, heavy-set, gray-haired and bearded Company Man named Brock Hendricks.
“We really weren’t expecting you here so fast, Steve.”
Esteban shrugged. “Traffic was light on the way up.”
Hendricks shook his head. “Cut all that, son, I’ve known you for a long time and I know what’s going on here. You were approached, weren’t you?”
Esteban shook his head. “Approached?”
“Look, Steve, the last thing you want to do is get mixed up with the Vegas Underground; why don’t you come to work for me? I can give you good benefits, retirement…”
Esteban grabbed his paperwork off of Hendricks’ desk and tipped his red felt fedora at him.
“I’ll think about it Brock.”
“You do that, son, and remember what I said.” Said Hendricks.
Once back in his semi-truck, Esteban’s cellphone began ringing and he quickly answered it, hearing Broker Mason Adams on the other line.
“Good job, Mr. Caslow; I just talked to Hendricks and received payment, and if you look down at your tablet, I sent you your share.”
Esteban picked up the tablet, his face showing a look of shock as he suddenly dropped it to the floor. Then, he picked it up, rubbed his eyes and looked at the number again.
“Read that number off to me, Mr. Caslow.” Said Adams calmly.
“250,000 dollars.” Esteban replied.
“That’s right, and there’s a lot more where that came from.” Said Adams with a chuckle. “Stay by your phone and I’ll call you again in the morning.”
Esteban nodded his understanding, still staring down at the deposit amount.
“Yes sir.”
Appalachian Post 
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