Esteban listened as the phone rang through, yawning as he looked out the windshield of his rig, watching as people walked around the parking lot of the large truck stop, the smell of diesel and exhaust filling his nostrils; that smell never bothered him though, it was warm, it was comforting, it was like home.
“This is Adams; talk to me.” Said the Broker in his trans-Atlantic accent.
“You told me to call you today?” asked Esteban with a sleepy but amused chuckle.
“Ah, yes… Mr. Caslow; how could I forget?”
“Shoot, that just comes with age, Mason.” Esteban quipped.
Broker Mason Adams laughed. “You’re not wrong, kid, you’re not wrong. But it just so happens that I didn’t forget about you, Mr. Caslow. No, I could never forget someone as talented as you are, my new and most appreciated friend.”
“Well, I’m happy that I could be a sticking memory in a seemingly, diminishing mind, Adams. What are you wasting my time with today?” asked Esteban and his massive semi-truck rumbled underneath him.
“Right! Straight to business! See, kid, this is what I love about you so much, you always cut straight to the chase. Now this is big, Esteban, really big, but it’s also something that you have to stay hush hush about, alright? Only certain people can know, and you have to make sure that they’re people you can trust.” Said Adams in a secretive tone.
Esteban nodded and yawned again as he replied.
“I’m all ears and sealed lips.”
Broker Adams laughed again.
“HA HA! I love it! Now! The only reason I’m telling you this is because of the story you told me last night, son. I usually bless a man one time and then cut my losses, but you, you seem like someone who’s had enough of the system and this good for nothing government that we have looming over us from day to day.”
Esteban shrugged, frowning slightly.
“The government hasn’t done anything except screw me over and leave me dependent on other people my whole life; when my wife and I were both broke and needed money for food, they told us we didn’t even make enough per month to qualify for EBT, now tell me how that makes any sense?”
“Yeah, so they’ve played you: now you get to play them.” Adams snapped.
“And how is it that I get to do that?” asked Esteban.
“Very easily,” said Adams. “you just leave it to me; I have a deal for you. I work for a group that runs an underground gambling ring here in Vegas; it’s a group that we refer to as ‘The Bosses’ and they’re in charge of a group of elite Truckers known as ‘The Underworld Drivers.’
“What, is that like some kind of union or something?” asked Esteban sarcastically.
Broker Adams laughed. “Not quite, kid: now listen. The Bosses are rivaled by another group that call themselves ‘The Company Men,’ a group of business owners, some of which you have met. Now theses bosses enlist several brokers, like me, to work as middlemen between them and the company men. Basically, the bosses find the loads, they hand them down to us, and we find the drivers. See, the deal is simple: a certain amount is put on the line by the businessmen and they give a time that it has to be delivered by, this is the time estimated that it will take to deliver the load. The bosses then pass it off to one of their brokers, the broker then passes it off to their driver, and the driver quotes an earlier time which is their estimated exact time: if the driver succeeds, then the bosses get their money; if the driver fails, the businessmen get their freight for free, simple as that. Every driver gets a 10% cut of the of the betted amount plus a bonus for being early or right on their quoted time.”
“So, where do I fit into this?” asked Esteban.
Broker Adams chuckled. “I’m their new broker, that means I have to find myself a driver and you could be it.”
“Could be?” asked Esteban.
“You are my pick, Mr. Caslow, but the bosses all get to pick, as well as the other brokers on this team; as such, the Kingpin, who is a kind of figure that runs this whole operation, has determined that a competition must be held. I want to get you into that competition, Esteban, but the only way that we can get you qualified to even try out is if you can impress the bosses today. What do you say?”
Esteban paused, stared out the window, shook his head and thought. All his life he’d been stuck under the thumb of others: government, bosses; he’d been blacklisted for years for quitting his first trucking job. When he’d put in his notice, the safety manager of the major company had put him down as ‘terminated for safety reasons.’ Now, here he was, in his own truck, fighting for his life, his house, and even the truck he was sitting in. So, the choice was clear for him, and he nodded once, a look of determination on his face.
“What do I have to do?”
There was a second or two of silence as Esteban listened to (what sounded like) Adams rummaging through papers, then the broker spoke. “Go and pick up a preloaded trailer and drop it at its destination before the required estimated time and then do the same with another preloaded trailer that you’ll pick up at the drop location. The company man already knows you’re coming and what trailer to give you; do this and I’ll have no problem getting you into the try outs. Oh! One last thing, I’m going to send you the profiles of all the other drivers that are running against you, if you see any of them out there on the road: eliminate them by crashing into them and disabling their vehicles, that will help your chances.”
“Sounds good to me, Adams: you send me the dispatch and the GPS locations, and I promise I won’t disappoint you.” Said Esteban, the inner-rage of bottled emotions and hard trials present in his voice.
Adams laughed again. “Oh, my boy: we are going to dominate this competition.”
Appalachian Post 
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