Late again. Sid checked his watch for the fourth time in under five minutes, glancing up at the large digital clock displayed against a nearby shop front store window. Though the frequency of Michael’s questionable punctuality in the past had led him to expect nothing less. Things could not have changed much from their adolescent life growing up together. But today was different. He had a “day out of hell” penned out at work, starting with a board meeting at ten sharp. He shifted with discomfort upon the uneven seat, which appeared to mould his buttocks into the curvature of the hard plastic surface beneath. A low growl of frustration left his lips as the waitress returned once more.
”Would you like to place your order now, sir?” She asked with a mild yet courteous smile.
”Just give me a few more minutes, if you please.” He requested back to her, in the same manner.
”OK, sir. But our policy does state that…”
”I know, I know." He snapped. "These chairs are only reserved for customers. Well, don't I look like I’m good for a few measly bucks? You tell me?” She eyed him from the bottom up, starting with his designer Stefano Bemer leather loafers and working her way up to the gold-plated gleaming Rolex strapped around his wrist. However Sid was certain these fine detailed subtleties of life were lost on her simple, cluttered mind.
”Look, I’m waiting on a friend. Just gimme a minute, OK?” He continued, brushing away a lock of hair off his forehead. ”He will turn up. And after that, I promise you. I’ll give you the best order of breakfast this side of town. Maybe I'll even make it worth your while.” He flashed a gleaming set of perfect teeth at her to which the waitress raised an eyebrow. ”Fine. But if the manager catches me doing favours for patreons while on duty, I’ll be right deep in it. I hope you understand, sir.”
Why don’t you do me a favour and suck me off right here under this table, he thought to himself. A shallow smirk broke out on his face, though the waitress had already decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and was hastening off to attend to an elderly gentlemen sitting two tables away.
The sea of human ants scuttling through the large foyer of the De La Hest hotel building had all but disappeared. Activity was down to a family of tourists studying a huge, unfolded map, with the assistance of their kids propping it up from below and three desk clerks each busying themselves with a flimsy stack of A4 sheet reports. It was then that a scraggy looking figure approached. He wore a long, blemished raincoat and New York Yankees baseball cap swivelled the other way around. His stained white sneakers had both tongues flopping over the hems of his faded jeans and he seemed to lope rather than walk to the table. Sid shook his head in dismay at the primitive, neanderthalic appearance of his younger brother. The only person he could call his own kin that he had left in the world.
”Hey, bro!” He called out, giving his head a quick upward flick before slumping down into the seat opposite. ”Sorry I was late. I overslept again and was halfway down the stairs when I realised I forgot to feed Sparkie so…”
”I couldn’t care less, Mike.” He interjected, scowling at him whilst shaking his head. ”Look at the state of you. When was the last time you took a proper bath? You must stink something chronic under those clothes.”
Michael lifted up one arm, putting his nose to the side and inhaled hard for several seconds. “I dunno. Smells alright to me. Or have I been like this for so long that my nasal sensory glands have imploded?”
Sid pushed forward with a swift motion, leaning across his side of the table. ”Cut the shit. We got ten minutes.” He lowered his tone, checking for a moment over Michael’s shoulder and seeing the waitresses head down, counting through a small wad of cash behind the register. “Your last power down must have finished at exactly 4.06am last night. That’s a total of 1.3 million steem that's sitting liquid in there. Now I’ve got my phone ready with the QR code. So can we just do the transaction and then I can get the hell out of here and back to daily life?”
Michael looked about the place as if to survey the immediate area. ”Wow. So this is what being rich actually “looks” like. I gotta hand it to you. Though I myself prefer to bask in the more humbler of settings. You really knew how to pick the perfect digital investment back in the day. If only I had a fraction of your aptitude and foresight.”
”You did. You stole my private key, you asshole. Siphoning funds outta my account for the last two years. Been living the high life of drugs and hookers, have we?” Sid muttered through clenched teeth, doing his utmost to hold back a raging urge not to rip his brothers head clean off. ”You always were a piece of trash. I mean, look at you. All that money and still not an ounce of class in that filth-ridden carcass you drag around all day long. You disgust me. I find it a miracle you were able to stay off the grid for so damn long. Intelligence was never your high point, after all. But that’s in the past now. I'm looking you square in the face. You ain’t got nowhere to hide now… brother.”
His focus on Michael was broken off by the familiar clatter of high heels against the tiled, marble floor. The waitress was already holding a notepad in one hand, pen readied in the other.
”So, seeing as we're now well over that "one minute" we discussed earlier, what’s this extra special order you got me looking forward to ordering for you then?”
