The Sunday morning street lamps had just shut off as the car crossed the dusty train tracks. The industrial district was quiet, with the various businesses closed for the weekend. A raccoon scattered across the road as Michael read off the address numbers. He crept down the street well below the speed limit, trying to find the address.
This was supposed to be his day off. Victor had told him to take the day to rest for the upcoming week. Michael felt he should have figured Victor wouldn't allow him a day off. Maybe that's what this was, a small lesson to show him that a businessman never takes days off.
As the road wrapped to the right, Michael saw a van parked a few hundred yards away at the side of an otherwise empty street. As he made his way, he found the van parked in front of a tiny shack of a building sandwiched between two large storage lots. The building had old navy paint that was flaking away, revealing a dirty white undercoat. The shack looked as if it'd been a house years ago before being turned into an office. A yellow light shown through the front window blinds. A wooden placard was hammed to the wall beside the door. It read "3600."
Michael pulled to the curb behind the white van. His notebook was clutched beneath his arm as he made his way across the gravel yard and up the creaky wooden steps. His knocks echoed in the silent surroundings. Voices were coming from inside, followed by a bit of movement. A door closed somewhere inside the house before he heard footsteps come towards him.
The door opened just a few inches allowing a single eye to peer out at him through the crack. "Mr. Robinson, my pleasure," The masked man pulled the door open, did a small bow, and gestured Michael to come inside. The man was wearing khaki slacks and a purple button-up. His hair was combed back with lose strands drooping down his forehead. He had a surgical mask that stretched from the bridge of his nose to the base of his chin.
"Where's Victor?" Michael asked as he stepped through the door. The man closed it behind him.
The interior was bland. A mostly open space except for a desk in the center of the room. The walls were white and spotted with old dirt. There seemed to be a layer of dust that filled the air. The room was a perfect square other than a small indent on the right wall with a door that appeared to be a closet.
"It's just me in here. The name's Gary." Gary reached out his right hand. As Michael shook it, he noticed Gary was missing half of his pinky.
"I thought I heard you talking to someone?" Michael asked.
"Oh no," Gary replied, "Sometimes I talk out loud when I work. I'm the lone wolf. It started a month ago. Sorry for the dirt, haven't had time to clean."
Michael sat in the chair and watched as Gary paced behind the desk, occasionally glancing at the closet. His movements were fidgety, continually rubbing his hand through his hair.
Gary sat down opposite of Michael. He reached down and pulled a briefcase onto the table, unlatched the hinges, and swung it open. Gary pulled out a laptop, brochure, and a white envelope.
He slid the envelope across the table to Michael. "I'm so glad you came. You're actually the first person to come. Nobody comes." Crows' feet appeared at the edges of Gary's eyes, showing a smile hidden behind his mask. "Please open it, it's yours."
Michael opened the envelope and was surprised to find it filled with cash.
"All five hundred. People weren't coming when I said it was free, so I had to do something. Please forgive me." Gary's eyes were staring straight into Michael's. He rubbed his hand through his hair again without breaking his gaze. Michael looked around the room. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Alone with a strange man in a deserted district with no one around for miles.
"Sir..um...Gary. I appreciate the gesture, but I need to leave." Michael began to stand.
"No!" Gary shouted, causing Michael to freeze. He raised a hand to his mask. "Forgive me, forgive me." He held up two hands gesturing Michael to calm down. "It's a paid vacation. Please, you are my first client. I don't think I'll get another if I don't have a first." Michael squinted his eyes as the man continued to ramble, "I think it's because of how I look. This mask, I have bad lungs. I'm missing a pinky, but that was just a childhood accident. Please. You're the first to show up." Gary's widened his eyes.
Michael, feeling slightly uncomfortable, sat back into the chair. "I didn't mean to..I do have somewhere to be..but I'll give you a few minutes."
"Thank you, Thank you," Gary reached across the desk and shook Michael's right hand with both of his. "I won't take long."
Gary slid the pamphlet across the table. At the top, in big red letters, it read "Secret Vacationer." Directly below the text was an extravagant resort that looked like a tropical paradise.
"I want to pay you to go on a vacation to this resort," Gary pointed to the photo.
Michael gave him a suspicious look, "Why would you pay me?"
"This is a new resort being developed in Malibu. My company sends guests to the resort as secret vacationers.'" Gary paused to let Michael talk but was met with silence, so he continued. "You'd go to the resort for a week. All your meals would be paid for, your room would be paid for. If you open the pamphlet, you'll see the many amenities of the resort."
Michael flipped open the pamphlet to see photos of tennis courts, surfing, a spa, along with more than he could possibly fit in a week.
"All you would be required to do is keep a journal of your daily activities. You'd write about the people there. The places they take you. You're only required to write one page, but more is better."
Michael sat still looking over the pamphlet. The skepticism he'd felt moments before was gone, "Can I take my fiancé?" He asked.
"Unfortunately," Gary let out a sigh, "I'm only contracted for one guest. The resort sends me a budget for one, so I can make a real reservation without them knowing it's a secret vacationer. It's five thousand a night per person, so if you bring a guest, you'd have to cover that."
Michael tapped his finger on the table. "I'm sorry, but I can't go without her."
Gary leaned in. "She doesn't have to know."
"I can't lie to her."
"She wouldn't want you to be happy?" Gary replied.
Michael was slightly taken back by his abruptness "She does, but she just wouldn't—"
"How about we meet in the middle. I'll shorten the trip to three days. I'm sure you can find an excuse to get out of town for a few days. If you go, I'll pay for you and your fiancé to go on a trip of your choice in the fall."
Michael sat, contemplating. He could probably convince the Bissett's of a three-day trip. It would have to be disguised as something other than a vacation, but some time away could be useful for him. He thought back to the dinner with Mimsy. It'd be a good thing for him to get away and think things over. A breath of fresh air.
"When would I leave?"
Gary looked pleased, "Well, as soon as you can... Tomorrow morning?"
"That's too soon."
"Wednesday?" Gary asked.
"Possibly, can I call to confirm?"
"Sure." Gary pulled out his wallet and handed Michael a business card. "Please let me know by this afternoon. Also, could you fill this out, so I can book your travel arrangements."
Michael nodded. After filling out the information card, he stood from his chair.
"Is it alright if I take a quick picture of you for my website," Gary asked.
Michael shrugged his shoulders and half-smiled as Gary pulled a phone from his pocket and snapped a photo.
"Please let me know." Gary shook Michael's hand.
"I'll let you know as soon as I can."