He hopped to his feet, heading to the bank. He would spend a couple hours in there at this rate. He could do an awful lot of his banking business online, but a lot he couldn’t. He still dealt with cash from a few of his clients, a few of his contractors. Some of them preferred money orders, and some were just straight bank transfers.
Seeing the long afternoon ahead of him, he yawned and walked beside the harbor as long as he could, before heading back into town. When he realized he would be late for his appointment at the bank, he hopped the next Aquabus, catching a ride up the waterway until the next stop, bringing him ten blocks or so over. When he hopped off, he checked his watch—perfectly on time. He grinned at that, enjoying the precision.
As he walked in, he lifted a hand to Ben, sitting in the back room, clearly visible since the rooms were all glass. Ben immediately hopped up, walked over, and opened the door to let him in.
“Right on time as usual.”
“Thought I would be late today,” he said.
“Not likely. You keep such a perfect attendance record that it makes the rest of us look like shit.”
“You look like shit anyway,” Simon said, flashing a grin.
Ben immediately smiled, appreciating the wit.
They had a professional relationship that worked, as long as people did what Simon needed them to do, and they did it efficiently.
Ben knew that, and, as long as everybody could work together, he was all about keeping the relationship at this level. As he sat down, Ben asked, “So, what’s on the list today?”
“Too much.” Simon handed over the list of transfers and other transactions that he needed.
Ben shook his head, as he looked it over. “Man, I almost feel like we should get you your own private teller.”
“You’re not kidding, It’s a long list this time. It’ll take a while.”
As he started in on the payments in their various forms, Ben immediately brought up the computers and sorted through Simon’s list. By the time he was done, Simon had already gone through another cup of coffee, and now it was an hour and a half later. When Ben turned to face him, Simon stood to leave. “Thank you.”
Ben replied, “Moving money around is always good for the economy, and, therefore, the bank, no matter where it’s going.”
“Glad to hear that.” Simon waved and headed back outside again.
Almost as soon as he stepped outside again, the scent of the city hit him like a ton of bricks. He frowned at that. “From nothing to this again?”
He looked around but nothing to see. He studied his surroundings now with his psychic senses but picked up absolutely nothing. It was bizarre to have this particular “gift” ebb and flow, and, because he didn’t have any answers for it, it unnerved him. He liked to have hisTs crossed and hisIs dotted to ensure the world knew who he was before he ever got there. But that wasn’t happening right now. This uncontrollable sense of smell was something completely different. It wasn’t comfortable, and he didn’t like anything about it.
As he shuffled toward Hastings again, everything wrong in the city got sharper and sharper in his nose. Like sulfur from somewhere, and gas leaks from somewhere else. Natural gas too. He wasn’t even sure what he was smelling in some places. He shook his head, as he picked up the pace, getting there as fast as he could. He wanted to take a shortcut through an alley, but, as soon as he stepped in, the smell of urine slammed him, and he immediately backed up, bending over double because of the intense rank smell. At that, he stopped, then leaned against the wall, giving himself a chance to just digest whatever the hell was going on. His world was all about balance, and, when there was none, life was that much harder.
As soon as he could breathe again, he headed down the main pathway, avoiding all unsavory places that normally wouldn’t be an issue, but something today made them a serious problem. He was late for his next appointment. By the time his project manager gave him the lowdown on the rehab—now at 30 percent over budget—Simon got frustrated and angry again.
“This will be the job to keep an eye on,” his project manager muttered.
“Yeah, there’s always one, isn’t there?” Simon tried to remember that. Some projects, no matter how well he and his crew prepared for it, turned into money pits. Thankfully the overall majority of his projects made money, so the offset could be absorbed without affecting his bottom line too much. However, dealing with the daily headaches sometimes made Simon question his desire to revive the original beauty of the Vancouver buildings here.
“There’s always one, and honestly, we’ve done the best we can.”
“And yet it doesn’t seem to be doing a damn bit of good.”
“That’s because you’re caught up in the daily drudge of it all right now. And I get that, I really do. I mean a ton of your money is involved in this.”
“We’re 200K over budget,” Simon said in exasperation. “What the hell? We weren’t supposed to get anywhere close to that figure.”
The project manager nodded. “Yet you’ve okayed all these changes.”
“Sure, but those change orders are bullshit,” he snapped. “Especially at this level.”
“Part of that was the supplies. We had to source out new suppliers, and that meant we had to do other changes because we couldn’t get some of what we needed.”
Simon shrugged. “It’s bad right now. I get it.”