Mick was pleased with himself. Citizen of the year. Exploiting sick children opened most doors.
He'd sit at the head table and the local social climbers would flirt and fawn. He'd mention his Mother, God rest her gin-sodden soul.
He chuckled. It was all falling neatly into place.
He looked around the room, making certain he had everything. He paused to appraise himself in the mirror and sucked in his gut. The lighting in the motel room was bad - surely he wasn't that florid. No, he was ruddy. Hearty. The years of wind and sun still concealed the years of Scotch. Of course they did.
He glanced at the hooker sleeping on the bed. She might have been ugly but she was smart enough to get the most out of the room he'd paid for. Had to respect that.
His phone beeped as he hurried out he door and he glanced at the display. His lawyer. Damn. Another billable hour. The SOB had quite the scam going on, but it was a necessary evil when one made one's money fleecing people.
Which is what Mick did. Every day. And he'd gotten rich doing it. Every so often a naive but outraged victim thought they'd expose him. Not gonna happen. Mick owned this goddamned town. He'd simply donate some coin to another local non-profit and while his lawyer fended them off he'd be asked to sit on another board. He'd humbly accept. If the lawyer got his jollies antagonizing the schmucks and ran up larger bills, so be it. Everyone was a winner. Well, almost everyone.
He started humming the Stones tune "Tiiiiiimmmme is my side" and climbed into his pick-up. He threw a cup of cold coffee out the window and started the truck, revving the engine because it was fun and made him feel like a big shot.
If he'd spared a glance at the homeless man leaning against the motel wall as he wheeled out of the parking lot, he might have noticed the camera.
Chairman of the Abhorred II
Chairman of the Abhorred III
Chairman of the Abhorred IV
