บท 14: Chapter 12 The Thing Even Dean Dared Not Do
Scott was a salesman at a small farm equipment dealership in southern Texas, and with Christmas approaching, as per usual, he should have been planning a family vacation by now.
But this year his luck wouldn't be as good, as a farm in Ohio had been constantly complaining about problems with their farm equipment.
Dammit! In the past, Scott probably would have ignored such a customer, then maybe someday when he felt like it, he would send a service representative over to sketchily handle it.
However, ever since Japanese farm equipment hit the North American market, those good days were gone for good.
To try to mend and keep his customer, Scott needed to fly across America, from the sunny fields of Texas all the way to the bitterly cold Ohio.
He couldn't wait to leave as soon as his plane landed, and he hurried directly to the phone booth near the airport; he needed to call his company's local contact.
Scott rummaged through his briefcase, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find what he was looking for.
Clearly, his luck had run out again, as the calling card that was supposed to be in the inner pocket, was gone.
"F*ck!" Scott cursed angrily, and then shivered in the icy Ohio wind.
He looked up and around; this damn Youngstown-Warren Airport didn't even have a decent convenience store.
"Sir, I guess you need some help?" Dean, who had already been watching him, approached smoothly.
"Yes, my calling card is missing. Do you know where I can buy one around here?"
Scott sized Dean up, seeing he didn't seem like a no-good thug, replied casually.
"Then you've asked the right person, sir." Dean flipped his hand, and a brown card suddenly appeared.
"An unused internal card, fifty US Dollars each. It works all over America, and you can even make calls to Canada with it."
"Internal card?" Scott had never heard of such calling cards, but the familiar logo made him somewhat skeptical.
"Why not give it a try, sir?" Dean offered the card to Scott.
"Alright," Scott gave the desolate airport another glance and decided to spend two minutes to try it out, as it wasn't going to cost him anything.
Following Dean's instructions, Scott picked up the phone and dialed the number.
When he heard the voice of his colleague on the other end, Scott looked at Dean in surprise, who signaled him to carry on with the call.
Five minutes later, Scott hung up the phone.
"Looks good, works just like a regular calling card. By the way, what's your name?"
"Sean Wade," Dean recited his name smoothly.
"Sean, you mentioned this is an internal card." Scott examined the card in his hands, a sly look flashing in his eyes.
"Of course, I went to a lot of trouble to get these," Dean nodded confidently.
"Considering the favor you've just done for me, I'll take the card for forty US Dollars."
"Sir, you can't do that. It's worth fifty US Dollars, and you just heard the balance when I checked it on the call.
I paid forty-five US Dollars for it. I admit I'm just looking to make a small profit," said Dean, shivering in the cold Ohio wind with a pitiful look towards Scott.
Oh, look at those puppy dog eyes, almost like the little girl selling matches in an Andersen fairy tale.
But business is business, and whenever his negotiation counterparts showed that kind of expression, Scott would only drive the price down even more harshly.
"Sean, others may not know, but I, Scott, am sure that there's no such thing as an 'internal card'. I guess..." Scott gave a meaningful smile, "this must be acquired through some dodgy means, like the old blue boxes."
Surprise flashed in Dean's eyes for a moment, but Scott caught it and smiled smugly.
"If I'm not mistaken, you should also have one of those devices that allow unlimited calling time, right?"
If Dean's initial surprise was feigned, then this time he genuinely looked at Scott with newfound respect, recognizing he'd met a real pro today.
"Sir, maybe it's as you say. But I did indeed spend forty-five US Dollars on this calling card," Dean asserted.
Scott didn't reply, just looked at Dean with a face that said he had him pegged.
"Alright, you win, forty US Dollars," Dean shrugged resignedly.
Only then did Scott show a triumphant smile, but after finishing the deal, he didn't hurry to leave.
"Sir, anything else?" Dean looked at him innocently.
"That unlimited time device, if you have one, I could use it too. Price is negotiable," Scott said, not caring for a mere fifty US Dollars calling card, he wanted more.
As a salesman, he needed to make dozens, if not hundreds of hours of phone calls a month, and most of those costs are reimbursed through the company.
It wasn't a small amount, but since it wasn't coming out of his pocket, Scott hadn't cared much about it before.
But now it was different, if he could get hold of a device that allowed free calls, he could save that expense.
Yet, saving that expense didn't mean he'd reduce his monthly reimbursement claims from the company.
Through some gray-area maneuvers, Scott could pocket the money he used to claim for calling expenses every month.
Look, the company wouldn't spend a cent more, but he, Scott, would reap a tangible benefit.
In the past, one of his predecessors had run a similar scheme using a blue box.
Unfortunately, as telephone technology advanced, the blue boxes became obsolete. But to his surprise, today he found something akin to them.
That was an expense of several thousand US dollars a month, and considering the demand from colleagues around him, Scott's heart was ablaze with excitement.
"Sir, you must be mistaken, I'm just a small-time dealer," Dean said unmoved, continuing to feign ignorance.
"Listen," Scott leaned in and whispered, "I know you runners have this capability, and I promise you, as long as you can provide something like it, I'm willing to pay top dollar."
Dean blinked.
"A thousand US dollars, a thousand dollars a set!" Scott emphasized, holding up a finger.
The look of foolishness in Dean's eyes diminished.
"One thousand five hundred dollars! Up to ten sets, I'll take as many as you've got!" Thinking of the more than four thousand dollars in expenses he claimed each month, Scott began to up the ante.
"Sir, I'm not sure if it's possible, but I'm willing to try and persuade my supplier to tackle the technology," Dean's eyes were clear and earnest.
"Two days," Scott waggled his fingers, "I'm only in Ohio for two days."
"Understood, whether it can be done or not, I'll be here at this spot again in two days," Dean bowed humbly, indicating he would do his utmost.
"Honestly, I still prefer the foolish look you had on your face just now." Patting his shoulder, Scott walked away from the airport with his head held high.
Flashing a secret middle finger, Dean quickly made his way to a secluded path by the airport, where a Chevrolet pickup was waiting for him.
"Dean, is everything going smoothly?" Roger tossed him a can of beer from inside the vehicle.
"Smother than I could have ever imagined." Dean popped the can open and clinked it against his.
Roger was Dean's high school classmate. Back at Wilson High School, they were inseparable buddies.
But afterward, Dean went to Cleveland, while Roger stayed in Youngstown for college.
Indeed. There was a state university in Youngstown, too. Considering the combined population of the metro and suburban areas reached over half a million, it was normal for a city of that size to be served by a university.
It's just that it ranked far beyond the top 100 in America, even in the Midwest. After graduating from local white high schools, most students went there.
"Dean, did you ever go to the Quicken Loans Arena to watch the Knights play while you were in Cleveland?"
"You know me, Roger, I'm good with stickball and ping-pong, but basketball just doesn't do it for me."
"Oh, shit! Dean, that's the Knights, our own team! You've never even watched one of their games?!"
"F*ck you! Roger, as far as I know, you've never been to see the Knights play, either."
"That's because I don't have the money, but I supported them in front of the TV!"
"As if I'm any richer than you. Give up buying condoms for a month and you'll have enough money."
"That might as well kill me~!"
...
South of downtown, Dean visited Wood Street again.
This time his visit wasn't for Peter, but for his own affairs, specifically to prepare for a deal in two days.
Since visiting his old man, Peter, Dean started to unload his stock of phone cards on a small scale.
Those prepaid cards worth a few tens of dollars, to everyone's surprise, were highly popular in the eastern and northern parts of the city.
Especially those with a face value of ten to twenty dollars, discounted to about seventy or eighty percent, he sold out all of his low-value card inventory in two days.
The truth proved that no one could resist a bargain, especially the poor in the east and north sides of town.
The people of color there owned no houses, mostly living in cheap apartments, which meant they generally lacked landlines at home and relied on payphones when needed.
So when someone was willing to sell a 20-dollar calling card for about 15 dollars, not many could say no.
As for whether anyone suspected that these cards were of dubious origin? Come on! When I'm nearly broke and struggling to pay rent, who cares about that?
Moreover, going to jail for residents in the east and north sides was as common as visiting McDonald's.
They didn't care about the legality of the items in their hands; snagging a deal was all that mattered.
Thanks to their generous support, Dean had amassed over 600 dollars in proceeds in a few days.
However, he deliberately controlled the outflow of the phone cards, only trying them out in a limited scope.
As for the high-value cards, and the timed cards that Scott had been dreaming of, he hadn't sold a single one.
Because it involves another important issue, taxes!
No matter whether Dean's income was legal or not, there was one thing he didn't dare play any tricks with, and that was paying taxes!
However, figuring out how to tax these gray-income dollars was something Dean couldn't decide on his own; he didn't know how to operate to perfectly evade legal surveillance.
Naturally, he thought of his dear lawyer, Wedner.
Rubbing his face, Dean lifted his spirits with a smile, and, chest out, walked into Wedner Law Office once more.
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