Keith Harden had a bad day. This was not because he was unemployed. Yes, frustration had set in and he feared he would never again be free from his financial bonds, but that was his life. Nor was it that he was now sitting alone on the street in south Brooklyn in the middle of the night. In fact, Keith found a deep solace at night in the big city. The street was damp from an earlier rainshower and the gentle splashing as cars drove by soothed him. Even the horns and sirens off in the distance were calming.

Keith stood up and brushed off his jeans. He pulled his coat tight around him and began walking up the street towards his apartment. It was an unusually cold night for September and the promise of an early winter did not brighten his mood. As he walked he thought about the interview he had been to that morning. It wasn't anything special. A local club, The Garnet Lounge, was looking for a bouncer. Keith had a good build for a man in his late thirties. At 6'2" and 240 lbs. he could be an imposing presence. Unfortunatly the interview didn't go quite the way he wanted.

"You must be Keith," the club manager said. "My name's Gus. Have a seat and let's talk about you. I'm looking for a guy who can handle himself in a crowd. We get at lot of people come in this joint and that includes some riff raff. What kind of experience have you got?"

Experience was something Keith had in abundance. As soon as he hit eighteen he struck out on his own. What started out as a dream to make it big fizzled into trying to get by. By twenty-five Keith had more experience than he wanted. After failing on Wall Street, if losing 20 million of your company's money on a risky stock scheme could be considered as nice as failing, Keith had gone through job after job. The list included The Spotted Donkey, a local male strip club, and some private amateur gigs for a sleazy porn director. Keith decided to stick with some relevant experience. "I used to work over at Ted's keeping people in line. Unfortunately the place went under. I've also done construction and handyman type jobs. So if you need somebody to do a little other work I can do that too."

Gus was one of those guys who was always squinting. Did he need glasses or was he just an intense person? One thing was clear, he could size up a guy quick. He leaned in and laid it down. "Here's how it's gonna be. You want this job you're gonna have to do more than keep the place on the level. You'll do the dishes and clean out the bathrooms each night. I'll pay you minimum wage, cause that's the law, but you'll kick back thirty percent to me. That's the deal."

There was a time when only ex-cons got treated like this. Corrupt parole officers made a living off blackmailing parolees. Times were tough and the bosses knew it. Keith still had his pride. He jumped out of his chair. "Fuck you, Gus. Your deal stinks."

Gus smirked. "You ain't got no choice and you know it."

Keith didn't hesitate. "Hell yes I do! You can take that job and shove it where the sun don't shine!"

Keith stormed out of the place and could hear Gus yelling "you'll be back!" as he did. Now as he walked down the street he knew that Gus was right, and he hated him for it -- well, more than he hated him already. The bills were piling up and he couldn't keep mooching off his roommate Nick. They'd been at each others throats for awhile over rent money, but recently it had been really bad. Keith was sure he'd be out on the street if he didn't offer up some money soon. He crept quietly into the apartment and dropped straight on his bed. He didn't even bother to take off his coat. It was going to be a long week.