Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Ordinary Daily life (4)
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Sam nodded.
"After handing the truck over to you, I spent my last few years driving company semis. The pay is night and day different. Straight trucks are only good for short hauls, right? With a semi, you can do long hauls."
"I know that, but aren't they expensive?"
"Buy a used one. The market's good right now. Plenty of solid 2018 and 2019 models out there."
Sam continued his explanation.
"Long hauls in a semi pay two to two-fifty per mile. Can't even compare to the dollar you're making now. One round trip to California nets four grand easy."
"I've heard bits and pieces, but the difference is huge."
"Or just buy new. Five-year warranty's no joke. No big repair bills during that time—just oil changes and tires. Pretty sweet deal."
My heart started racing at Sam's words.
"Fuel efficiency's better too. New engines get six to seven miles per gallon. Your truck's doing four or five, right? Cuts fuel costs big time."
"...Yeah."
"But the real kicker is..."
Sam looked me straight in the eye.
"Safety. New trucks don't break down. No worrying about stalling in the middle of the highway. You have no idea the peace of mind that brings."
"...Right."
Sam clapped me on the shoulder.
"Heard about the chest of drawers. Invest that money in your truck this time—no detours."
"...You knew too, Sam?"
"Ha! Bill wouldn't shut up about it. Sold it for forty-five grand? Your cut's around twenty-two."
Sam grinned.
"That's plenty. Covers the down payment easy."
"What about the monthly?"
"Around a grand. But with income doubling? You'll handle it fine."
Sam was spot on.
The numbers added up.
"But Sam, which truck should I..."
"Don't sweat it. Got a buddy who's a truck dealer—Mike. Honest guy. I'll call him, have him scout something good."
"Really?"
"You bet. We'll call tomorrow. Soon as the chest deal wraps, we go truck shopping."
Sam stood and offered his hand.
"Jake, this is a fresh start. No need to be scared. I switched to semis at the end—no regrets. You're younger. You'll drive it ten, twenty years."
I took his hand and stood.
"Thanks, Sam."
"What're families for."
Sam beamed.
"C'mon, dinner time. Dorothy made stew?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go. I'm starving."
Sam slung an arm around my shoulder as we walked.
Suddenly, my heart felt a lot lighter.
Sam was right.
What mattered wasn't nostalgia—it was this moment, the people around me.
The day Victor came to see the chest of drawers.
But I was too busy chasing after the little princess who'd barged in at dawn.
"Jake! I'm hungry!"
While I prepped breakfast in the kitchen, Nancy sat at the table, banging a spoon like it was a drum.
She'd gotten used to my cooking since that first time.
"Just a sec. Pancakes are almost done."
"Really? With syrup?"
"Of course. Extra maple for my princess."
I flipped the golden pancakes in the pan and thought about what Bill had said.
Even after setting the appointment, Victor kept calling for more photos, Victor had hounded him for more shots—from every angle. We'd sent three batches over a week. Most buyers come same day to inspect in person, but this felt off.
I agreed with Bill's hunch.
Victor putting in this much effort meant it was big.
"Jake, you working today?"
Nancy asked around a syrupy bite.
Her messy face was adorable; I couldn't help smiling as I wiped it with a napkin.
"Yeah, got something important. Wanna hang at Grandpa Sam's?"
"...Okay! I'll be good and wait for you!"
She said it bravely, but her face fell.
Couldn't bring a kid to a big deal, though.
"Tell you what—ice cream when I get back. Chocolate."
"Really?"
"Promise."
After breakfast, I dropped Nancy at Sam's.
Sam was staying home—he knew the plan.
"Go worry-free. We'll do puzzles and have fun."
"Puzzles!"
Seeing her brighten up eased my mind.
I waved to them both and hopped in the truck.
"Whew..."
Nail this deal, and I'd have the down payment for a new truck.
I steeled myself and headed to Bill's.
Just stay sharp. Bill's got my back...
I arrived at Bill's early.
Time to recheck the chest and strategize before Victor showed.
"Hey, Jake."
Bill greeted me warmly, but even the veteran looked tense.
"Victor's due at two sharp. Guy's a stickler for time."
"Got it. Mind if I check the chest again?"
"Let's go."
As we headed to the warehouse, Bill said,
"This piece... feels special. First time Victor's shown this much interest."
"That big a deal?"
"Ha! The guy's got a nose like a bloodhound. If he wasn't slammed, he'd have snatched it already. Told me flat-out not to sell to anyone else."
We inspected the chest in the corner.
1880s British Victorian. Exquisite rose carvings. The secret drawer bumped its value sky-high.
I laid hands on it, focusing.
Anything I missed?
Faint visions flickered: an English manor, a gentleman writing by candlelight... hiding something in the secret drawer.
"Hmm..."
"Still impressive, huh?"
Bill snapped me out of it.
"Yeah... definitely something special. No wonder Victor's hooked."
"Rare condition like this. Now, price..."
"How much?"
Bill thought, then,
"Forty-five grand, like we said. Fair price. He'll haggle, sure."
"Bottom line?"
"Hold forty. Drop below, and we walk—find another buyer."
I smiled awkwardly.
If it didn't sell today, my truck plans crumbled.
My rickety rig haunted my thoughts.
Hope it sells today...
Victor was due any minute.
"Jake, one thing—watch out."
Bill's face turned serious.
"Victor's a shark at spotting weakness. Show nerves or hesitation, he'll pounce. I'll lead, but heads-up."
"Got it. I'll stay cool."
A car pulled up outside.
Black Cadillac Escalade parking.
Victor.
He stepped out in an expensive suit.
Slicked hair, polished shoes—success incarnate.
No Tiffany from the auction.
Three staffers instead.
Not bodyguards—appraisers.
Ding-a-ling.
Door opened; Victor scanned the shop, eyes landing on us.
"Bill, thanks for making time. And... Jake Winch."
His tone carried weight when he said my name.
He remembered the auction. The hundred grand he'd lost.
"Hey, Victor."
I greeted evenly—not too meek, not cocky.
"Straight to it. Show me the chest."
Bill led to the warehouse; Victor's team followed.
They eyed the shop's wares sharply. Pros.
Victor lit up at the sight.
Expert eyes dissected every inch.
"Hmm..."
Gloves on, he approached.
Overall shape first, then carvings, rose motifs, wood grain.
"Krause, take a look."
He called a German-looking guy.
Loupe out, intense inspection.
"Late 1880s, boss. Solid mahogany, rosewood inlay... hand-carved."
"Secret drawer?"
Bill demonstrated.
Hidden compartment in the second drawer gleamed.
Victor's eyes sparkled.
"Perfect."
Satisfied, he conferred with his team.
Ten minutes later,
"I like it."
No hesitation.
"Price?"
Bill calm:
"Forty-five thousand."
Victor smirked.
"Forty-five? Steep."
"Not at all. Victorian with secret drawer in this shape? Top-shelf. Once-in-a-decade."
"Fair, but..."
Victor stroked his chin.
"Market's soft on Victorians. Big pieces like this—storage hassle, shipping nightmare."
"...Buyers with taste don't care about trends. Word is you pay what it's worth."
I chimed in from behind.
Bill nodded approval.
"True. Good piece deserves the price. And mine is..."
Victor paused, then grinned fiercely.
"Thirty-five. Thoughts?"
We exchanged glances.
Ten grand off, as expected.
"Thirty-five's low, Victor."
Bill firm.
"We're at forty-five."
"Forty-five's a no-go."
Victor dug in.
Silence stretched.
Who needed it more?
"Damn, forty then?"
Bill yielded to our floor.
"Still high."
Victor shook his head.
"Thirty-eight. That's it."
"No dice. Forty or bust."
Bill drew the line.
Meant it.
I kept a poker face—no desperation.
"Hmm..."
Victor checked his watch.
Irritated pause, then nod.
"Stubborn as ever, Bill. Forty-one. Final."
"What, tossing in an extra grand now?"
Bill frowned, surprised.
Victor shrugged.
"Condition: we pack and load now. My guys handle it—you watch. Truck's outside."
He seemed rushed—uncharacteristic.
Truck ready? Bill looked puzzled.
"Now? You brought a truck?"
"Yep. Lucky you. Got a New York flight soon."
Same-day pickup with truck, but he's heading to New York?
Fishy.
Bill eyed me.
What do you think?
Forty-one beats our floor. Cash today. But his rush...
If he walks...
"Deal."
Bill decided while I mulled.
"Forty-one, you take it now."
Victor smiled.
"Contract time."
Nod to staffer—briefcase out, papers ready.
"Standard sales agreement. Just fill the amount."
Bill read it over; I did too.
Clean. Basic sale doc.
Date pre-filled—he'd come prepared.
Staffer inked $41,000.
"Sign here."
Victor pulled a fancy pen from his breast pocket.
Silver body, gold accents—Montblanc limited edition.
"Good deals need good pens. Bought it in Germany fifteen years back."
He showed it off.
Pricey.
"Both owners sign. Jake Winch, your turn."
He handed it over.
Instinct kicked in—I focused.
The moment I gripped it...
The familiar sensation surged through my fingers.