places: names and no names

Clayton paid me well.  I had no complaints. He wasn't one for small talk. I could tell that he wasn't close to anyone and no one was going to have any luck pal'in up to him.  That didn't bother me, just so long as I got paid.

As time passed I fell into the routine, and the tension subsided.  The gun stayed in my pocket and I gave little thought as to what was in those parcels we were delivering.  Like Clayton told me that first night, I drove where I was told.

Though I had never been asked to go to the doorstep on a delivery, I got the idea that those we delivered to were safe.  As it turned out, there were only about six drop-off points.  After the first month of working, I could have driven to each location blindfolded.

Clayton pretty much stayed at his home.  He had other guys working for him, but for some reason I was kept separate.  I was never paid with them.  Rod was the only guy that I was around.  He eased up on me after I got the hang of the job.  The first few weeks, while I was getting a hang of the job,  he used to mumble obscenities at me.

There is this guy at Clayton's place.  He was always there.  He never acknowledged me.  He's usually smoking outside around the house, as if keeping watch.  I'd also see him hanging outside the door of Clayton's office.  Sometimes he'd be in there with Clayton.  Anytime I enter the room,  the Russian would exit.  I've heard him talk from the next room.  His voice was always low and I never tried to make out conversations.  I did recognize the dialect.  We were never introduced. I had the feeling from the get go that it wouldn't be a good idea to ask any questions, or make small talk. I never knew his name.