David stared into the flames lighting up the fireplace. The last of his scotch burned its way down his throat. He hated the stupid royal blue velvet monstrosity of a chair he sat on. It reminded him more of a throne than a chair, and it was damned uncomfortable. It was also the only fucking chair that asshole Russ had left. The chair, their California king, and a broken file cabinet made up all of the three-thousand-foot condo's furnishings.
Like it wasn't bad enough to sell him out to that chink.
David crossed his legs and raised his glass for another sip. Empty. "Well, shit." He went to set the glass on the side table that was no longer there. The glass thunked against the carpeted floor.
