What's today's date again? No, scratch that.
For men like Eric Aldaman, bound by routine and salaried commitment, the names of weekdays hardly mattered. Not when your livelihood revolved around serving the needs of a particular client.
For Eric, today was just another cycle, another task, another ride. He had long stopped checking calendars unless deadlines demanded it.
As usual, he was behind the wheel of the black sedan, manoeuvring through the meticulously clean streets of Upstate. In the backseat sat his employer the ever-busy Dravin Ramprandt.
They came to a gradual halt in front of an imposing hotel, its sleek, glowing signage etched boldly across the top floor like a royal crest. Its sheer size reminded Eric, not for the first time, how massive and overindulgent buildings in Upstate tended to be. Towering glass columns and grand entrances were the norm here, but this one still managed to catch the eye.
