SETH RIVERA AND THE ULTIMATE BLACK CARD

SASHA'S CONFIDENCE

In the office of Marlin Murray, and the only thing that was to be heard was the turning of the air conditioning system. The room was vast with all the modern furnishes and abstract arts that instantly gave it a luxurious look.

From the large glass windows one could see the skyline of Kingston and the city’s active life happening far down below. However, in these four walls, there was complete silence as if something was wrong.

Marlin leaned back in his chair that had the shinny mahogany furniture and was tapping his fingers on the desk. His neatly combed black hair had peeked through his baseball cap and his forehead was creased roughly in the middle. He pulled out his phone and a rarely used number which he had engraved in his heart.

When a business man makes a call into an inferior, he does not want to talk things over civilly: “Sasha, get to my office immediately,” he snarled into the telephone before hurling it down on the hook.

Several minutes later there was a knock on