Collateral Trade Read Online Free Page A

lettering on the outside of the limo, but the smiling man exiting from the driver’s door wore a gray polo shirt with Manerea Industries embroidered on the pocket.
    “Sharell?” Of course she was, but the personalized greeting was demanded in his duties.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “No ‘sir’. Call me Manny. Want to sit up front? You’re my only pickup today and it’s a two hour drive.”
    There was never more than one pickup, and if Sharell had looked closer she would have noticed the backseats barely had impressions or scuffing from other passengers. The seat she sat on was clean, but the leather slightly faded from sliding jean covered butts of Manny’s other pickups.
    They almost always chose to sit up front, and it was easier for Manny to judge her commitment without calling over his shoulder. Dr. Manuel Ramirez had a PhD in psychology and loved to drive. The combination made for the ideal setting for his final evaluation; much more natural than a professional office in some brick building. This way, he could watch how closely she stared at her surroundings. Too much melancholy and she would not make it a week. In seven years, he had only been wrong twice.
    “Have you been working for them long?”
    “Since the beginning,” Manny smiled. The road opened to farmland, with ranches and mountains in the distance. “It’s a great company.”
    “But, you get to come and go.” Sharell looked through the windshield, trying to capture and hold the memory of every waving cornstalk, the old red Kubota tractor belching a black fog of smoke, faded wood fences needing repair… she shuddered and listened to Manny.
    “Not really. I mean, I leave for pickups, but the rest of the time I stay at headquarters, just like everyone else.”
    “What exactly does Manerea do?”
    “They build.”
    “Well, that’s about as vague as anything else I’ve learned. What do they build?”
    “You’ll see when we get there.”
    Okay. A no go question. “Pretty damn covert company.” She glanced at him, smiling nervously. “And employees.”
    Manny laughed. “Look, I promise. If you’re willing to give up all this,” he waved his hand across the scenery, “you won’t be disappointed. They keep things interesting or people wouldn’t stay.”
    “The salary doesn’t hurt. Besides, I thought I was under contract. It looks kind of tough to break.”
    “Mmm, but wait until you see why.” Manny glanced at her and watched her eyes narrow on the mountains. Anticipation was winning the battle over her last defensive anxiety, and he relaxed. She passed, and this was a very good thing.
    There were prettier girls working for Manerea, but this one was in the top ten. Hell, the top five. Green eyes… not hazel… true green, dark hair, five-ten and one-thirty on the scale, according to her application. Most of the pounds were divvied between long legs, a nice ass, and the full breasts stretching her company shirt. She would get the standard issue with her name on it locking her into the contract when she was shown to her quarters, along with a host of suitors vying for the new pussy on the block. This kept the men happy, and a happy crew was a productive crew. “Not many women in Maintenance.”
    “I guess I have an aptitude for fixing things.” Except Mom and Dad. I couldn’t fix them.
    Sharell closed her eyes, trying to banish the memory of them and the host of miscellaneous families willing to put up with a troubled, confused teenage girl in exchange for a monthly check. Her last surrogate father was a handyman, and Sharell followed him around learning the tools and mechanics of putting things back together. They let her stay for two years. At eighteen, the front door closed behind her and her suitcase for the last time. They were practical people with practical needs, and they needed the money for the bed she was vacating.
    On her application, she listed her parents as ‘Deceased’. They might as well have been. Her mother was