Delivering Trouble - Chapter 1

Hello strong friends!

Firstly, here's a status from some of my work. I'm done with the collection of poems as riddles about obejcts. Now I'm working on the layout and front page, so still far to go but it's getting good. 

Secondly, I had a huge flow and actually got to write a lot of my new novel. I'm not so sure about the title yet, but so far it's called 'Delivering Trouble' and I really like it but I need it to grow a little more on me. In this post I will share chapter 1 with you, and I hope you like it. Please do comment what you think. My plan and goal is to share one chapter with you every week. This way I push myself to the work and hopefully have my head staying in the game. I have the overall idea and plot of the novel, but that's the easy part. Make it magical and readable is the hardest part and by far requires the most amount of time, but I really enjoy it. I love it. Telling stories is the best! 

Anyways, like I said, I hope you will enjoy it and let me know what you think.

Delivering Trouble

Chapter 1 — The Special Package

If you asked Trent Miller what his life plan was, he would probably say something like:

Step one: deliver packages.
Step two: deliver more packages.
Step three: maybe eat pizza.

And honestly, that was pretty much it.

Trent was twenty-four years old, six feet tall, annoyingly good-looking, and the proud owner of the worst college transcript ever produced by a human being. After two semesters of trying to understand economics, statistics, and something called “introductory accounting misery,” he decided education was not his thing.

So now he delivered packages.

Every day.

All day.

Boxes. Envelopes. Weird shaped packages that rattled when you shook them.

He drove a white delivery van that smelled faintly like cardboard and looked like regret.

“Trent!”

His boss Gary shouted across the warehouse.

Gary was built like a refrigerator and always looked like he had just eaten another smaller refrigerator.

“You done loading the van?”

“Almost,” Trent said.

He lifted another package and tossed it into the van.

Gary squinted at him.

“You tossed that like it’s a basketball.”

“It’s probably socks,” Trent said.

“You don’t know that.”

“If it’s fragile they should write it bigger.”

Gary sighed the sigh of a man who had accepted long ago that Trent would never take anything seriously.

“Just don’t break anything.”

“No promises.”

Trent slammed the van door and jumped into the driver’s seat.

Another thrilling day of delivering other people’s stuff had begun…

 

Two hours later Trent had delivered:

• One box of dog treats
• Three office packages
• A suspiciously heavy package labeled “ceramic flamingos”
• And one envelope to a guy who answered the door wearing nothing but a bathrobe and sunglasses

New York was full of interesting people.

By noon Trent was hungry, bored, and considering eating the emergency protein bar that had been in his glove compartment since the Obama administration.

Then his phone buzzed.

It was Gary again.

“Yeah boss?”

“I got a special delivery for you.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“It’s important.”

“Define important.”

“It’s for a CEO.”

Trent raised an eyebrow.

“Like… a big CEO?”

“Big building. Big company. Fancy party happening right now. They need the package immediately.”

Trent leaned back in his seat.

“A party?”

“Yes.”

“With rich people?”

“Yes.”

“And I get to walk into it wearing my delivery uniform?”

“Yes.”

Trent grinned.

“Well Gary,” he said, starting the van, “this suddenly became the best delivery of the day.”

 

Trent drove back to the warehouse where Gary stood ready with the package. It was neither a small nor a large package. It had the size of box that just made it even more suspicious.

Gary put the package on the passenger side and looked at Trent with a serious stare.

“Be careful with this but also be quick.”

Trent looked at Gary and nodded as he started the car and then he drove off.  

 

Five minutes later Trent pulled the van over to the curb outside a small sandwich shop and checked the address Gary had just sent him.

Then he checked it again.

Then one more time.

“Yeah… that can’t be right,” he muttered.

The address belonged to Jackman Global, one of those giant companies that seemed to own half the city and probably a small moon somewhere. Their headquarters was a skyscraper in Midtown that looked like it had been designed by someone who really liked glass and showing off.

Trent had driven past it before.

Everyone had.

It was the kind of building that made you feel poor just by looking at it.

His phone buzzed again.

Gary.

“You got the address?” Gary asked.

“Yeah,” Trent said. “But I think you accidentally sent me the address of a billionaire.”

“That’s the one.”

“Why are we delivering to them?”

“Because their normal courier service screwed up.”

“So now I’m the backup plan?”

“Congratulations,” Gary said. “You’re the emergency guy.”

Trent leaned back in the driver’s seat and looked at the towering skyline ahead of him.

“You know,” he said, “this might be the fanciest place I’ve ever delivered to.”

“You delivered to a plastic surgeon in Brooklyn last week.”

“Yeah, but his waiting room had a fish tank and a broken fancy coffee machine, and then it’s not fancy...”

“This place has a champagne bar,” Gary said.

Trent sat up.

“…I’m listening.”

“There’s some huge company party happening tonight. Hundreds of employees. Big event.”

Trent grinned.

“So I’m basically walking into a rich people party.”

“You are delivering a package,” Gary corrected.

“Inside a rich people party.”

“Yes.”

“And they’re expecting me.”

“Yes.”

“So technically,” Trent said, “I’m a VIP guest.”

Gary was silent for a moment.

“You are a delivery man.”

“Semantics.”

Gary sighed.

“Just deliver the package.”

“Fine,” Trent said. “What is it?”

“No idea.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It’s marked urgent.”

Trent turned around in his seat and grabbed the package from the passenger side.

It wasn’t very big. About the size of a shoebox. Plain brown cardboard. No fancy labels. Just an address and the words:

URGENT — HAND DELIVER

He shook it gently.

Something inside shifted.

“Hope it’s not a snake,” Trent said.

“Why would it be a snake?”

“I don’t know. Rich people are weird.”

“It’s not a snake.”

“You sound suspiciously unsure.”

Gary hung up.

Trent laughed and tossed the box back onto the passenger seat.

“Well, mystery package,” he said to it, “let’s go meet some billionaires.”

 

Thirty minutes later Trent pulled up outside the Jackman Global building.

And wow.

Pictures didn’t do it justice.

The building was enormous. A giant tower of glass that stretched so high Trent had to lean halfway out the window just to see the top.

“Holy crap,” he whispered.

The front entrance looked like something out of a movie.

Bright lights.

Valet parking.

Luxury cars lined up along the street.

And people.

Lots of people.

Men in expensive suits.

Women in elegant dresses.

Everyone laughing and chatting as they walked inside like they owned the place.

Trent looked down at himself.

Delivery uniform.

Wrinkled blue shirt.

Company logo on the chest.

A small grease stain near his pocket from a pizza slice earlier.

“Yeah,” he said. “I fit right in.”

He grabbed the package and stepped out of the van.

As he walked toward the entrance, a doorman in a sharp black suit opened the giant glass doors.

The inside lobby was massive.

Marble floors.

Tall ceilings.

Huge lights hanging like glowing chandeliers.

Music floated down from somewhere above, along with the distant sound of people cheering and laughing.

Trent looked around.

“Okay,” he said quietly, “this place definitely has better everything than… everything.”

A security guard stepped toward him.

Big guy.

Serious face.

The kind of guy who looked like he could bench press Trent’s van.

“Can I help you?” the guard asked.

Trent held up the package.

“Delivery.”

The guard checked the label.

His expression softened slightly.

“Oh. Right. They were expecting this.”

“See?” Trent said proudly. “VIP guest.”

The guard did not smile.

“Follow me.”

Trent followed him across the giant lobby toward a row of elevators.

Employees and guests passed by wearing expensive perfume and suits that probably cost more than Trent’s monthly rent.

He suddenly felt very aware of his sneakers.

They squeaked slightly on the polished floor.

The guard pressed a button on one of the elevators.

“Top floor,” he said.

The elevator doors opened.

Trent stepped inside.

“Enjoy the party,” the guard added.

The doors closed.

And the elevator began to rise.

Fast.

Really fast.

Trent watched the numbers climb.

20…

35…

47…

He could hear the music getting louder through the ceiling.

Bass thumping.

People laughing.

Someone shouting.

“Man,” Trent said, adjusting his hair in the reflection of the elevator wall.

“This is definitely not a normal delivery.”

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

And suddenly Trent was standing at the entrance to one of the biggest parties he had ever seen in his life.

Lights.

Music.

Hundreds of people.

A giant open office space transformed into a full-on celebration.

And somewhere inside that party…

Was the CEO he had come to meet.

Trent took a deep breath.

Adjusted his shirt.

And stepped into the party.

Not knowing that in just a few minutes…

He was about to meet someone who would completely mess up his entire night…

And possibly his entire life.

I hope you enjoyed it. There's more to come, so stay tuned. 

Thank you for the vist and your time. 

Much appreciated and best regards,

Kasper F. Christiansen