Plastic Page #3

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He now works in a bar.

F***in' same story everywhere.

So how did you land the X-Cred gig?

My dad used to work there.

Anyway, what about you?

I've seen you and your friends around uni,

with your designer clothes and your cash.

One of my friends said she bought a stereo

from one of your housemates

and there was boxes piled high.

You're very suspicious.

What do you guys do?

We're entrepreneurs.

What kind?

Trade secret.

You're a lucky f***er, Yatesey.

Luck's got nothing to do with it, Daniel.

What kind of a twat goes

all in on two pair?

Who wants to come and share this with me?

You're not invited, cunty.

I'm crying on the inside. Honestly.

- Should we go?

- Yeah.

Fiona.

Nice one.

Whoa, better.

Can three people play?

Frankie, we're leaving.

OK, one minute.

- That's me.

- Then I'd better get your number.

I'd like to see you again.

You better give me your phone, then.

This is your email address.

I don't want to make it

too easy for you.

Good night, Sam.

Did you get what's-her-name's

number last night?

She gave me her email address.

That's a bit gay.

Yeah. You know where she works?

No, I wasn't the one

talking to her all night.

X-Cred.

She's a data processor.

F***.

Mate, she could be a gold mine.

Probably, but I'm not interested

in her for that.

I like her.

There's just something about her.

Quality.

I think it's that she's f***ing fit.

- Right.

- Break a leg.

- Mr Barker?

- Yes, mate.

Sign here please, guv,

you've got a package.

Open it up, Mr Ford.

Looks like it's all here.

Come on in. We've been waiting.

As a statement of intent

there's nothing quite like forced nudity,

gaffer tape and hired thugs.

Cuts out the time-wasting questions

that usually go hand in hand

with these situations.

I don't think you've met

my friend Harry.

They have.

Now Harry here is good with numbers.

A f***ing genius.

But like many brilliant men

he has a weakness.

He loves to pay for women.

I keep telling him,

"Spend some money, get a nice girl".

But he never listens.

He likes them cheap.

Fucks them on street corners

or in the back of his car.

Now I'm not here to cast judgment.

His cock, his business.

What does concern me is that last

night he was carrying something

that belonged to me.

Something sensitive.

There are files on here,

business accounts,

that I can't risk falling

into the wrong hands.

I keep telling Harry to be careful.

I shouldn't have to but I still do.

But I know he is weak

so I take precautions.

His phones, his laptop, this tablet here,

all infected with spyware.

I can locate them whenever I choose,

operate cameras via remote,

listen to what is being said...

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