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The Collector · **12-19-2019, 07:16 AM**

Collector:
noun

1. A person who collects things of a specific type, professionally or as a hobby

2. An official who is responsible for collecting money

On the streets of my native New York City, they call me ‘The Collector.’ Which variation of the term collector do I fit into exactly? The answer is, perhaps unsurprisingly, both. I’m a debt collector, in a manner of speaking. My grandfather is the head of an empire and you don’t amass an empire and a substantial fortune in this business without being able to assert a certain amount of fear. A certain amount of respect. In this business, you can’t have one without the other.

While I’m relatively new to the profession, I have found that I’m quite good at coaxing the formerly unwilling to part with their monies. I do it professionally, no doubt, but I also take a great deal of pleasure in doing it. Despite my reputation, I don’t actually enjoy getting physical but on occasion, it does become necessary.

My grandfather is Alister Henry. His business is that which you never discuss and the only way out, at least after a certain point, is in a box… one way or another. Men in this business rarely see age 50. At 68 years old, Alister Henry is a man that is compassionate, garnering him respect and notoriously ruthless, granting him fear. He’s not a man to be trifled with. He’s the kind of man, that if he gives you an inch you take ¾ of that inch and you repay him an inch and a quarter.

My grandfather has tasked me with collecting on debts come due. He doesn’t agree with my methods and in fact has told me on multiple occasions that I need to get more physical. Maybe, but there has yet to be a debt that I haven’t collected. I do things my way. If my way fails, only then do I get physical. If I always did it his way, we’d run out of customers eventually. This way, maybe we get some repeat customers.

I may wear a mask and alter my voice to hide my identity. I may be called The Collector on the streets. But I have a name that people close call me. My name Is Jameson Henry. My grandfather calls me Jameson but most everyone else just calls me Jaime.

”Come in Jameson,” he says as he answers the door to his home.

His house is decorated with exotic animal trophies among expensive hand carved wooden fixtures. The walls are full of expensive paintings and to be entirely honest, I can’t tell one artist from another but I assume they’re good. Alister Henry is an asshole through and through but he has taste.

”I trust you’ve collected from Mr. Jensen?” he asks.

I hand him a white envelope, nearly overstuffed. He peeks momentarily than put the envelope in the drawer of a nearby end table.

”Any violence needed?”

”A little,” I reply. ”He saw the error of his ways rather quickly.”

”And this get up of yours… the mask, the altered voice, this is your way of installing fear?”

He looks at me unapprovingly and it has me uneasy so I resort to the only thing I know to do when I’m uncomfortable.

”You’ve seen my face, its far too pretty to elicit fear.”

I joke. With the altered voice thingy attached to the inside of my mask, it almost makes it funnier.

”Mmmmmm.”

He grunts. Maybe it was a groan. Anyway, doesn’t matter. He’s displeased and that’s… kinda typical actually. I ought to be used to it, but I never really am.

”You’ll be receiving your next order in a day or so Jameson. You need to work quicker.”

”You’re not happy with the results I’m getting?”

”I’m plenty happy with the results, but if you work faster my boy, you can collect more and more.” He ixes himself a drink and sits himself in a chair.

”Sir, if I work too quickly I’ll run out of debts to collect,” I state as I sit on the sofa.

”In that end table next to you, open that up. Beneath that envelope I tossed inside is a heavy leather bound register. Take that out, please.”

I humor the old man and do as he asks. Flipping through the pages I start to notice some commonality between them. A lot of these debts are uncollected and many of them are at least a decade old.

”A loan given is a debt owed, Jameson. No matter if they live or are deceased. I needed to see that you have the stomach to do bad things to people that owe us money and while I’d much rather you worked quicker and used more force, you have showed that you have the stomach to use vioence and force if need be.

“Now you’re entering the great game.

“The real game is collecting old debts that I’ve allowed to slide out of compassion. Those ones you’ll be collecting from surviving spouses, children, grandchildren even.”

I stand up to leave and I’m not thrilled what he’s asking me to do. But when I accepted this job it was with the understanding that I’m helping secure the family. He’ll hold me to that oath.

”Take the register. You can handle those in your free time.”

I let out an audible sigh which sounded weird coming out of the voice altering contraption.

”Are you here for Christmas? Your grandmother would like to know.”

”I’ll be away.”

”You’re going to make me disappoint your grandmother?”

”She should be used to it.”

I kinda said it without thinking. His dead stare at me has me uncomfortable again. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor and this was definitely crossing the line. So, I clear my throat and take the register with me as I leave.

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