Johan hadn’t been so sure he wanted the man to get into the back of his cab. The man had been swaying terribly, even though there wasn’t even the faintest hint of a breeze, and had to steady himself for dear life against his mountain of luggage.
American, Johan thought, when he stared at the cowboy hat the man was wearing.
Gawking at the cowboy hat had been the mistake. The man had noticed him eyeing it and had taken that as his cue to crawl into the backseat, expecting Johan to fetch his bags and cram them into his miniscule trunk.
After tending to the drunk’s bags, Johan settled back behind the wheel only to notice that the man in the cowboy hat was stretched out across the backseat, and was snoring. Johan shouted to get his attention, but it wasn’t until he blew his horn that he got the man to wake up.
It was only after the man offered apologies in Swedish that Johan accepted that he wasn’t American. And it wasn’t until after the man reluctantly sat up, and his cowboy hat fell off, that Johan realized he recognized him.
The drunk’s eyes may have had a glassy look to them, and Johan had never envisioned seeing him with a waterfall of drill spilling down his chin, but his passenger was unmistakably Axel Forsberg.
The man was a celebrity in Sweden. An inspiration to everyone with an entrepreneurial mindset. He’d attained great heights, running the arms company that the U.S. Government renewed contract after contract with to supply the many branches of their armed forces.
Partnering up with Axel Forsberg was like receiving Midas’ touch. Rivaling companies were willing to slit each other’s throats for the chance to attain exclusivity with him. Five years ago, Sweden’s business world marveled at how a startup experienced a meteoric rise from operating out of the founder’s garage to becoming a powerhouse solely off of the deal with Forsberg to supply all his offices in Europe with whatever office supplies they needed.
“Mr. Forsberg,” Johan said, cheerily. “It’s an honor to have you in my cab.” He still thought his passenger might vomit all over his backseat, but now he almost welcomed it.
If Axel Forsberg ruined the interior of his car, he might be more agreeable to a business partnership as a way of making up for his actions.
“It’s an honor to be in your cab,” Axel said as he picked up his hat and placed it over his eyes, still attempting to get some sleep.
“If I may say so, sir, while I hope this isn’t the last time I can escort you to your destination, I do hope this is the only time I can provide such a service with such a, well, modest means of transportation.”
Johan had been polishing a plan for years to start up his own business. In essence, it would be a cab company, but with a more luxurious feel, catering to wealthy businessmen who wanted to arrive at meetings in style. He’d have a few limousines as well, and hike up the rate to rent them out, but only to steer his customers towards the town cars he would have an easier time financing as he got his business up and running.
Over the past two years, his wife had grown weary of listening to him expound on hos successful the company he was refusing to start would eventually be. He was practically giddy fantasizing about breaking the news that he had struck a deal with THE Axel Forsberg.
“Ah, an entrepreneur,” Axel said, in a tone that was one step above drowsy.
“Yes sir,” Johan said, merrily, believing that they were hitting it off.
“I like talking to entrepreneurs,” Axel said, shifting in the back seat, resting his head against the window. “I love hearing their stories. Tell me, do you have people who don’t believe in you. Who only tell you to quit because all you’ll do is fail?”
“Yes sir,” Johan said, though he withheld sharing that the person who voiced the most doubts was his wife.
My god, he’s asking questions! We’re really delving deep. I might actually strike a deal with him before the end of the trip.
Axel seemed to snore, even though he was awake and talking. “Me too,” he said with a yawn. “Every day I wake up, I remind myself about all the ways I was ‘bound to fail’ if I returned to America.”
“Does it motivate you to wake up every day and prove them wrong?” Johan asked. He waited for the longest time for a response, eyeing his rearview mirror to see if his passenger had fallen asleep. He was about to pose the question again when Axel finally replied.
“It motivates me to keep coming back here. I never miss the chance to look my father in the eye and tell him he was wrong.”