The Maiden had class.
A.J. had already prepped the two transactions he needed before he bellied up to the bar. When Cammy came over with the shot glass filled to the rim with what he called “golden bear juice,” he released both transac- tions. The first went to the club and paid the one hun- dred nuyen tab he had just created. The second went to Cammy’s tip icon, another one hundred nuyen, which was for using a double glass for his whiskey and being the prettiest bartender in the place.
“Johnson, party of six. They here yet, beautiful?” A.J. asked with smile.
“Went back about five minutes ago. Brutus was al- ready getting into the bottle,” Cammy warned. Then she smiled. “Thanks for the tip, but you know I’d still rather have the dinner you’ve been promising.”
A.J. flipped the double shot back and swallowed the whole thing in one wonderfully fiery gulp. He let himself enjoy the full burn before he spoke again.
“Next Monday. I know you’re off. I’ll get reservations at The Edge. You like elven cuisine, right?” A.J. enjoyed the feeling of almost being normal. It was going to cost him a few favors to get a short-notice table at one of the premier elven eateries in Seattle, but a normal date would be worth it; much better than using favors to get snuck into warehouses and onto shipping vessels.
“Yes!” Cammy said, but she communicated even better with her body language, lunging across the bar and hugging A.J. It was remarkably unprofessional of her, and honestly of him as well, but he was already late. Might as well rack up the bad juju all at once.
When Cammy released him, she quickly regained her composure and then shooed him away to his meeting. But she made sure to remind him about Monday a few more times.
A.J. walked toward the back with an extra spring in his step. As soon as he reached the room, the joy of the moment slipped from his mind and he focused on the business at hand.
“Sorry I’m late,” A.J. said as he stepped into the Al-
Seated around a finely crafted marble table were six people. Five he knew, one he did not, and that unknown figure was the one he focused on. He was human, tanned skin, late thirties, average frame, probably 1.85 meters. He had blended features, likely making him an Ameri- can-mutt, wore an expensive but not tailored suit, likely making him a mid-level corporate Johnson, and he was wearing a ring emblazoned with the meso-American sun symbol, likely meaning he had absolutely no con- nection to anything in that region. The watch peeking out from under his sleeve was a decoration that wasn’t even telling the correct time. His tie tack and cufflinks didn’t match and were in fact two completely different fashion lines, and his commlink, which was sitting on the table, had a Renraku case, but was using a Transys layout for his PAN. The details were there and A.J. quickly built an identity for the Johnson in the few moments it took him to take his seat.
“I’m A.J. I’ll presume you’re Mr. Johnson. Our dis- cussion of employment terms begins now. I don’t care what you convinced any of my colleagues to say, they don’t do our negotiations. I do. What are your terms?” A.J. was quick, deliberate, and cold. Along the sides of his vision he could see his teammates, and he could feel the glares of Dorian and Rain, who had both probably started to wheel and deal. He ignored them and kept his eyes locked with Mr. Johnson’s.
“Two weeks, multiple objectives. One hundred fifty thousand for your team.” The man’s eyes never budged.
“More detail,” A.J. said.
“He wants us to go to the East Coast—Boston, specif- ically—and do some work for him. If you were on time, you would have gotten that info,” Rain said.
Mr. Johnson’s eyes broke the staredown and looked over at Rain. When they returned to A.J., he was still star- ing at him.
“Is that accurate?” A.J. asked with a slight eyebrow raise but no shift of his eyes.
“Yes. We also disc …” Mr. Johnson stopped abruptly as A.J. cut him off.
“Two hundred for the team. Twenty for travel ex- penses. Thirty for discretionary spending,” A.J. put out the numbers and still kept his gaze locked.
“One sixty, I’ll arrange travel, and ten to grease the Hub,” the Johnson replied quickly. To A.J., that meant he had wiggle room and the negotiations weren’t settled. After a little more back-and-forth, A.J.’s withering gaze got the final numbers to a hundred eighty thousand for the team, the full twenty for travel, and twenty for dis- cretionary spending, which to him meant bribes and to the others meant partying.
After the negotiations, Mr. Johnson transferred their travel funds to A.J. along with ten percent of the pay- ment and the discretionary funds. Rain looked like he was going to say something but held his tongue when Brutus laid one of his massive hands on the small hu- man’s shoulder. The negotiations concluded, and Mr. Johnson left the room to the runners.
“What was that shit? You’re late, and our work gets brushed aside like we’re a bunch of fucking kids!” Rain ex- ploded at A.J. Yelling right out of the gate. It was a bad po- sition to negotiate from or against, and A.J. knew that well.
“Do I ask to get behind your scope and do your job?” A.J. started out calmly, going with a tactful but unre- morseful approach.
“No. Because you fucking couldn’t,” Rain yelled again, “I was pushing for half a million, and he was smil- ing. He would have gone higher.”
“He started at one fifty and you asked for a half mil- lion? Would you like to know why he was smiling? He knew you had no idea what you were doing, and when all was said and done you’d have probably been lucky to walk out with one, if you even got the job.” A.J. had done it plenty of times. Come in offering more, then got so pissed at the inept negotiator he convinced the gangers to take less money. It was gangers, he understood, but Rain was a ganger made good with some discipline and training from the UCAS Army.
“Is that fucking right? It’s A.J. to the rescue again. Come to help the poor dumb streeters,” Rain wasn’t yell- ing now, but instead he was walking toward him with the strut he used when he was spoiling for a fight.
When Rain got within arm’s reach, A.J. activated his reflex enhancements, stepped forward, and planted a solid palm into Rain’s solar plexus. Air rushed from the surprised man’s lungs as he fell to his knees clutching his chest and gasping for air. Brutus was already in mo- tion to make sure A.J. didn’t go too far, but it wasn’t necessary.
A.J. raised a hand up to Brutus and leaned down to Rain’s ear and whispered, “You joined a gang because you didn’t like your family. I joined a gang because I didn’t like not having a family. Don’t try and do my job, I won’t do yours. Square, chummer?”
The noise Rain made and the head nod were enough. A.J. looked at the rest of the team, called a midnight meeting at Rain’s doss, and then walked out of the room.
As he strolled back into the bar, he was reminded of what now was a conflicting date. He was a quick think- er most of the time and came up with a great idea that would only cost him a little more money and a few other favors, including one with Cheri, the owner of the Maid- en. He slipped up to the bar, waved over Cammy, and told her to pack a bag on Wednesday. She was going to Boston for the weekend.