I picked out as I glanced over it, shit like 'hidden Nazi Redoubt,' 'cavernous underground bunker' and 'where science was explored unbound by ethics,' started to give me a headache. Then came the capper of the bullshit parade: 'secretly relocated post-WWII beneath Harper Township, North Dakota.'
Yeah. A Nazi bunker under North Dakota.
I hated this shit.
Kamikaze had kept on running his mouth about how we were here to come up with 'innovative' ideas, and he was going to be looking for 'out of the box' vision, 'creative power uses' and 'lateral thinking.' I got up and poured myself another fucking drink.
"So at this point, are there any questions?"
I splashed a little water in my Scotch. "Yeah, I got one. Did our boy here say he was gonna kill anybody else 's family or was it just mine?"
Tracey set her pen down, annoyed. "Don. Now's not the time."
"So it was just me, then?" I asked loudly. "That's fucking awesome ."
Kamikaze's put-on laid-back attitude dried up a little. "Hey, it got your ass here, didn't it? I had to make sure you showed. And you're here now, and it will be worth your while. You're gonna be thanking me by the time we're done. I guarantee it. This is an amazing opportunity."
"Tell you what," I shot back, "Give me a thousand dollars right now, and we're even."
That put the kid in the hot seat, and if he actually paid me, it would kill his respectability. If he went apeshit on me, it would show he couldn't handle a group like this. He had to come at me just right to come out of it with any kind of dignity. Sometimes it was productive to be a dick.
The black guy at the other end of the table watched Kamikaze. Tracey threw a "Jesus Christ" my way. Squirrelly guy still n ever looked up from his laptop.
The kid just snickered, the piercings in his lips catching the lights again. "I'm not going to give you a thousand dollars, man. Come on. You're all getting paid to be here."
"Why not? Nobody else got their family threatened. That's not the way to do business where I come from. I'm here because you need me or you want me or whatever. So, you want me here, I want a thousand dollars for that shit on the rooftop or I walk out the door. Don't try to pay me in face jewelry, either."
The kid's ears began to turn red. "I'm not giving you a thousand dollars."
I set my drink down. "Then, I'm gone. Later, everybody."
Tracey threw her pen and bounced it off the table at me. "Goddammit, sit down . You walk out that door, and I'll be up your ass. Grow the hell up and stop mincing around like a butt-hurt little bitch. You don't need a thousand dollars." She turned to Kamikaze. "The whole car ride over here was like this. I'm really sorry. I apologize for him."
That raised the bar for me. In circles like this, the next step was throwing down the way we threw down; the way that involved property destruction, SWAT teams, newspaper headlines and national days of mourning. And if we did get into it, Tracey always read so much National Geographic that she probably knew eight volcanoes she could send me into right off the top of her damn head.
So I looked like the asshole punk when I sat back down and gave a bitchy, "This better be fucking good," to try and act like she hadn't just basically teleported my balls into her purse.
Kamikaze gave the room a moment of silence before he continued, "Now, if Don here will let us all get back to making money--"
"Hold up," the big black guy said to him, his shoulders square, "I think you need to pay that man for fucking with his family."
"I didn't do anything to his family," Kamikaze blurted. "He will get paid for being here, are you guys understanding that? I'm being clear, right? Each of you will receive a $5500 consultation fee for being here."
It didn't sway the guy. "I think it would be professional and make me a helluva lot more comfortable doin' business with y'all if you gave him a bump for what you did. I think he deserves it."
Tracey slammed her purse on the table.
Yeah. A Nazi bunker under North Dakota.
I hated this shit.
Kamikaze had kept on running his mouth about how we were here to come up with 'innovative' ideas, and he was going to be looking for 'out of the box' vision, 'creative power uses' and 'lateral thinking.' I got up and poured myself another fucking drink.
"So at this point, are there any questions?"
I splashed a little water in my Scotch. "Yeah, I got one. Did our boy here say he was gonna kill anybody else 's family or was it just mine?"
Tracey set her pen down, annoyed. "Don. Now's not the time."
"So it was just me, then?" I asked loudly. "That's fucking awesome ."
Kamikaze's put-on laid-back attitude dried up a little. "Hey, it got your ass here, didn't it? I had to make sure you showed. And you're here now, and it will be worth your while. You're gonna be thanking me by the time we're done. I guarantee it. This is an amazing opportunity."
"Tell you what," I shot back, "Give me a thousand dollars right now, and we're even."
That put the kid in the hot seat, and if he actually paid me, it would kill his respectability. If he went apeshit on me, it would show he couldn't handle a group like this. He had to come at me just right to come out of it with any kind of dignity. Sometimes it was productive to be a dick.
The black guy at the other end of the table watched Kamikaze. Tracey threw a "Jesus Christ" my way. Squirrelly guy still n ever looked up from his laptop.
The kid just snickered, the piercings in his lips catching the lights again. "I'm not going to give you a thousand dollars, man. Come on. You're all getting paid to be here."
"Why not? Nobody else got their family threatened. That's not the way to do business where I come from. I'm here because you need me or you want me or whatever. So, you want me here, I want a thousand dollars for that shit on the rooftop or I walk out the door. Don't try to pay me in face jewelry, either."
The kid's ears began to turn red. "I'm not giving you a thousand dollars."
I set my drink down. "Then, I'm gone. Later, everybody."
Tracey threw her pen and bounced it off the table at me. "Goddammit, sit down . You walk out that door, and I'll be up your ass. Grow the hell up and stop mincing around like a butt-hurt little bitch. You don't need a thousand dollars." She turned to Kamikaze. "The whole car ride over here was like this. I'm really sorry. I apologize for him."
That raised the bar for me. In circles like this, the next step was throwing down the way we threw down; the way that involved property destruction, SWAT teams, newspaper headlines and national days of mourning. And if we did get into it, Tracey always read so much National Geographic that she probably knew eight volcanoes she could send me into right off the top of her damn head.
So I looked like the asshole punk when I sat back down and gave a bitchy, "This better be fucking good," to try and act like she hadn't just basically teleported my balls into her purse.
Kamikaze gave the room a moment of silence before he continued, "Now, if Don here will let us all get back to making money--"
"Hold up," the big black guy said to him, his shoulders square, "I think you need to pay that man for fucking with his family."
"I didn't do anything to his family," Kamikaze blurted. "He will get paid for being here, are you guys understanding that? I'm being clear, right? Each of you will receive a $5500 consultation fee for being here."
It didn't sway the guy. "I think it would be professional and make me a helluva lot more comfortable doin' business with y'all if you gave him a bump for what you did. I think he deserves it."
Tracey slammed her purse on the table.
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