Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

Of the many things I had to worry about, I was still bothered by what this bookkeeper had originally said. If I took the job, which was a real job—although boring—it would prove I had honest income.

The bookkeeper looked surprised under his mask of facial hair. “That can be arranged,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “As long as the quoted price remains the same.”

“Sure,” I said, “I’ll take the job.” I got paid significantly less than that for executing a gang boss. Unless she was cheating with Delovoa’s robot and Jyonal and Wallow, and all of them were jealous of me finding out, I was absolutely not concerned.

“Thank you. You are my savior. My beacon.” He kneeled before me.

I put out my hand to shake.

“It’s okay.”

He looked at my hand distastefully and the assistant walked over quickly and turned me towards the stairs.

“I can get you her last contact information,” she said.

I looked back over my shoulder and saw the celebrity standing with his hand on his hip, drinking heartily from a bottle. The bookkeeper was near him talking in a voice I couldn’t hear.

I didn’t really need the money, especially now when I had a lot of explaining to do about what I already owned. But it’s hard to pass up good deals. It’s in our nature. Like Grever Treest buying all those drugs or even Delovoa buying what he thought was a broken robot.

It was a little too late for social calls, but she was only five blocks away, which was like twenty grand per block walked.

It was another converted building, but this one was made into upscale apartments. There were armed guards outside who wouldn’t let you in without a key or invitation. They even knew me and wouldn’t let me in, though they weren’t comfortable about it.

“Look guys, I’m going in. If you shoot me, I’ll shoot you back. I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to talk to someone.”

A few more guards came out and they all conversed. They wore bright red, long jackets with white gloves and fancy hats. Two were pretty old. They looked a lot more used to holding open doors and carrying bags than getting into gun battles.

“Who is it you’re coming to see, Hank?” one of the older men asked.

Ah good, a man of reason.

“Tejj-jo,” I said.

“Is she home?” he asked his colleagues, and I could tell they were thinking about what to say.

“If she’s not, I’m just going to sit up there until she comes. And send a tele out to some friends to let me know if they spot her.”

“Do you mind if one of us comes with you?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because she will feel more comfortable with us around, I think,” he said delicately.

Yeah, I could see that. He was a pretty smart doorman.

“Well, the only problem is she’s going to expect you to throw me out. And when you don’t, you’re going to get fired,” I answered after much contemplation.

The guards discussed this.

“And you’re not here to hurt her or anything?” he asked.

“Or rob her?” a younger guard asked.

“Rob her?” I asked indignantly. I held up my hand in an oath pose. “I won’t even ruffle her hair.”

The guards talked some more. I could see one of the younger guys was anxious for a fight. He was in the wrong business. The others seemed to be trying to explain the situation.

“Can we ask what this is regarding?”

I figured doing a little name-dropping might help.

“I’m working for Two Clem,” I said.

They all groaned. Some cussed. Not everyone appreciates celebrities, I guess.

Finally, the old guard spoke.

“She’s on the third floor, suite seven. We’ll buzz you in.”

The inside of the building was very nice. Not too flashy.

I was mildly worried they would lock the elevator once I was in it, but I was tired of stairs. And the smart ones probably knew I could just tele about a hundred guys to come over and kill them.

I got to suite seven and buzzed. The door opened after a moment. I heard the peals of numerous women laughing behind the face of a truly beautiful female at the door.

“Yes?” she said.

“Uh, I’m looking for Tejj-jo,” I said.

“Jo, some guy here for you,” she said, as she walked from the door.

I figured I should take this opportunity and I entered the apartment.

The home was wealthy. Richly appointed. Artwork and expensive furniture all over. I got the sense a gang boss lived here, or at the very least visited.

“Hello?” said another truly beautiful woman, who walked towards me. She had extremely long auburn hair with exaggerated curls. Her figure was impressive and she wore light, flowing clothes. Even her voice was attractive. She had poise and confidence as she approached this unknown man in sandals who had entered unasked into her home.

There were four other women in the apartment. They were apparently drinking and in high spirits. They were all absurdly good-looking. It was like some kind of model convention.

“Hi,” I said uneasily. “I’m hoping we can talk.”

“Well, you can go wait in the hallway first of all,” she said.

“You tell him, Jo,” one of the women yelled and they all laughed.

Yeah. So how was I going to do this? I thought back to how I’d dealt with Garm’s tattletales, because that’s how I didn’t want to do it.

“I’m here from Two Clem—,” I started.

Then the women erupted in boos and catcalls.

“Get out of here,” Tejj-jo said angrily. “Tell him to grow up.”

I thought for a moment as the women celebrated and Tejj-jo rejoined her friends. I walked to the door, closed it, locked it. Then turned around and faced them.

“I’m sorry, but I need to ask you other ladies to leave. I need to speak to Tejj-jo alone, please.”

The joviality stopped abruptly. Tejj-jo walked over to a table and picked up her tele.

“I don’t know who the hell you are or how you got in here, but you’re about to get thrown out on your head by my security.”

“They know I’m here and they can’t do anything about it. So put down your tele and just talk to me. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d have already been hurt. I’m just here to talk.”

“Then why did you lock the door?” she asked, skeptical.

“Well, because I didn’t want you all to run out,” I said. Which was true, because I couldn’t catch them—they had some damn long legs.

Several of the women laughed, they didn’t seem to be especially concerned.

“You picked the wrong party to crash, mister. Do you have any idea who each of us is dating?”

“Who?” I asked, at least thankful to be moving forward.

They paused. I suppose that was confidential. Clearly these were not wives, but mistresses. Still, I couldn’t go around bashing their noses without a lot of blowback.

“Well, let me tell you who I am. My name is Hank.” I waited for a response, but didn’t see one. “I’m not sure if you heard about those Dredel Led that came here. The robots. And how some guy destroyed them? I’m that guy.”

I walked up to the couches and saw they had lost a lot of their cool.

“I’ve worked for almost every boss on Belvaille, shot more people than I care to count, and I’m best pals with the Adjunct Overwatch. I’m bulletproof and I’ve withstood knives, bombs, fires, fists, lightning, and the angry attention of a Therezian—twice. Right now, I’m just here to talk to her,” I said, pointing at Tejj-jo.

The room was quiet.

“If you’re bulletproof, then you won’t mind being shot, right?” A woman took a couple steps towards me and held out the tiniest pistol in the galaxy. She might have concealed it inside her ear it was so small.