Served With a Twist

by Jet Lupin

  Without another word, Fancy Suit put on his shoes, gathered the rest of his belongings, and dashed out of the offshoot.

  Cut stumbled to the wall and sagged against it, the adrenaline that had fueled him until now spent. He’d give it a couple of minutes before he retraced his steps to the main alley and find his way home. He’d had all the Fancy Suit he could take for one night.

  He didn’t know if the suit had taken the bait, but Cut accomplished his aim. He wouldn’t be getting any strange from here tonight. Cut could say that he tried, no matter what happened next.

  He slipped a few grains of lift under his tongue and hurried home. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow and when he awoke the next morning, for a moment, it was as if the night before had never happened. But not even the residual lift high could keep the memories at bay for long. He recalled the entire terrible scene with crystal clarity. It was like he hadn’t gotten lifted at all.

  It was official.

  Fancy Suit was ruined for him forever.

  Chapter 2

  T

  he next evening, Fancy Suit didn’t come to the bar, or the one after that, or the one after that. For the last year and a half, he’d come in almost every night with few exceptions. Six expected visits had passed, where his seat was defiled by asses of lesser quality. Cut would have preferred it had been left vacant. This was sacrilege.

  Maybe he’d recognized Cut after all. There was no way things could go back to normal for them after that. As much as it pained him, Fancy Suit finding a new place to drink or a different shift to visit was probably for the best.

  After a full week had passed and Cut still hadn’t seen Fancy Suit, he called it. The memory had faded, leaving Cut with a mild, distasteful sensation whenever his thoughts wandered near it, but nothing more. Life appeared to be going back to normal, albeit, a little less entertaining.

  On what would have been the twelfth day after the incident… Cut got a message from Jade. He was at home, stretched across the couch in his tiny residence, enjoying the mellow rolling buzz from the dazzler he’d gotten from that dealer. The lift might have been a bust, but the dazzler was top notch. He’d added her to his contacts as soon as the buzz hit. His whole body felt like it was vibrating. He almost didn’t notice the pod’s rumbling with its message.

  You’re on tonight, right?

  Cut sighed. Why was she asking what the schedule board behind her could tell her?

  Last I checked. Why?

  Some guy’s here asking about you. He didn’t know you by name, but he tipped me to find out if you were coming in tonight.

  The hairs on the back of Cut’s neck prickled.

  Describe him.

  There was a delay as she typed. Tall, mid to late 30s. Not bad looking.

  That description fit about a quarter of the guys who came in on Cut’s shift.

  What about his clothes?

  His whole outfit’s worth at least two months of Hole’s rent.

  Fancy Suit actually came back?

  Showing up now, didn’t bode well. Two weeks was a long time away, long enough to lawyer up and hammer out the details of a lawsuit or some other legal action. But you couldn’t serve who you didn’t see!

  Take my shift?

  No way.

  C’mon…

  Nope. I’ve got plans for this unexpected windfall tonight. You’ll just have to with handsome rich guys sniffing after you by yourself. Poor you.

  If only she knew.

  Manning the bar by himself had never been an issue. Everything slowed down during the week, even live bars like Hole where people came more for the company than the booze. Humans needed to be with other humans socially, if only in spurts. Live Bars offered the opportunity for communion with the option to participate as much or as little as you wanted. Patrons came to sit and drink, and sometimes they chatted with each other, though most preferred to speak to the bartenders where there was no pressure to hold up their end of the conversation/be entertaining or witty. Some customers came in, picked a chair, and never said a word other than to place their orders. The drinks cost more as a result, and the quality more than at a bot bar where they were made the same way each and every time, but no one came here for the drinks. Though, if they did, Cut’s were the best, if he said so himself..

  He reached out to the other Hole employees, trying to see if anyone could pick up his shift, but the story was the same; no one wanted to give up their evening off on such short notice. He could always call Priya, the owner, and get her to make someone cover for him, but he didn’t want to use that card just yet. You never knew when you might need to suddenly skip town and had to ask for an advance on your last paycheck. He’d hold onto that card until he absolutely needed to play it. Cut had learned long ago to prepare for what you least wanted to happen.

  He went in and got an early start. There was no avoiding him, if Fancy Suit decided to come back, but he could prepare himself for the showdown. He’d go with the reasonable approach, but he’d have the Green Stripes pre-dialed in case things got hairy.

  Jade ran off as soon as Cut relieved her without so much as a glance back. The bar was empty, much to Cut’s relief, and he used the silence to get his thoughts together.

  He might have misread the situation, but he wasn’t going to apologize for intervening. The suit shouldn’t have been out there. No matter what he was into, there was a better way to get it like people who you could pay to do things like that to you, or even an app that had some measure of security embedded in it in case anything went awry. Anything was better than trawling the streets for it.

  Three hours into the shift, when customers came in from work and things got busy again, Fancy Suit still hadn’t shown up. Cut wouldn’t begrudge him for having second thoughts. Hell, coming back here at all took more guts than Cut had. But they had to be realistic. Fancy Suit wasn’t coming back here. He’d start going to a bot bar, or maybe he’d take Cut’s advice and find another way to work out whatever he was going through. Or he wouldn’t. In either case, it was no longer Cut’s problem.

  Business was really booming this evening. Customers came in in droves, asking for drinks, wanting to tell Cut about their day. He cared, to an extent, but he had to keep moving, spreading his attention around. He thought about calling someone in to help, since this was supposed to be a slow shift, but he didn’t. He could manage and then all the tips would be his. They should have helped him when he actually needed it! When his supplies of both lemons and cherries started to dwindle, he pulled the containers out of the bar’s lower counter and retreated to the back to re-up. He grabbed a bucket to refresh the ice as well. He stacked his container of lemons, cherries, and a peelable protein stick he’d brought from home on top before he headed back out. Just a few more hours and he’d be able to close up shop and head back home. And if Fancy Suit didn’t show up today, then he wouldn’t be showing his face here again. It was the end of an era, but it was better this way.

  He set up his supplies, his soul alight and unburdened. He unwrapped a protein stick and stuck it into his mouth as the doors slid open on his next customer. He hurriedly chewed and swallowed so that he wouldn’t greet them with a mouth full of meat and cheese.

  “Welcome to–” The rest of his greeting died on his lips as his former favorite customer strode over to him.

  He was as dapper today as ever, a vision in verdant green. His hair was slicked back, the wild curls tamed into blandness by gobs of hair gel and a sturdy comb. It looked stiff, yet not sticky or crunchy. Still, Cut didn’t like it. The buttons of his shirt were done up to the neck as well. He didn’t look like he was here to unwind. He was here on business. He sat deliberately at the counter seat furthest from the door, and waved Cut over to him.

  Cut swallowed. He couldn’t very well ignore him. Priya would know. Cut had never found any security cameras hidden through the shop, but somehow, Priya always knew.

  He delayed a few m
inutes more, making sure the other customers were taken care of first before he made his way down the bar, like a child dragging their feet to delay a punishment long in coming.

  A smile involuntarily twitched at Cut’s lips, his body moving on autopilot. “Welcome back. What can I get you?” He would keep it light and professional and treat this like any other day, but the very air between them had changed. He was still so damn sexy, but seeing him here dragged up the memories Cut had worked so hard to block out. Those memories wouldn’t stop haunting him until they talked the incident out, but that was more work than Cut was willing to put in right now. If Fancy Suit didn’t bring up their shared shame, neither would Cut.

  “A vodka soda, please. Hint of lime.” So much for ignoring that things had changed. Things were different down to his order.

  Cut set about making the drink. Going through the motions cleared his head a bit.

  Coaster, drink, bowl of bar mix. He didn’t forget the twist of lime and even threw in a cherry. This was top shelf service he was getting despite the status of their professional relationship.

  Fancy Suit took a sip, and frowned down at the cherry bobbing in his drink. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about the other day.”

  A wet spot on the lacquered composite called for Cut’s attention. He wiped at it, his gaze fixed there. “You’ll have to refresh my memory.”

  If this visit was meant to intimidate him into silence or threaten him with litigation, wouldn’t he have gotten that out of the way first? Maybe he was here to offer a bribe in exchange for Cut’s silence. He wouldn’t say no to ICD thrown his way.

  Fancy Suit set down the glass and leaned some of his weight onto the counter, trying to close the gap between them. “When we ran into each other the other day, and you, uh, you said there was something you could do for me?”

  Cut’s stomach knotted up. He’d said that in the heat of the moment and it slipped his mind until now. He sort of hoped it had been the same for this guy, too. “I might have said something like that.”

  “I want to take you up on it.”

  Cut bit his cheek to keep his expression in check, but his brows twitched slightly. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

  “That thing you offered.” He dropped his voice. “I want it. No trial period, no questions asked. I want to make an arrangement where we…” He dropped his voice and rose from his seat to creep closer to Cut. Cut closed the gap on his side of the bar. “We would do things like what happened in that alley.”

  This had to be a dream, or a hallucination brought on by the lingering effects of the dazzler. It was nice to dream, but even then Cut was realistic about it.

  If he was looking to get slapped around and have his clothes ripped off, he could talk to someone else. “I’m not sure about that…”

  “I’ll pay whatever you want.”

  Cut pinched his own arm so hard it started to turn red. It hurt like hell. So not a dream, then.

  Then, this was a joke or a prank. These sorts of things didn’t just happen.

  Cut leaned an elbow on the bar, keeping his voice low as well.

  “You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?” Of all the ways to play off being caught in a sticky situation, Cut thought he preferred this. They’d both laugh at this later after he shot Cut down. But the way Fancy Suits gaze bored into him said this was no prank. His face was even a little flushed. He might actually be serious about this. Cut sighed. He’d take it seriously until proven otherwise.

  “How about we take a step back and talk about this at length somewhere else? Like at a cafe or a bar where I don’t work.”

  Fancy Suit nodded, easing himself down into his seat. “Whatever you like.” He pulled a card from his wallet, placed it on the counter, and slid it across to Cut. “That’s my private line. Obviously, I want to keep this discreet. When you’re ready to set something up, please, call me.”

  He hadn’t been discreet when he was in that alley, but he probably hadn’t expected to run afoul of someone who knew his face. Cut quickly slipped the card off the counter and into his jeans pocket to ponder later, or more hopefully, to forget.

  Fancy Suit paid for his drink and left a tip worth three times the bottle of vodka it had come from. Before Cut could protest, he was out the door. The rest of the night was uneventful and Cut closed up on time without issue.

  But more problems were waiting for him at home.

  There was a note stuck to his door and the door of every other apartment on his floor. A physical note rather than a pod message sounded serious. He tore his off and started to read.

  To all Dakota Residents,

  This is a notice of the property management company OOO LLC’s intent to increase the rent of all residents within all OOO LLC holdings. As things in the dome grow and adjust, so too must we adapt. The increase in development of Izanami means an increase in shuttles bringing new potential residents. Housing is going to become more competitive. We will do what we can to keep prices manageable, and we strive to be mindful of our current residents, but know that we don’t establish any changes consideration for our established residents and much.

  The new rental fee was a full 200 ICD a month more than what he was already paying. It might not seem like a lot to them, but he’d be feeling the crunch soon. That was money that couldn’t go towards groceries, not that he bought much of those to begin with, but this wasn’t going to help his eating habits improve.

  He lay in bed for hours, turning over Fancy Suit’s card. Did he reach out or not? Fancy Suit was expecting something he was capable of, and he should straighten the whole thing out, but forgetting the whole thing was much easier.

  Then again, what would it hurt to check it out and see who he really was? It’d give Cut a name to put to the suits. He grabbed his pod from among the sheets and scanned it.

  Samson Ba

  That was it. No company name or designation. And there was only one pod address and one email. It was so normal—too normal for someone who wore suits that cost as much as Cut’s whole wardrobe three times over. Was it even real?

  If Cut didn’t reach out, there was a chance Samson (if that was his real name) would go back to his old ways. Most people in Cut’s shoes would mind their own business, but ignoring him didn’t seem like an option. There was no telling the true extent of what Samson was into, or if Cut really could help him, but he’d never know unless he reached out.

  Samson? This is Cut From the bar.

  Chapter 3

  C

  ut paced in front of the restaurant, a sweet cigarette dangled, burning, from his lips, He’d made himself cross eyed rolling it himself, and now it was all going to ash. He was too keyed up to inhale.

  Letting Samson pick where they met seemed like a good idea at the time. He did that with any first date he went on. The choice would give him insight into what kind of person his potential fling was, and it tended to help them relax, giving them that little bit of control. Plus it made him seem agreeable, which in the beginning of most relationships, was seen as a desirable trait. Cut was able to adapt to shifting circumstance easier than most and make any experience enjoyable. But this? He regretted this.

  With a name like The Cupboard he had expected something modest; a hole in the wall that felt more like an intimate dinner at a friend’s table. This was not that. It was finished and glass and metal, the name lit up bright purple signage above the door. It was sleek and screamed money. Why would Samson want to meet him here?

  He dressed in his best: a clean pair of dark jeans, a shirt without holes, and a relatively new jacket that made him feel stylish and sexy on any other occasion, but standing outside of this place made him feel like a panhandler. Every single patron who went inside was of the elite, sharpers every last one of them. A few clutched their bags when they passed him to enter.

  He knew Samson had money from observing him on his visits to the bar, so what was the point of them coming he
re? To throw his wallet around? Or, by some cruel twist of fate, he was actually comfortable somewhere like this? Cut couldn’t comprehend a reality in which that was possible.

  Are you close?

  He’d been standing outside long enough for the maître d’ to notice him, and he peeked at Cut every time the door swung open. If Samson was going to be late, Cut would wait around the corner, or better yet, leave!

  I can see you. Turn around. I’m waving. Can you see me?

  An arm shot up from a pocket of people and started waving back and forth. Cut didn’t see a face, but he raised his own hand and waved back anyway.

  I’ll be right there.

  Damn.

  Samson broke away from the crowd and walked quickly alongside them until his long strides overtook them. The closer he got, the more Cut had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. Behind the Hole’s bar counter was on a riser so the bartenders were usually above the guests or at least at eye level. He figured Samson was tall, but not this tall. They’d stood next to each other in that alley, but there’d been so much to take in, the fact that Samson had a good six inches on him didn’t stick. He felt every inch acutely now, however. If Samson was surprised about the height difference in bar Cut and the real life version, he hid it well.

  He smelled so damn good. Like musk and cloves as if he’d been bathing in the smoke of Cut’s cigarette. There was no suit today, replaced by a dark orange Henley, a well-loved jacket and jeans that hugged his thighs. Cut couldn’t wait to see him from the back. The bag strap cutting across his chest made it look broader. How was he so hot? It wasn’t fair.

  His light gray eyes twinkled when he smiled and Cut’s whole body warmed in the face of it. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “Oh, no, just got here. But are you sure this is the right place?”

  Samson looked at the edifice, all shining glass and plastic. “Do you not like it? We can go somewhere else? Your choice.”