"You can't do that!" he sez, gettin' his mouth workin' well enough to at least sputter. "If you turn me in as a demon, then I'll incriminate you, too! We'll all end up getting killed, or at least run out of town."
"There is one major difference in our circumstantials which you are overlookin'," I sez, grinnin' at him. "While I will admit that my cousin and me have done some dimension travelin', this particular dimension of Klah happens to be our home territory. The appearances you see are legit and not disguises, so any attempt to accuse us of bein' from off-dimension would be difficult to prove, as we are not. On the other hand, you, bereft of disguise, would encounter extreme difficulty in convincin' a jury or lynch mob that you was from around here."
I thought this would bring any resistance on the proprietor's part to an end, but instead he straightens up and frowns, his eyes takin' on a mean glitter.
"You're from this dimension? You wouldn't happen to know a local magician and demon by the name of Skeeve, would you?"
As I have said before, I have not reached my current age and position by panicking under crosstype examination or by overratin' the necessity for voicin' the whole truth. I can see that this Deveel has some kind of grudge against the Boss, so while habitually avoidin' any false statement which could lead to perjury charges, I am careful not to acknowledge my actual relationship with the individual in question.
"Skeeve?" I sez, frownin' dramatically like I learned to do in theater. "I think I may have heard the name while I was workin' at the Bazaar, but I ain't heard it recently."
"Too bad," the Deveel mutters, almost to himself. "I owe that Klahd a bad turn or two. I spent a couple of years as a statue under a cloud of pigeons because of him. In fact I'd still be there if it weren't for ... but that's another story, if you know what I mean."
Of course, from workin' with the Boss, I knew exactly what he meant ... that the story of his escape was gonna be marketed separately sometime as a short story to generate additional revenue whilst promotin' these books at the same time. Of course, admittin' this understandin' would have been a dead giveaway, so I decide to change the subject instead.
"Yeah, sure. Say, speakin' of names, what's yours, anyway? I mean your real name, not this Abdul alias."
"What? Oh! It's Frumple ... or it used to be back when I was welcome in my own dimension of Deva."
That had a familiar sound to it, but I decide enough is enough, and take a firm grip on the subject at hand.
"Well, I'm Guido and my cousin what was talkin' to you back at the table is Nunzio ... and I believe we was discussin' the terms of our peaceful coexistence with youse?"
Frumple cocked his head to one side, studyin' me close-like.
"You know," he sez, "you sound like you work for the Mob. In fact, now that I think about it, I seem to recall hearing something about the Mob trying to move in on the Bazaar."
"Yeah? So?"
"So I'm already making yearly protection payments to the Mob, and I don't see why I should stand for being shaken down for anything extra."
This information that the Mob is operatin' in these parts is disquietin' to say the least, but I manage not to show any surprise or nervousness.
"Really?" I sez. "Tell me, does your local Mob sales rep know that you're a Deveel?"
"Okay, okay! I get the point," Frumple says, throwin' up his hands. "What do you want to keep that information quiet?"
"Well, since we're lookin' to make this our hangout for a while, I figure we can protect your little secret as a courtesy."
"Really?"
"Sure," I smiles. "Of course, in return, it would be nice if you extended the hospitality of your establishment to us and our friends ... as a courtesy."
"I see," he sez, tightenin' his lips to a crooked line. "All right, I guess I don't have much choice. It'll be cheaper to give you free drinks than to have to relocate and start building a business up from scratch. I'll give you free drinks, and maybe an occasional meal. The rooms upstairs are out, though. If I start letting you use those for free, I'll go out of business anyway. They're the profit margin that keeps this place afloat."
"Rooms?"
"Yeah. I've got a few rooms upstairs that I rent to the customers by the hour so they can ... have some privacy with any interesting people they happen to meet here. You see, this place gets pretty lively evenings. Its one of the more popular singles bars in town."
"You mean you got broads workin' the joint at night?"
"Certainly not! The women who hang out here have regular high-paying jobs and wouldn't dream of charging for their company."
"So the customers pay you for the rooms, but not the broads," I sez. "Sounds like a sweet setup to me."
"Not that sweet," Frumple amends, hastily. "Still, it helps pay the rent."
"Okay. I think we can settle for drinks and food," I shrugs. "Come on out front, Frumple, and I'll let you buy me a drink to show there's no hard feelin's."
"You're too kind," the Deveel grumbles, but he follows me out of the office.
"I think champagne would be appropriate to seal our agreement, don't you?" I sez. "White champagne."
"White champagne?"
"Of course," I smiles, glad for a chance to show off my knowledge and culture. "This here is a sushi bar, ain't it? You think I don't know what color champagne to have with fish?"
Chapter Nine:
"Manners are acquired, not inherited!"
S. PENN
THINGS ARE PRETTY sweet for a while after I make our arrangement with Frumple. The reduced costs of our off-hour drinkin' are a real boon on the scut wages the army is payin' us, and the Deveel sure had the right of it when he said his sushi bar was a happy huntin' grounds when it came to broads. Of course, 'broads' is perhaps a misnomenclature for the type of women what hang out at this establishment evenings. These was not the usual gum-snappin, vacant-eyed skirts we are used to assoriatin' with, but rather the classy, fashion-wise young female executive with a lot on the ball what normally wouldn't give lunks like us the time of day. It seems that once we invaded the sanctuary of these upwardly mobile females, however, they was open-minded enough to give us serious consideration in their own deliberations. While I will not try to comment on which of these two types of females actually makes for better companions, there are things to be said for each ... though not all those things are complimentary.
There are two flies which mar our enjoyment of this ointment, however, and here I am not referrin' to the Flie brothers. First, there is the ever-present danger of runnin' into someone from the Mob, as Frumple's comments have confirmed our suspicion that they maintain some kind of presence here. Second, there is the annoyin' detail that we are supposed to be working on an assignment, not havin' a good time. Naturally, this is the subject of no small amount of conversation between Nunzio and me.
"The trouble is, we can't really do a good job of disruptin' without movin' around town," I was sayin' durin' one such discussion, "and if we move around town, then the odds of our runnin' into someone from the Mob goes way up!"
"Then we'll have to see what we can stir up from right here," my cousin sez. "When you stop to think about it, this is a pretty good setup for it ... makin' trouble, I mean. Most of these women have husbands at home, and even the ones that don't have sufficient standing in the community that if it comes to an altercation, the local authorities will have to take her side of it."
"Why do you say that? I mean, why should messin' with these broads cause any more hassle than any others?"
Instead of answerin' right away, Nunzio leans back and gives me the hairy eyeball for a few minutes.
"Guido," he says at last, "Are you tryin' to be stupid just to get a rise out of me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you yourself said that our commander told us that it was okay if we messed with bimbos, but to leave the respectable women alone. Yet now that I am tryin' to put together a specific course of action, you are actin' like it is a brandnew concept
to you."
"It just seems to me that it is a revoltin' form of class bias and bigotry," I sez, "assumin' that a woman's respectability is a matter of her financial standin' and education. Wouldn't it be better if it were the other way around? I mean, if a woman's respectability determined where she stood in the financial order instead of the other way around?"
"There are two problems with that," Nunzio sez. "First of all, the same unfair standard is applied to men as well ... meanin' it holds for everyone, not just women. Them what is rich and educated is always deemed more respectable ... if for no other reason than they wield more power and pay more taxes."
"That's true," I sez, noddin' thoughtful-like. "The second problem is that it's completely off the subject of what we was discussin' ... which is to say how to cause disruption."
"It is?"
"What is more, any time you try to start a philosophical discussion with me, it is to be taken as a sure sign that you are deliberately tryin' to divert my attention ... as normally you avoid such conversations like a subpoena."
I say nothin' when he pauses, as he seems to have me cold. I had been tryin' to change the subject.
"All of this, the attempt at stupidity and the lame effort at philosophical discussion, leads me to believe that for some reason you are stalling and do not wish to commence working on our assignment. Am I right?"
I avoid his eyes and shrug kinda vague-like.
"Come on, Cuz, talk to me," Nunzio urges. "Are you really havin' so much fun playing soldier that you want to prolong the experience?"
"That is not only silly, it is insultin'!" I sez, my annoyance overcomin' my embarrassment at havin' been caught.
"Then what is it? ... If you don't mind my asking?"
"Well ... to be honest with youse, Nunzio, I feel a little funny stirrin' up trouble at this particular location, seein' as how it was me what did the negotiatin' with Frumple to not cause him any grief."
Nunzio throws back his head and gives a bark of laughter ... which to me is a dubious way to express his sympathy at my plight.
"Let me get this straight," he sez. "You're worrying about dealing fair with a Deveel?"
"You may laugh," I sez, "though I suggest you not do it often when I am the subject of your amusement. Allow me to remind youse, however, that even though Deveels are notoriously hard bargainers, it is also true that once a deal has been struck, they are equally scrupulous about stickin' to the letter of said agreement. As such, it occurs to me that failin' to honor one's own end of such an agreement is to place oneself in a position of bein' even less trustworthy than a Deveel ... which is not a label I relish hangin' upon myself."
"Okay ... let's examine the letter of said agreement," Nunzio shrugs. "What you agreed to was that we would neither trash his establishment, nor would we reveal the true nature of his identity as a Deveel. Correct?"
"Well ... yeah."
"... Neither of which conditions is broken by us directing our attentions to the lovelies which have taken to making this establishment their after-hours habitat ... even if our attentions should turn out to be unwelcome."
"I suppose ... but don't you think that such activity would violate at least the spirit of our agreement, by which I mean the implication that we would not make trouble for our host?"
"That is the portion of your discomfort which I find the most amusing," Nunzio sez with an infuriatin' grin. "Realizing that Deveels make their living as well as their reputation by honoring the letter rather than the spirit of their agreements, I think it is ironic that you are recoiling from dealing with them with the same ethic that they deal with others."
I consider this for a few minutes, then take a deep breath and blow it out noisily.
"You know, cousin," I sez. "You're right. I mean, when you're right, you're right ... know what I mean?"
"I do," Nunzio frowned, "which is in itself a little disturbing."
"So ... when do you think we should start?"
"Well ... how about right now?"
While my cousin has convinced me that it would be within the bounds of ethical behavior to launch our campaign, such an accelerated-type timetable catches me unawares.
"Excuse me?"
"I said how about starting right now. Opportunity should be seized when it presents itself ... and right now there is a young lady at the bar who has been checking you out for the last several minutes."
I sneak a peek in the direction he is lookin', and sure enough ... there is one of those classy broads I have been tellin' you about, a blonde to be specific, perched on a bar stool and starin' right at me. I know this to be true, 'cause though for a minute I thought she was lookin' at someone else, as soon as our eyes meet, she closes one eye in a broad wink and smiles.
"Nunzio," I sez, duckin' my head and turnin' my back on her. "There is one more problem I have neglected to mention to you."
"What's that?"
"Well, though my manners with broads are perhaps not as polished as they should be, they are nonetheless the best I have managed to acquire over the years. That is to say, I am normally on my best behavior with females, so the idea of tryin' to act so offensive that they call for help is not particularly comfortable to me. Mind you, I am sayin' I would have difficulty doin' this with the ordinary broads I am accustomed to dealin' with, and to tell you the truth, I find the kind of classy broads that hang out here more than a little intimidatin'. I'm not sure I can start a conversation with one, much less summon the courage to try to be offensive."
"Well, I don't think that starting a conversation is going to be a problem," Nunzio sez.
"Why not?"
"Because the lady in question is on her way over to our table already."
Surprised, I swing my head back around to check things out for myself ... and come dangerously close to plantin' my nose in the broad's cleavage, as she is much closer to our table than Nunzio had indicated.
"Oops ... Sorry!" I sez, though it occurred to me as I said it that it was not a great start to bein' offensive.
"No problem," she sez. "A girl likes to feel appreciated. Mind if I join you?"
Somethin' about the way she grins while sayin' this is familiar ... or at least, decidedly unladylike. Before I can comment, however, Nunzio has taken over.
"Certainly. In fact, you can have my chair ... I was just leaving anyway. Catch you later, Guido ... and remember what we were talking about."
With that, he gives me a big wink and wanders off, leavin' me alone with the skirt ... who wastes no time plantin' her curvaceous bottom on the chair my cousin has so graciously vacated.
"So ... I haven't seen you in here before."
"What?"
I have been so busy thinkin' about what I am goin' to do to Nunzio to repay him for his "graciousness" that I nearly miss the broad's openin' gambit.
"Oh. No, we just got into town this week. This seems to be turnin' out to be our main hangout, though."
"Hey, that's terrific! This is one of my favorite spots. It's my first time in this week, though. Girl's got to do the rounds to keep up with what's going on in town ... like when new soldiers arrive."
Although I have been feelin' self-conscious about meetin' one of these high class skirts, this one seems real easy to talk to ... like I'd known her for years. Whafs more, she is certainly not at all hard on the eyes, if you know what I mean.
"Say," I sez, "can I get you somthin' to drink? A wine spritzer, maybe?"
"Bourbon. Rocks. Water back."
"Say what?"
I mean, it isn't just that she drinks stronger hootch than I would have expected, it is the way she rattled it off. I decide it is not this chick's first time into a bar ... a decision made easier by the fact she has already told me as much.
"Better still," she sez, "isn't there somewhere else we can go?"
This is a rough one. Abdul's is the only joint in town I have frequented so far.
"Ummmm ..." I sez, thinkin' fast, "I have heard of some place around he
re where there's open stage entertainment."
Mind you, I am not wild about takin' this skirt somewhere where I might run into my commandin' officer, but I figure she'll be impressed with my willingness to spring for a good time.
"I was thinking someplace more like the rooms upstairs," she sez, leanin' forward to smile at me real close.
I am taken a little aback by the forwardness of this suggestion, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. When a high-class babe like this approaches a low-brow Joe like me in a bar, she is not usually after witty conversation ... which, in my case, is fortunate.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: It has been brought to my attention by some of my test readers that the concepts in this Chapter and those that immediately follow are a marked change of pace from the normal MYTH content. In this, I fear it may be my sad duty to introduce to some readers for the first time the horrifying reality that there are a few sick, twisted, perverted individuals who approach members of the opposite sex in singles bars for purposes other than pleasant conversation! I feel free to identify them as such in this book, since it is a well known fact that such blots on the shining history of mankind do not read, making me relatively safe from legal action. Incidentally, this is also why the question "Read any good books lately?" has become such a popular way of screening whom one does or doesn't talk to under such circumstances. I will leave it to you how to answer if the question is ever addressed to you. Meanwhile, back to the story ...)
As I was sayin' before I was so rudely interrupted, I am at a bit of a loss as to how to respond to this advance.
"Right now?" I sez. "Don't you want to talk for a while first?"
"What's wrong? Don't you like me?" she sez, startin' to pout a little. "Should I go peddle my wares somewhere else?"
"Peddle?"
"Watch it," she sez, flat and nasty. "It's a figure of speech."
"Oh."
I am vastly relieved to hear this. The only thing more depressin' to a sensitive guy like me than learnin' that a female is interested in him for his body and not his mind is learnin' that her real interest is in his wallet.
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