Skulduggery 2

by Logan Jacobs

  “Oh shit, Wade, you’re right.” Dar’s curly hair peeked over the rim of the tub. “The water is turning yellow when I scrub it down.”

  “It’ll be easier once Penny adds the soap,” I said as I waved to the halfling. “I’ll head back as soon as I’m done meeting with the count.”

  “Go do what you do best,” Dar’s voice was muffled as he went back to scrubbing the tank, and then Cimarra and I walked out of the stable and toward the back of the theatre.

  “Does the count know he’s meeting with me?” I asked as she intertwined her arm with mine.

  “He does,” the dancer answered. “I wasn’t sure if he’d agree if he knew that, but he did.”

  “Makes sense,” I murmured as we walked in the back door, turned the corner, and went down the stairs.

  “I think he finally understands how desperate of a situation the theatre is in,” she continued. “He won’t let you know it, but you hold the bargaining power in this meeting.”

  “Thanks for setting this up,” I said with a smile.

  “No need to thank me.” She flashed her blue diamond eyes. “I believe in you.”

  I nodded as we passed the cafeteria that smelled like baked fish. I wondered if they caught them from the river, and I thought of the kiss Penny and I shared.

  “Before we go to his office, I need to talk to you about something.” I stopped in the middle of the hallway since I assumed the opened door a few steps from us was the count’s.

  “Of course.” Cimarra blinked up at me.

  “It meant a lot to me for you to offer Penny your room,” I began, “but I always want to be honest and open with you as things--”

  “Wade?” Cimarra smirked. “I know you both have serious feelings for each other. I was there that night, too, remember?”

  “I know, but I still need you to understand how much I care for you, too.”

  “Don’t let this distract you from the meeting.” Cimarra brought her hand to my face. “I know how much you care for me, and I see how much you care for Penny. It’s fine.”

  “I … ” I searched for what to say because I had no words.

  “As long as your heart can handle us both,” she replied as she gently pointed to my chest, “that’s all that matters. Powerful men should take care of many women.”

  “I don’t know what to s--”

  “Then don’t say anything,” the dancer said as she gave me a half smile. “This world is harsh and unforgiving. Why can’t we all share in a bit of pleasure? Now, before we go in, I wanted to tell you my business plan. It’s still a work in progress, but bear with me.”

  “You’re something else,” I smirked. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “We offer a deal to the count that puts us in a position to handle everything business related with the theatre,” Cimarra explained and cleared her throat. “Once we have control over the finances, we begin our relaunch.”

  “What’s the first step?” I asked.

  “We would need a little start-up money to help with some advertising. I was thinking around ten to fifteen gold to distribute a bunch of flyers, or even construct a billboard along the main strip in the Entertainment District.”

  “Okay,” I said as I tapped my chin. “I think that’s more than doable with the amount of gold we have saved up and what we get from Hebal every week.”

  “After we create a buzz, we gather some better acts like we’ve had in the past and put on our first show,” Cimarra said. “But more importantly, we also reveal our whiskey.”

  “I like it so far.” I nodded.

  “Now as for the profits and the count.” The dancer turned to check if the count had exited his office. “I say we take one hundred percent of the whiskey profits, split the theatre revenue with the count, but allow him to continue to host the show. I think that should be a sweet enough deal for him.”

  “If it isn’t, I’ll do some convincing.” I smirked. “Great job with this, you don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

  “This is what I love to do,” the dancer said as she pulled me down to her and kissed me, but not for long as the tapping from a rod against the wall interrupted us.

  “Are you going to keep me waiting?” The count stood outside his office in a dirty red suit that matched his face.

  “Uh, no, you’ve met--” Cimarra began before the count pointed the tip of his cane at her.

  “You must be joking, girl,” he cut her off as he aimed his cane at me. “And who exactly do you think you are?”

  “If you forgot my name, it’s--”

  “I know your name, you buffoon.” His dark eyes bulged from his crimson face. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Both Cimarra and I followed him in and sat on the elegant black chairs in front of his desk. The egg-shaped man had his chair turned away from us and faced a wall of books. I thought it strange since I didn’t peg him as an avid reader or all that studious.

  “Is it even possible to have a favorite out of all these?” I nodded toward his books as his chair swiveled around to face us.

  “Each book carries its own reward,” he replied as he spun around in his chair and glanced at Cimarra. “I consider books to be man’s trophies. With the elves ruling over us, it’s important to remember where humanity came from.”

  “I agree, I respect a man who reads,” I began, “and I want to respect your wishes. So, if your attitude is still the same as it was out in the hallway, then I will honor your wishes and not waste your time any longer.”

  I sensed Cimarra staring a hole through me by my side, but I thought I was reading the chubby bastard correctly. Cimarra had said he had a large ego. And men with huge egos liked having them stroked just as much as they liked their cocks being stroked.

  “No,” the count breathed as he peered at Cimarra again. “I agreed to this talk, and I’m a man who honors his word.”

  “Well, I appreciate that very much, so with that I’d li--“

  “As long as you understand one thing,” he cut me off, arched his thin eyebrows, and twitched his mustache.

  “What’s that?” I clenched my jaw as I awaited the bullshit that was about to slap me in the face.

  “We may both be human men, but I have worked my entire life to reach where I am today.” He leaned back in the red chair that had broad shoulders like him. “I’ve set the foundation for men like you to even come in here and have a discussion. Whatever success you have is due to me, and I expect respect in that regard. This meeting isn’t about you helping me. It’s about you understanding the amazing things I have created in this world.”

  A brief silence permeated the room as both the count and I locked eyes.

  This motherfucker.

  “You may think and say whatever you wish, but I respectfully disagree with your statement,” I said as I crossed my leg over my knee.

  “Then this meeting will get a little bumpy.” The count narrowed his eyes and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

  Did he expect to fight or something?

  “I’m fine with some bumps, as long as you are,” I replied with a smile.

  “Before we begin, I’d like to remind you both of the reason we called this meeting,” Cimarra intervened as she realized we were already butting heads. “Is that okay with you both?”

  I nodded, but the count didn’t.

  “No need, we already know the situation.” He crossed his arms in front of his belly.

  “Why don’t you start this off, Wade?” Cimarra cleared her throat.

  “I’d love to,” I said and leaned forward in my seat. “Your theatre is--”

  “Watch your words,” the count cut me off.

  “Your theatre has seen better days, am I right?” I restrained myself and hoped my face looked friendly.

  “I’d agree with that, yes.” He nodded as he stroked his mustache.

  “I’d also say this theatre is an important part of our culture in the realm, and when I say our, I am referring to humanity.” I g
estured toward him. “Would you also agree with that?”

  “I would.” He nodded again.

  “With that being said, my only aim for this meeting is to help you figure out what needs to be done to save this historic attraction from being demolished by the elves,” I continued diplomatically, “because you realize that’s exactly what would happen.”

  The count’s mustache twitched again as he thought.

  “Okay, what did you have in mind then?” he demanded in a stern voice.

  “Would you even believe me if I told you I can save your theatre?” I asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he chuckled. “If I can’t, then how could you?”

  “Do you offer any kind of food or drink to your customers?” I prodded and searched for the inlet to talk about the whiskey.

  “I used to back in the day,” he replied as his head tilted upward. “We offered candies, popcorn, fizz pops, and water.”

  “But you don’t anymore?” I questioned.

  “No, we had to cut that shortly after we realized the theatre was hurting.” He shrugged. “Supplying candies and drinks that not everyone wants is a waste of money.”

  “I agree with you one hundred percent.” I clapped my hands and jolted him and Cimarra. “What if you offered a drink everyone wants?”

  His face furrowed, and his eyes searched the room as if I wasn’t real.

  “Are you some water salesmen or something?” He turned to Cimarra. “What is this about?”

  “I’d keep listening if I were you.” The beautiful dancer gestured for me to continue.

  “What aren’t you following?” I challenged the chubby man.

  “What drink would everyone want … ” His eyes widened as the realization struck him. “Are you talking about alcohol?”

  “If I was, what would your thoughts be on that?” I played it safe to feel him out.

  “You know why we found ourselves deep in this hole, right?” His face burned red again. “If anyone would, it should be you, Cimarra.”

  “So, you would be against it?” I poked with a question again.

  “Lividly, yes.” The count smacked the desk. “Two dwarf heads were torn off because we somehow allowed whiskey to be served within these walls. Now, everyone is fearful another elven raid will happen at any moment during my show!”

  “It’s understandable you feel that way, the incident was quite traumatic if I say so myself since I was there that night,” I said and held my eyes on his.

  “Was it your alcohol?” The count stood to his feet and pointed to Cimarra. “Did you know this?”

  “She didn’t,” I lied.

  “It was yours?” the count demanded with narrowed eyes.

  “It was … ” I said and kept my eyes locked with his.

  “Get out of my office.” He sat back down but pointed to his door. “Do you hear me?”

  Neither Cimarra nor I moved an inch.

  “I do.” I stood up, and the dancer’s shoulders stiffened, and then I walked over to the door and shut it. “Are you hearing me?”

  “I’m not selling or partnering with some crook.” The count leaned across his desk to Cimarra. “How could you even consider this to be an option?”

  “It’s the--” the dancer sighed.

  “I’m not interested in buying your theatre?” I cut Cimarra off. “This is your theatre that you’ve built from the ground up.”

  “I’m sorry?” The count’s nose wrinkled as his eyes shifted to me. “What’s your point?”

  “For the billionth time, to save your theatre,” I said as I moved back to the plush black chair and sat down. “That’s your desire, isn’t it?”

  “Well, absolutely it is, yes, but I’m not working with some crook only interested in making money for himse--”

  “It wouldn’t be a productive business meeting if only one of us were happy,” I chuckled. “But my whiskey can save your theatre.”

  “Don’t you miss the days where you could provide your audience with magical acts from all over the realm?” Cimarra asked the count, and his face looked like he might be sick.

  “How?” he muttered as he held his head.

  “You allow me to sell my whiskey in the theatre, as long as no elf is present,” I tapped my finger on his desk, “I keep all the profits from the whiskey sales and split the profit of ticket sales with you. As word spreads, suddenly your theatre is filling up again. You’d have the hottest spot in the realm.”

  “You know it would work,” Cimarra chimed in.

  “How many people does it take to sell out a show?” I asked.

  “One-thousand,” he scoffed, “and even in the good days we never sold out a show.

  “What if you sold out at least one show a week,” I began, “then two, three, four, and every single show … ”

  “You’ve got that much whiskey?” the count laughed. “You’ve been smoking too many herbs.”

  “Not yet, but we can scale with you,” I replied.

  I’d dump Hebal to the curb if the shows were selling out nightly. Then I’d jump back into the Dwarf District on our own since I knew who Hebal was selling to. It wouldn’t be overnight, though.

  “How would we handle the drunks?” the count asked.

  “A two-drink limit for everyone,” I suggested. “That’s two silver per person on top of your entrance fee.”

  “We split the whiskey profits too,” he said as he adjusted his overcoat and glared at me.

  “No, I take all the whiskey profits, while your theatre overflows with people who watch your show.” I gestured where I thought the stage was.

  “Then we don’t have a deal and now,” he clenched his jaw, and when he did, it looked like two tiny fists appeared from the side of his face, “I know you sell and make whiskey.”

  “You don’t want to travel down this road,” I sighed.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he scoffed. “I think my offer is more than fair. We split the whiskey profits too, and I allow you to remain alive by not turning you into the elves.”

  “You forget the current state of your theatre,” I sneered. “Without my help, you’ll be done in a month.”

  “Yet, here you are talking with me … ” The count stood and leaned on his cane. “You need a place to dump your whiskey and remain hidden, right?”

  “I’m talking with you because we can both benefit--”

  “Answer my question,” the count cut me off as he walked to his bookshelf.

  “Right,” I sighed, “and you need to save your business, that’s why I’m here.”

  “You a reader, Wade?” He thumbed through a book he pulled from the shelf. “I know Cimarra is.”

  “I don’t have access to a lot of books these days,” I said as I squeezed the chair’s armrest.

  “Sure, sure, most humans don’t.” He turned around with a book open in his palm as if he were about to preach. “To answer your earlier question about having a favorite, this one is it.”

  A few moments passed as his eyes moved across the page he opened the book to.

  “Sir, what does this have to do with what we were discussing?” Cimarra asked and fidgeted in her seat next to me.

  “Oh, everything, it has everything to do with our discussion.” The count closed the book and placed it on his desk. “We’ve come to an impasse.”

  “I’m not following you,” I said and sat up straighter in my seat.

  “This story is quite a childish fable, but it’s still my favorite.” He pointed to the book as he leaned his cane on the corner of the desk and sat back down. “It’s about a snake that wishes it had feet.”

  “Count,” Cimarra huffed, “you need--”

  “I don’t need to do anything else, but tell you that in this story, the snake wishes it had feet. Why? You’re probably wondering.” The count leaned back in his broad chair. “He was tired of being on his belly, of being the lowest of the low, and of being stepped on. As humans, can you see why this story resonates with me?”<
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  “Yes,” I hissed. I wanted to stab this man’s fat throat that throbbed with each word he said.

  “I believe your product would help my theatre, and we’d both make a lot of money but … ” he placed his hand over the book, “I will not return to my belly and have your stinking foot over my head, waiting to squash me.”

  I took a deep breath and fought against my anger. I was afraid this would happen. I’d opened myself up to the fat asshole, and now he had some leverage over me. I had three choices now to prevent him from ratting on me: I could abandon my business, I could kill him, or I could show him he wasn’t in charge anymore.

  Fuck me. This was what happened when I tried to be nice to people.

  “You don’t have to worry about being on your belly if you’ll work with me.” I stood, walked around to his side of the desk, and leaned against the corner next to his cane. “It seems you’re not willing to work with me, though.”

  He reached for his cane, but I reached for it at the same time, too.

  “What’re you doing?” The count’s voice cracked as we both held onto his black walking stick.

  “I tried to be patient with you, even after your threat to turn me in, and your story about the little snake.” I tugged the cane from his hands with ease. “It’s over now.”

  He tried to get up, but I dug the cane into his rib cage and pushed him backward into the chair. Then I crossed in front of him with the cane’s tip aimed at his heart.

  “What? You’re going to kill me if I don’t accept your terms, now?” His chin trembled, and his eyes darted to the cane on his chest. He then looked to Cimarra and finally back to me.

  “You’ve already missed your chance to accept the terms,” I snarled, shoved the cane into his chest, and pushed him and his chair onto the floor. He looked like a cockroach stuck on its back with his arms and legs wiggling in every direction.

  “Cimarra, you want me dead?” he croaked out from the ground. “After all I’ve done for you?”

  “She doesn’t want you dead,” I whispered as I tapped the cane against his throat, “but I’ve decided to kill you. See, you just know too much now.”

  “Noooo,” he whined, and then he let out a grunt of agony when I slammed the cane into his stomach.

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked as I hit him again.