Authors: Kracken
“Tomorrow is the release of the new
Techen Gravi Five
DVD,” Marius said as if saying something as important as the end of world hunger. “I blacked out the windows. Tomorrow morning I’ll strip off the black and reveal the posters. Sales will be off the charts.”
That statement made Donny look around the bar/café/dance club. How many people there were interested in anime? “Anime,” he clarified, “Those are Japanese movies?”
“
Adult
Japanese animated movies and series,” Marius corrected as if Donny had just revealed that he was the worst kind of rube.
“Do you mind if I ask how you advertised for this event?”
Marius snorted, “Advertise? The release of
Techen Gravi Five
is huge, Donny. People will flock to their nearest anime shop or online store to buy it.”
“Nearest,” Donny repeated. “Are you the nearest store to the places where fans are likely to live?”
Marius flared his nostrils and a fat finger tapped on the table. “We don’t have anime loving communities, Donny. We’re everywhere!”
“Still, some advertising to assure that people in other areas come to your store might have been very effective,” Donny pointed out. “I’ve been discussing this with Burton as well. If we come together, have community events and advertise collectively in ways that get people in other areas to visit these shops, then you have a much better chance of staying in business.”
Marius looked troubled. “Things have been… slow, for everyone. Some people, like Burton, are feeling pressured to sell before they go out of business.”
“You’re not in any trouble?” Donny wondered.
Marius frowned as he opened his netbook, “Things have been slow,” he repeated. “Anime never gets old, though. It’ll pick up.” He turned the netbook towards Donny, “Look, let’s not talk about advertising and going out of business. Do you think Burton will want to keep some of my stock in his store? For a modest price, he can have a manga rack.”
“Manga?”
“Japanese books. They’re heavily illustrated and very popular with the college crowd.”
“There isn’t a college near here,” Donny pointed out. “Do you get college students in your store?”
Marius closed his laptop, “Look, I’m giving you an opportunity to pull old man Burton out of his financial hole, not insult me.”
“He won’t accomplish that by filling his store with merchandise that doesn’t sell,” Donny snapped back, feeling a rise of temper. “I won’t let you take advantage of him.”
“Most of his books don’t sell,” Marius retorted. “He needs to update, but he won’t even put in a proper register.”
“With your inventory, that’s for college students who don’t live in this area?” Donny shot back.
A lanky, middle aged man sat down at Donny’s table between him and Marius. Marius looked annoyed. “Caesar,” he grumbled.
“Marius,” the man mock grumbled back. He held out a hand to Donny. “You’re Burton’s new project?”
“Project?” Donny echoed in confusion.
“Bird fallen out of the nest,” Caesar explained and then again, when Donny still looked mystified, “Young man in need of some fatherly care.”
Donny understood then and felt an uncomfortable blush. “I suppose so.”
“The man does have a soft heart.” The man was balding, but he sported bushy gray eyebrows and a prominent nose that seemed a rudder for his clear blue eyes. He was dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “I’m Caesar, owner of Caesar’s Chariots. It’s a scooter shop.”
“Don’t talk about it,” Marius warned, “or he’ll tell you how you’re running your business wrong.”
Caesar raised bushy eyebrows at Donny without giving Marius’s comment any notice. “A fool ignores good advice at his peril,” he intoned.
“
If
it’s good,” Marius retorted.
Caesar looked around for the waiter and motioned to catch his attention. “Basket of cheese fries and a beer!” He smiled at Donny. “Financial advice on an empty stomach is always a bad idea.”
“Who’s your pretty friend?” A feminine voice asked.
The woman who sat down was past her forties, but still looked firm and supple in her black Victorian clothing. A tight shirt with ruffles, overlaid by a waistcoat that buttoned straight jacket tight, accented the long skirt that seemed made of black lace and black ribbons. Her stiletto black boots gave her an impressive height. Her motion of sitting down seemed a flutter of material and well executed poise.
Gray eyes lined with heavy mascara and ruby red lips dominated a small, heart shaped face. Her gray hair was swept up in a tight Victorian hair style. The woman held out a black gloved hand. Donny felt expensive leather as he gingerly shook it.
“My name’s Donny, I work at Burton’s book store.”
“Ah, another project,” she chuckled softly. “I’m Anna Sinclair. I own the vintage dress shop.” She motioned her hand in the air and called out, as if the waiter would, of course, be listening for her order, “Coffee with caramel and praline cookies!”
She leaned in and that imperious hand rested on Donny’s forearm as she said, “He gets all of his sweets from Burton. The man is an amazing baker.”
“Does Burton get paid for them?” Donny wondered and wasn’t surprised when she chuckled again.
“No.” She leaned back and her manner became more reserved. “He enjoys sharing his genius.”
Somehow, Donny thought, she had divined his disinterest in her sex. She seemed a little bored now, eyes touching on the other patrons as the waiter, who had been listening, it seemed, delivered her order promptly. Caesar raised bushy eyebrows at the fact that his order was no where in sight.
The woman took a delicate sip of her coffee and looked pleased. “I’m glad Burtie has someone to help him out in the shop. Maybe you can convince him to carry some of my jewelry?”
“For a modest fee?” Donny guessed sourly.
“Of course. I am a fair woman. I don’t take advantage.”
Caesar rolled his eyes and then looked delighted when the waiter brought his order. He made a motion to everyone. “Go ahead, I share.”
Donny fished a cheese fry from the basket and ate one. It was good. When he had swallowed he said, “It seems that everyone who owns a shop needs sales, otherwise you wouldn’t want to spread your stock to other stores in order to sell it.”
“Very astute,” Caesar replied and saluted him with a drippy cheese fry before eating it.
Donny cocked his head at him. “You haven’t suggested that I keep some of your scooters.”
The man smiled. “I like the Persian motto of,
Never discuss business sober
. I was hoping to soften you up with a few drinks first.”
Donny sat back in his chair and took a long drink. He put his glass down firmly on the table. “Since I don’t intend to get drunk tonight, maybe we should discuss business now?”
“If you could try to convince Burton-” Caesar began, but Donny cut him off.
“I’m not using up space in the store selling the same thing that a customer can walk down the street to buy,” he replied. “If I’m going to convince Burton of anything it’s to sell his baking and make unique additions to his shop.”
Anna was eating her praline cookies with a pinkie finger extended. She took a bite, looked over her cookie at Donny speculatively, and then, after swallowing and licking her red lips as if to give herself time to think, she replied, “I’m not certain that even unique inventory will keep the book store open. Our shops are closer to the bar down the street. That gives us more business from passers-by. Caesar gets business from a community that doesn’t drive for the most part. They need scooters.”
“And yet your businesses are not doing very well,” Donny reminded her.
She made a pout that was too young for her and one long fingered hand played with the buttons on her waist coat. “You know your facts, Donny, I won’t deny it.”
“We should get together and discuss it with Burton,” Donny suggested. “I think if we work together, we can improve everyone’s chances of making sales.”
Marius sniffed. “I don’t see why you’re such an expert. Who
are
you anyway?”
Nobody, Donny almost replied, but he stopped that. He was some body, even if he wasn’t the Mayor’s son. “I have a lot of experience with dealing with the public. I know what makes them excited and what bores them.”
“You won’t charge a consulting fee?” Anna asked as if the very idea was gauche.
“No,” Donny replied, “Burton is already paying me.”
“Not much, I’m sure,” Caesar guessed.
“I have a free room and all the baked goods and coffee I can eat,” Donny replied. “Paradise.”
“We should get the other shop owners in on this,” Marius suggested.
“A town hall meeting?” Anna asked, becoming excited by the prospect. “Where shall we meet?”
“Lowry Park,” Caesar suggested. “It has benches and tables.”
“Sounds good,” Donny replied.
If
Burton agreed, he thought sourly. He was making serious decisions on the old man’s behalf and he wasn’t certain if they would be welcome.
“What time should we arrive?” Caesar asked.
“I’ll see what a good day and time is for Burton and call you,” Donny hedged.
“Good, good,” Caesar agreed and then the topic went in other directions.
Donny found the companionable conversation and the odd company surprisingly relaxing. They accepted him as if he had always been a part of their group, as if they were in the habit of absorbing anyone new they met. It was possible that they were. They seemed to know everyone and people were familiar enough to join their group, or leave it, whenever the whim struck them to join other groups. Donny was used to cliques with insurmountable walls, this was something new, a community of free spirits who wouldn’t have known a social barrier if they had run face first into it.
He had to admit that it was hard to go with the flow, to accept everyone who grabbed a chair and sat down as a friend to be included in whatever conversation they were having. Baskets of food were shared, drinks went around, money left on the table for the bill was sometimes enough and sometimes not, yet no one said anything about it.
At the end of the evening, people finally began filtering out on to the street. Groups gathered there are left walking in small knots for unknown destinations.
Anna pulled up her gloves and tilted her chin with a smile as if she had just stepped out of a Victorian portrait. She said with a cultured air, “I can see why Burton adores you. You are intelligent and very engaging.”
Donny felt a small blush. He was relieved of having to reply by Caesar giving him a hearty goodbye and a slap on the back. Marius sniffed and frowned as if annoyed but he held out a hand to shake Donny’s and said a pleasant enough goodbye as well.
“I’ll call,” Donny promised again.
They nodded and left him, walking in a companionable group in the other direction. The dim street lights, the thinning crowds coming from the shops, café’s, and bars beginning to close, and his own anxiety about Peter’s visit the next morning gave Donny an abandoned feeling that he didn’t like.
“You’re pretty.”
A young man had walked by Donny with his hands in tight jean pockets and a biker jacket slung on narrow shoulders. His white t-shirt and slicked blonde hair reminded Donny of a fifties biker. The diamond stud in his ear and the gold hanging at every point on his thin body told Donny that he was well off.
“Too pretty to be hangin’ with these weirdos,” another voice snickered.
Donny turned and saw three more young men coming out of the darkness towards him. These men were older and larger than Donny or the
biker boy
. Donny felt trouble in the air and took the few steps to put himself between the men and the young man.
The younger man was stepping away from Donny, though, and backing up towards the men. When he stood with them, and the biggest one draped a friendly arm over his shoulder, Donny realized that he was the only one in possible danger.
“Why don’t you hook up with us?” The younger man was leaning back into the others, smiling like a cat, soft and friendly for the moment, but ready to shred prey at a moment’s notice. “I can tell you’re not from around here. If you came to have some fun too, it’s better as a group.”
He looked familiar. It took a long moment for Donny to place him. He was the Governor’s son, Stone Farlane. This was someone whose friendship was to be courted and cultivated. The man could give him an important position and let him be seen by important people. If Donny wanted to climb back to the top of society, this was his chance.
“What kind of fun?” Donny asked with a smile.
Stone grinned in return and gestured to the community at large, “This is the perfect time of night; lots of those little weirdo girls going home alone. We pluck a few and make them squeal.”
“This is a long way from home for that kind of fun,” Donny pointed out.
“Don’t want that sort of thing in our own backyard, you understand?” Stone chuckled and his men chuckled with him.
Donny felt sick. It was his own reasoning echoing back to him out of this young man’s lips only he had been less delicate about the wording.
You don’t shit in your own backyard
. How many nights had he gone down to poor neighborhoods to have unapproved fun? How many people had he used and abused? How many men had he dropped his pants for without caring what happened after?
Stone sighed, “What an expression on your face! Maybe I was wrong about you? You might be from around here, but have more expensive taste in clothing? In that case, I really can’t have you wandering around and telling everyone about our fun.”
“I don’t like women,” Donny blurted.
Stone’s eyes went a bit wide and one of his men grumbled a slur. Stone frowned at the man and then shrugged. “Our fun differs, then.” He gave Donny an appraising look. “You know, I have always wanted to see how you… people… do it. Maybe you could give us all… a demonstration?” He made a motion to one of his men. “Mark, get me someone…”
“I’m not giving a show!” Donny exploded while his mind displayed moments in his life when he hadn’t cared who had been watching or how many.