Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(41)

I honestly had no clue. We were never great friends or anything. We had probably worked with each other and not known it, too.

“What was the first job you remember with me?” I asked. “I seem to recall it was breaking into that guy’s apartment,” and I struggled to push away the dust in my memory, “but it was like the wrong guy’s apartment, so we broke into someone else’s and that one was wrong too.”

“I don’t think that was me,” Been-e said. “I think it was the Girl Strike. Like ninety years ago or abouts.”

I shook my head, indicating it didn’t ring a bell.

“Remember, like all the girls went on strike. The guys too. Anyone who was one of those type of jobs, you know?”

“This was probably before my time,” I said.

“No. You’ve been here longer than me. Come on. You weren’t such a big deal then, I remember. But people knew you and everyone was like, ‘ask Hank, ask Hank,’ and I was like, ‘Hank, who?’”

“So what happened?” I asked, perversely interested in more tall tales about myself.

“We didn’t know what to do. They wanted a ton more pay and there was no way it was going to happen. And all the bars practically shut down, because as much as people want to drink—”

“They want to drink with someone pretty,” I finished.

“Yeah. But anyway, there were some fellows who had the idea to rough up the girls to get them to agree and you were like, ‘If we beat them up, we’ll never get a date again.’ It was a real touchy situation. So you suggested the bosses like sweet-talk the girls. Send them candy and flowers and gifts and stuff and talk about how they miss them.”

“This kind of sounds familiar,” I agreed, a smile on my face.

“Right, so all these big bosses are reciting poetry and playing music and making complete asses of themselves. Some of the bosses didn’t do it. You know because of their egos. And they stayed closed. But the ones who did it, they eventually got their people back. They spent money to do it, but it was more the whole appreciation thing.”

“Hmm,” I said, my arms behind my head. It was almost like I had just finished this job and was relishing in my own success.

“That’s when people were really like, ‘not only can this guy crack heads, but he’s smart,’” Been-e added.

“Well, I don’t know about that. It’s all relative. And relative to Belvaille, you know?”

“Yeah, true that. But, I figure we’ve known each other about ninety years. I’ve been shot maybe ten times working with you and I have no idea how many times you been shot. A million, maybe?” Been-e laughed.

“I never shot you, did I?” I asked.

“Once. But that’s okay. It was just how things went. And unlike a lot of guys, I know you weren’t trying to cut me down or nothing,” he said nonchalantly.

“Oh. Well. Sorry and all.”

He waved it off.

“Not sure if you know, seeing as how you been involved in that real big stuff,” he started.

“Hey, I hope you don’t believe all that crap in The News,” I interjected.

“Eh,” he began, and I could see he did. “Not really. I know how it is.”

“Good,” I said, at least happy he’d lied.

I find my whole pattern of speech and mannerisms morph when I’m around working folks. I think everyone does that to an extent, but I was about ready to pound some booze and throw the bottles against the wall. Been-e was so salty.

“Anyway, it’s been rough on us while the Portal is down. Almost no jobs going on and the military coming. It’s tough finding work,” Been-e stated.

And it was only going to get harder, I figured. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me for help. I might be able to scrounge something, but I always disliked being put in that position.

“Hey, have you seen my daughters?” he asked urgently. He took out his tele to show me a group picture of three women of varying ages. “I finally got them all in one place to send me a vid.”

The girls were a lot younger than I’d guess a man of his age would have. Kids don’t do much for me except get annoying, but I’ve learned parents are less objective about their children than addicts are about their drugs, so I said they looked nice.

He put his tele away. He had a guilty expression already and I knew it was a matter of time before he either hit me up for credits or asked for work or both.

“So I started working for Zadeck, but it’s just one job, see?” He was looking down at the table now.

“Yup,” I said, coaxing along the conversation to its inevitable conclusion.