Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(76)

“I do okay,” I said.

“You have to understand my caution,” he said dramatically, his cape flying as he turned. “My heart has been stolen and I cannot allow any more harm to befall me.”

I looked at his chest, which was unmarked.

“What?”

“Don’t you see? She could be with anyone. I gave her my all. Poured my essence into her. My soul. And did she care?”

He spun, pointing at me.

“No?” I answered, unsure.

“No!” He fell to the ground in a swoon of anguish and I realized it was lucky he had such thick carpeting.

I looked at the assistant, who didn’t return my gaze but was staring at her employer with an impenetrable expression.

As he had his head down on the carpet and the assistant was…elsewhere, I looked at my tele. Should I leave? Applaud?

His hand began clawing and I saw he was motioning me over. I gingerly approached. I heard some whispering and had to crouch down, damn my knees, to hear him.

“Her name, my blossom’s name, is Tejj-jo,” he gasped. “You must find if I am forsaken.” He looked up at me imploringly.

Again, I looked back at the assistant, who was no help.

“So if I had to rephrase that, I would say…” And I looked at him to complete it.

He grasped my arm with his painted fingers. His actual fingers were painted. I think they had scenes on them, like animals and landscapes. My fingers felt so boring by comparison.

“Am I to end today what she hath already sundered? My being. My very makeup.”

“Makeup?” I just wasn’t getting it. I rose to my feet. “Look, man, I have no clue what you’re asking me.”

“Is his life partner cheating on him,” the assistant said with annoyance.

The celebrity flashed her the briefest of stern looks before going soft again.

“That’s it? You called me here for that?” I was incensed. Girlfriend problems? You got to be kidding me. I would have been much more upset if this wasn’t such a freak festival. No one will ever believe this story.

The celebrity sprang to his feet despite his boots.

“You must save me. I teeter on the brink of oblivion. It is but a trifle for you, but a lifetime for me.”

“There’s a million guys here who can do that. Well, not a million, but a lot.”

“But you’re the best,” he pleaded.

“I’m not the best at this,” I said. “I’m the best at…fighting…and like, robots…and killing people.” I paused. Wow, my resume sucked.

“There may be a need for murder,” he said with loathing.

“Not like that,” I said, my hand on my forehead. “Just ask her.”

“Hah, and the witch shall speak the truth? Her lips would surely bleed from disuse at the effort.”

“I’m sorry, Two Clem, this just isn’t something I do. I wish you—”

“You will be paid handsomely if you assent.”

“I have the invoice here,” a man spoke from behind me. If I was one to be startled, I would have been startled. I turned and saw Leeny’s bookkeeper.

“Hey,” I said, wondering where he’d come from. This carpet, an assassin’s paradise.

He held out a piece of paper, which I took as there was nothing else to do.

100,000 credits.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

I could see he was about to break into another speech so I turned back to the bookkeeper.

“He’s kidding, right?”

“That is the sum allocated.”

“This gal is on Belvaille? This station?”

“Were that she weren’t,” the celebrity said.

“She’s on the station?” I asked the bookkeeper.

“I have no information on the specifics,” he responded bookkeeperly.

“She’s on the station?” I asked the assistant, who didn’t answer or look at me. “She’s on the station? This station?” I asked Two Clem again.

“Yes. Yes. A thousand yeses.”

Then I got an even better idea.

“Hey,” I asked the bookkeeper. “Could you give me a receipt after this job?”

“Yes, of course,” he said.

“But could you give me a receipt for a lot more? Like, to cover some of my other work? He wouldn’t have to pay for it, just give receipts.”

Of the many things I had to worry about, I was still bothered by what this bookkeeper had originally said. If I took the job, which was a real job—although boring—it would prove I had honest income.

The bookkeeper looked surprised under his mask of facial hair. “That can be arranged,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “As long as the quoted price remains the same.”