Level Up Bitch

by N M Tatum

  She clenched her teeth and tried to remain stoic. She tried to maintain the cool, uncaring exterior that was her norm. But she couldn’t. As soon as the car took that first dive, she squealed like a child. Like a normal child. She squealed on every dive, around every turn, and, when the ride was over, her heart pounded against the inside of her chest, and she yelled, “Again!”

  She would have ridden that rollercoaster all night if she could have, ridden it until she was sick. It was the first normal childhood feeling she could remember having.

  The next normal feeling she experienced was disappointment when she realized she had to get off the ride.

  As the car she was in approached the platform, Sam couldn’t help but notice that Reggie looked like he’d been kicked in the junk—angry and nauseated. The safety bar released, and Sam and Joel climbed out. Cody was pacing the platform, holding his chin in his hand, cursing under his breath.

  “What’s going on?” Sam asked.

  “I just got off the phone with the client,” Reggie said. “I reported the successful completion of the job and reminded him of the details of our agreement.” He flexed his hands like he was squeezing his fingers around the throat of an invisible person, and his knuckles turned white. “And he informed me that he will not be paying what he owes us.”

  “Say that again?” Joel said in disbelief.

  “Apparently, it’s been a slow year on Kaufman,” Reggie said.

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a slow decade for me,” Joel said. “But I still pay for my shit. You know, most of the time.”

  Cody interjected. “Is he paying us at all?”

  “Half,” Reggie said.

  Sam unsheathed her sword. “Then I will remove half of his body to cover the remainder of our payment.”

  Cody curled his lip. “Why would we want half a person? We can’t fuel the ship with half a person.” He tilted his head. “Actually, if we modify the engines to burn biomass, maybe—"

  Reggie threw up his hands as a way to swat the conversation out of the air. “Before we get way off topic here, let me finish. The client said he could pay us half of the agreed upon fee, and he will pay us the other half in trade.”

  The crew went silent for a moment as they considered this. Sam imagined a ship full of gummy worms. Cody imagined an upgraded computer system for Sonic—Kaufman catered to some powerful people, so it must have some solid cyber security systems. Joel imagined cruising around Sonic in his own bumper car. Or maybe dismantling Rolling Thunder and reassembling it inside the ship. It would be a hell of a way to get from his bed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

  “I was thinking we could pick up the parts we need to fix the engines, and make all the repairs to Sonic as trade,” Reggie said. “They’ve got to have access to that stuff somewhere on Kaufman.”

  Cody nodded, silently disappointed that they would not be upgrading their system. “That makes sense.”

  The team packed up their gear and headed for the exit, sadder than they would have thought to be leaving behind Rocket Roger’s Vintage Amusement Park.

  Sam took one last look over her shoulder as they left.

  Her first trip to an amusement park. First rollercoaster. First taste of candy. First time cracking open that vault she kept in her chest and letting someone else in… The Notches hadn’t let her down yet. She wondered when she would stop expecting them to.

  She turned back to follow the team, but something in the parking lot caught her attention as she passed—a familiar logo. There among the abandoned cars of past tourists, pulled up along the loading docks at the far side of the park entrance, was a truck with ‘LAYTON’ written on the side.

  Chapter Twelve

  The client was somewhere in the spa district, which was much less the team’s speed than the amusement park. Facials. Mud masks. Chemical peels. Rich people paying absurd amounts of money to do weird things to their bodies.

  The spa district was still bustling with people. The Notches’ beat up, blood-covered appearance didn’t play well with the flowing white robes and dangling jewelry that adorned the other pedestrians. They caught the kind of snooty glares that aristocrats cast at peasants. And they did suddenly feel like peasants.

  One woman in her late forties billowed like a cloud as the Notches walked past her. Her neck was covered in more wealth than they would ever see, and her face was smoother than any face should ever be. Clearly, she’d been injected with something, a paralytic meant to do away with wrinkles that also had the side effect of making a person look like a plastic toy.

  “What in the world are those?” she asked as she regarded the Notches, as if they weren’t people.

  Sam and Joel both reached for their weapons.

  Reggie shot them a look that suitably conveyed the order to not murder anyone. Though he understood the desire.

  The guys all came from blue collar families. None of them had grown up with money. They’d rarely wanted for anything, but they’d been looked down on plenty by those with big houses and fast cars. They’d grown up in the orbit of money—in neighborhoods that bordered the ones with gates and homeowners’ associations.

  Sam, however, had never had anything, never even came close. But she’d worked for those kinds of people. They were the only ones who could afford to put out contracts, unless she worked for a government or a corporation, and, really, they were all the same people.

  “Right this way,” a thin man with a long, blond ponytail said. Chad or Chet or something.

  He was the concierge at this spa, and had received instructions from their client to show the Notches to him once they arrived.

  He led them through a maze of massage tables and naked people lying face down. Joel was tempted to yank a few towels and run howling through the place, with a trail of angry, rich people chasing after him with their saggy asses hanging out… But he thought better of it. Maybe Reggie’s influence was finally starting to get the better of him after all these years.

  Instead, they followed the man silently. Reggie and Cody stared at their shoes.

  “And here we are,” Ponytail said, pointing to a small, round building made to resemble a grass hut on a tropical island. Well, a tropical island out of a cheesy novel, imagined by a person who’d never seen one. Ponytail brushed a curtain of beads aside and gestured for the Notches to enter.

  “Anyone else feel like we’re about to be murdered?” Joel asked. “Or at least drugged? Maybe in a couple hours, we’ll wake up in a field somewhere, and these rich folks will be trying to hunt us?” He looked at each of the Notches. “No? Just me? Okay, let’s go into the creepy hut, then.”

  They ducked into the small hut and found it suddenly hard to see. The interior was dim, lit only by a few torches set at regular intervals around the room. It stank of incense—a thick smell that clogged the nose and sat heavy on the tongue. But it left a better taste than the man who came into view as their eyes adjusted to the dark.

  The first thing they noticed was he was sitting on a throne. If you sit on a throne, you’d better be a king. Otherwise, you’re just a douche. He sported a very porn-star-slash-serial-killer mustache, thin and wiry, above his upper lip. He looked to be in his mid-forties, though he, like most people on Kaufman, had done much to obscure that. His hair was dyed the color he probably thought it was when he was in high school, though now, it just looked painfully out of place, like he was wearing a hair helmet. He was spray tanned from head to toe, which they could confirm because he was completely naked.

  “Greetings,” he said. “I’m Graham. You have had the pleasure of being in my employ.”

  It took all of the self-control Sam had ever possessed to not immediately lop Graham’s head off. Every second he lived in her presence was on borrowed time.

  He locked eyes with Sam. “And now I have the pleasure of being in your company.”

  Sam wanted to vomit and commit murder at the same time.

  Reggie was the first to speak. He didn’t wan
t to be, he just didn’t want Joel to be the first to speak. “Mr. Graham, we spoke with one of your people a little while ago, and…” His tongue seemed to stop working. “I’m sorry, should we come back, or…?”

  Graham looked confused, and then looked down at his naked body. “Ah, yes. I forget that you’re new to Kaufman. Nudity is quite common here. I would encourage you to embrace it.”

  “I really wouldn’t,” Joel said under his breath as he watched Sam’s fingers dance on the handle of her sword.

  “Then I will take a few moments to dress and will then meet you in my office. Perhaps a more formal setting would be more appropriate for this sort of meeting.”

  Graham rose from his douche throne. He rested his hands on the small of his back and pushed his hips forward for seemingly no other purpose than to be gross. He nodded, and Ponytail showed the Notches outside.

  “You took a job from that guy?” Cody said to Reggie as they followed Ponytail down a cobbled path that soon wound up a spiral staircase.

  “It’s not like I videochatted with him,” Reggie said. “It’s hard to tell if a person is a total creeper by the sound of his voice.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Sam said.

  At the top of the spiral staircase was a deck that offered one of the most amazing views the team had ever seen, on any planet. Kaufman stretched out for miles, the ski slopes and man-made lakes looking like an oil painting. Attached to the deck was a house version of Graham—obnoxious, dated, and, from what they could see through the windows, mostly empty inside.

  Ponytail led them to some chairs that sat in a semicircle around an outdoor bar. “Please, take a seat. Graham will be with you shortly.”

  He pointed to the bar. “And please feel free to fix yourself a beverage.”

  Joel scoped out the bar as soon as Ponytail left.

  “We’re still working,” Reggie said to him.

  “If I’m going to be in that man’s presence longer than two more seconds, I’m going to need a drink.” He studied a bottle full of clear liquor. “Cucumber vodka? Asshole.”

  “What’s our endgame here?” Cody asked the group. “If this guy is going to offer us trade, what are we hoping to get? I think we should be on the same page about that so we can negotiate.”

  Joel sipped from his freshly made cocktail. “Actually, this cucumber vodka isn’t that bad. Quite refreshing. I’d take some of this in trade.”

  “Parts to fix the ship, fuel and food,” Reggie said. “If we can’t fix the ship, we can’t work. We’ll be stuck here on Kaufman.”

  “With Graham,” Sam said through her teeth. “We need parts.”

  Ponytail returned halfway through Joel’s second drink. “Gentlemen, and lady, Graham.” He half-bowed and extended an arm like he was presenting a king to his court.

  Graham sauntered over. Even his saunter was grandiose and self-obsessed. “My friends, please, sit and enjoy yourselves.”

  Joel raised his glass. “Oh, I am. At least, I was.”

  Graham smiled, though it was easy to see through. A polite gesture that did little to mask his very genuine loathing of Joel’s boorish behavior. “Let’s settle our business, then, shall we? I hate to leave people unsatisfied.” He winked at Sam.

  Sam threw up in her mouth.

  “That’s a funny thing to say after telling us that you aren’t able to pay for fantastic services rendered.” Joel sipped his drink.

  Graham shook from the shoulders up with a passive aggressive chuckle. “Yes, so fantastic I can see the smoke all the way from here. Not only did you rid my amusement park of vermin, but you’ve added to the view for my guests here at the spa.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Sam said.

  Something aside from Graham’s general skeeviness hadn’t been sitting well with her. She’d developed a keen sense of people’s motivations, and something with this guy was off.

  “Not a lot of people on Kaufman venture outside of their respective industry,” Sam noted. “It’s not common for a spa owner to also own an amusement park.”

  Graham looked her up and down as he nodded, and his eyes filled with wanting. “You are as intelligent as you are beautiful.”

  Round two of mouth vomit.

  “You are correct,” he said. “It is uncommon indeed. But I felt the need to diversify my holdings. That’s just smart business. However, with the park shut down from that infestation, and showing no sign of bouncing back, I’m afraid that I’m quite limited on liquid assets at the moment.”

  Sam gestured to the spa below, and the sea of naked, rich people they’d passed through. “The spa seems to be doing well enough. Why risk investing in an amusement park with such a niche audience?”

  The smile slipped from Graham’s face somewhat; a barely noticeable twitch to most people, but Sam was practiced in reading people.

  “The spa has rebounded recently,” Graham allowed. “Which is why I’m able to pay you at all.”

  “Rebounded from what?” Sam pressed.

  Reggie grew uncomfortable with the forcefulness of their interaction, but Cody saw something beneath Sam’s brusque exterior. She sensed something, like a dog on a scent—an analogy that he would never share with her. He paced around behind Reggie and Sam, stood at the railing and made it appear as if he was taking in the view. But he looked down at his wristcom instead.

  The twitch on Graham’s face was noticeable to even Reggie now.

  “Is it relevant that you delve into my financial history?” Graham asked tensely.

  Sam didn’t back down from his attempt at avoidance. “Considering that we’re meeting because you claim you can’t afford to pay us, I’d say yes. Unless, of course, you’d like us to file a complaint with the Galactic Business Bureau? They’d probably launch an investigation into why you’re stiffing your contractors. I’m sure that press wouldn’t play well with the fancy elites you serve here. Especially while you’re still rebounding.”

  Graham never broke eye contact with Sam, even as he waved for Ponytail to fetch him a drink. “Smart, beautiful and feisty. You’re the complete package, aren’t you? Very well. Jasob opened a flagship store on their new space station. They sold high-end beauty products that drew away customers.” He sipped from his drink, and his smile returned. “But that is not a problem anymore. Business has returned. The spa is thriving. So I can cut my losses with the amusement park and move on.”

  Cody minimized the window on his wristcom and looked out at the view. His eyes darted across the horizon as he made some mental calculations. Coming to a conclusion, he rejoined the others.

  “So, you mentioned trade?” he interjected.

  Sam seemed agitated to have her line of questioning shut down, but Reggie jumped on the chance to move forward.

  “That’s right,” Reggie said. “Half the agreed upon payment, and we take the rest in trade.”

  “Indeed,” Graham said. He sat in a wicker chair at the edge of the deck, so he could enjoy the view. “My apologies for the money flow issues. But I assure you, you will receive what you’ve earned through other means.”

  Reggie sat in a chair near Graham. “Good, because we’ve got a list of things we need.” He handed the man the list, which contained all of the parts they needed to fix the ship, plus a few extras Joel had tacked on just for fun as well as fuel and food.

  Graham’s brow grew increasingly furrowed as he read. “I’m afraid much of this is well outside my ability to provide. I run a spa, not a mechanic’s shop.”

  Sam stepped to Reggie’s side, casting her shadow over Graham. “That’s unfortunate.”

  Graham sank under the weight of her stare. “Yes, well, I may be able to offer a creative workaround.”

  “I thought trade was already the creative workaround,” Joel said, his words beginning to slur.

  Graham ignored him. “These parts, I do not have them. But I know of a place where you may be able to find something adjacent, something that may be able to meet yo
ur needs.” He walked to the railing and pointed to a pillar of smoke rising from the horizon.

  Joel wanted to throw his drink in Graham’s face until he realized what the spray tanned man was saying. Then he wanted to hug him, which he did not do, because Graham was gross.

  “You’re saying we can strip parts from Rocket Roger’s?” he clarified.

  “Yes,” Graham said. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be demolishing it eventually, anyway. Maybe I’ll turn the lot into a lake. Oh, or a roller derby rink. There’s been some interest, and it would be the first one on Kaufman.”

  Joel was more excited than when they’d first walked into Rocket Roger’s and he realized he would have the opportunity to romp around an abandoned amusement park. But this—the only thing he could want more than free reign over an amusement park was to take an amusement park apart and put it back together.

  “It’s time to cross another item off my bucket list,” Joel said.

  “Before you get on with all of that,” Graham said, “I would like to invite you to enjoy the services of my spa. It’s only right that you rest and relax after a hard day’s work. We have much to offer. Massages. Salt baths. Hot tubs. Natural springs. Cryotherapy.” He looked at Sam. “Facials. They do wonders for the pores. Remove that mask, get the skin beneath refreshed. And maybe an oil treatment? That hair of yours is gorgeous, but even natural beauty needs tending.”

  Faced with all of his advances, Sam felt nothing but nauseated. But this, commenting on her beauty and complimenting her, while also suggesting she had flaws, made her self-conscious. And the fact that this smear of a person could make her feel such a way only served to make her angry.

  Joel downed the rest of his drink. “Massages, you say? Point the way, Ponytail. I need a rub down.” The concierge groaned. “Wait, on second thought,” Joel said. “There is one more member of our party who would like to take advantage of your services. His name is General Pepper. He’s about yay high, furry all over, of an unknown species—”