“I seemed to have left my wallet back at the office, Lexi. Be a dear and cover for me again?”
“Sure thing, boss,” said the cyberpunk bartender back, use to such things. He’ll make it up to her in the end, she thinks. Surely he’ll make it up to her. “Soo. Whatta ya think of the act down there?”
If I wanted a Lt. Uhura I’d go back to Star Wars Academy and order me up a Princess Leia, he thought. “Okay,” he said aloud.
“Star Trek Theme,” said Lexi. “I recognized it from my time on Venus. Popular there. Star Wars is of course hated on that planet. Ever since Luke Skyhobbler declared Martian Law.”
“I recall.” Thus the reason Edward, some people’s Eddie, didn’t bring up Wars. He received his Kick-Ass grasshopper, extra shot of crème de menthe. Now he could do some serious pondering about his business and its future.
“You going to tell her or should I (again)?” asked Lexi, knowing the woman was going to get the axe. Boss only visits once a week, and almost always there’s a firing as a result.
He drank a deep drink, set the 1/2 empty glass back down on the counter. “You, I suppose. Ben here yet?”
“Benny?” said Lexi, knowing Ben since he was a little boy. Couldn’t ever get the hang of the grown up name. “He’s around.”
Edward reached into the other pocket to retrieve a cigarette. “Do you know where?” He lit, he puffs, kind of in her face, just to make sure she knows he’s a tiny bit irritated at the lack of details.
“Sure, sure,” she responded, trying not to cough even a little. No one smokes in here but the Boss anymore. Rules of the Boss, actually. Only he is allowed to break them. Typical.
(to be continued)