Catching Breaks

Posted on Sun 14th Mar, 2021 @ 4:01pm by Yuliette Marayan Dr.

1,111 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Business Not At All As Usual
Location: Brown Sector: Zodiac - Findley's repair shop

The upper floor of the hotel must have housed the most favored guests. As Yuliette opted for the stairwell in order to get the blood pumping again after binge watching all morning, she noticed that the subsequent floors were a little more… budget friendly in the decor and the spacing of rooms, though well enough kept. When she came to the main floor again, she passed the check in desk fronting the casino. It was only the afternoon and the place was at a lull, waiting for the evening’s movers and shakers to arrive. So there was nothing between her and a familiar face when they chanced on one another in the lobby.

It was Javir Bonaventura. And this time when he and Yuliette caught sight of one another, it was Bo that seemed nervous. His shifty eyes searched side to side for an out, avoiding eye contact. “Would you pardon me,” he said to the tall fellow he had been in the middle of some story or deal with. And then he just picked up and left the lobby without so much as an explanation to his companion. Yuliette smiled bemusedly as she saw the man left scratching his chin, unsure of what had just spooked Bo. The tall stranger gave a polite nod at the miss in the red hoodie and sunglasses as she crossed the lobby.

So it worked, Yuliette surmised. Whatever it was that Radak had told Bo was very effective.

As she cut a path towards Ian Findley’s repair shop, she tried to imagine what exactly Radak might have said. So far as she could discern from his quiet manner, Radak seemed to Yuliette to be hardly as tough sounding as he looked. A gentle giant… She enjoyed the pleasantly distracting thoughts of Radak as she found Findley’s shop again.

This time she wasn’t window shopping or thrifting. She went right to the counter where the teenaged Orion clerk was perched on a stool.

“Hello, Oritz.” She said brightly, taking off her shades.

“Hey Miss Neone. You look well today.”

“Do I?” She brushed her hand through her hair and chuckled. “I guess that’s what a good night’s rest can do.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, I was hoping to scrounge up a few hot plates— you know, little cooking ranges— and a label printer.”

“I know we have ranges. I’ll show you the stock.” He came around the counter and walked her to a shelf in the back with various hot plates tagged with their specs for power and output. He started to pull one of the cheapest off the end, “This one is just 15 credits, and Ian says to waive you any seed money fees.”

“I have credits or latinum if you prefer.” She eyed the specs and thought about what she would need for even, prolonged use. She couldn’t burn the oils and lose all her money and efforts, after all. It would have to be a unit that wouldn’t undermine the whole process. She pulled out two that said 129 credits on each of their tags and Oritz looked at her quizzically. “If you have a third of this type, I’ll take that as well. Oh, and the label printer.”

“Right, yeah.” Oritz left the lady in the aisle to go to the back where Ian had the circuit board of a switching control panel he was soldering. He was perched on a tall stool and using a light and a magnifying lens on a stand for detail work on the circuits. “Hey Boss.”

“What,” grunted Ian, less than delighted to be spoken to while he was straining his eyes and trying to maintain a steady hand.

“Miss Neone is here. Wants to know, do we got a label printer whats-it?”

“For printing labels?”

“That’s my guess.” Oritz shrugged.

“Check on the shelf behind the laser cutter.” Ian pointed in the direction with the hot dolder iron. “I might have got something there. What’s Miss want with a label printer?”

“Printing labels, maybe” Oritz repeated as he laid hands on a promising looking device, long-ago wrapped in plastic and covered in layers of workshop dust.

“Test it out before you sell it to her. Mark it down to fifty.”

“She’s got money today, Ian. Credits and GPL, not seeds.”

“Fifty’s fine.” He repeated.

Oritz found Yuliette at the register, waiting for him. She had three hotplates and he set down the printer beside them, unwrapping it and setting the 150 credit price tag out on the counter. He ran a standard sized label through the printer with a test pattern and it made some squeaking and buzzing and chattering as it produced the test patterns. Oritz held the results to the light.

“Looks like it’s ready to go. It’s inkless, so you just have to get the emulsion sheets. They carry them at the general supply in town.”

Yuliette was counting out the credits for all her goods, and when Oritz saw the money he bit his lip. She presumed the cost for the printer was what she had seen on the price tag. Why wouldn’t she? Oritz hadn’t mentioned the mark down. She didn’t try and haggle, so it was obviously not a hardship. Oritz collected her credits and put them in the till, save for the over charged hundred which surreptitiously found its way into Oritz’s work apron. Ian’s charity might just as well go to him as to Miss, he figured. “Let me get those wrapped up for you,” Oritz offered, packaging her purchases and getting her a couple strong totes to carry them with.

“Thank you.” Yuliette said enthusiastically. “I have a lot more shopping to do. I’ll have to drop these off. No sense in carrying them all day!”

“Good luck, and thanks for the business, Miss!” Oritz waved to her with one hand while subconsciously his other went back into his pocket.

Pulling her hood back up, Yuliette reflected— It felt good to be able to spend money without counting out her change and worrying about going broke over a sandwich or a bar of soap. All she had to do was pretend it was her own money and not borrowed funds owed to a man in black. Since when were any funds ever her own in the first place? Just the trinkets from the desert tribes and now the hand modelling cash. Nothing else had ever really been her earnings, truly, anyway. That was about to change.

Yuliette put her shades back on.

 

RSS Feed

Comments (1)