Page 14 of Blow Me Down
Do you have a fork?”
Renata looked at me as if I had three heads. “Nay, lass. We use our eatin‘ knives here. Ah, ye’ve not got one? Lucky then I’ve a spare.” She hoisted up her skirt and pulled a short-bladed knife from the garter holding up a ratty pair of stockings, shoving it into my hand.
“No, that’s okay, I don’t need to take your spare… er… leg knife…” I held the knife by the very tips of two fingers, wondering whether she really expected me to eat with a utensil that had been strapped to her leg. “I’ll just use my fingers, if you don’t mind my ill manners. Now, about the skills I have to offer—I’m a bit fuzzy about just what sort of business it is you’re running here…”
The door leading to the hall burst open as my words faded on my lips. A redheaded woman clad in an almost translucent blouse and similar lace-bedecked petticoat raced into the room, giggling as she cast provocative glances over her shoulder. On her heels was a middle-aged man with a short salt-and-pepper beard, wearing a pair of boots… and nothing else.
“Lay up, ye blighted minx! I’m not as fast on me pins as ye are!”
The woman raced around the table and headed back out the door, scattering giggles and come-hither looks behind her. The naked man, a pirate if the earrings and weathered look were anything to go by, followed without giving Renata or me a second glance.
“Oh,” I said, as me door slammed behind the couple. “That sort of business.
You’re a… er… this is a… uh…”
“Sportin‘ house, aye,” Renata said, taking a healthy swig from her mug of ale.
“That be Red Beth, another of me girls. Ye not be one of them lasses with yer nose stuck high up in the air who look down on us, be ye?”
“Me? Oh, absolutely not. My nose is right here, perfectly level. I’m known for being very open-minded. Ask anyone. I’m all for… er… sportin‘. Big fan of it.”
“Are ye, now,” she asked, her eyebrows doing a surprised little waggle. “Ye don’t have the look about ye.”
“Oh, I’m not a… that is, I don’t do it for money.”
“Ah? That’s mighty charitable of ye, dearie, but ye’re due somethin‘ for yer troubles.”
“No, no, you’re misunderstanding. I don’t have sex professionally. It’s more a hobby… oh, that doesn’t sound right. I meant that I’m an amateur at it… er…
that is, I know what I’m doing and what goes where and the approximate time and actions needed to achieve… oh, hell, I’m just making this worse, aren’t I?”
Renata laughed as I stuffed a piece of undercooked mutton into my mouth more to shut myself up than to satisfy the gnawing hunger. “That ye are, dearie; that ye are. If’n ye’ve had enough to eat, p’raps now would be a good time to have that talk I’ve been hintin‘ at.”
“Absolutely,” I said, pushing the now-empty plate away. With no other beverage offered, I took a few cautious sips of ale to wash down the last of the meat, figuring that unless the game’s creators spent way too much time ensuring that the game duplicated every last aspect of real life, I should be safe from the threat of an alcohol-induced migraine. “As to that, I believe I can be of some use to you. After all, a business of this sort is no different from any other that provides a service. I will simply use the standard small business model and adapt it for your specific needs. If you could bring out your financial records, receipts, bank statements, and a list of expenses that I can itemize, I’ll get started and work you up a business plan that will allow you to run with a tightly controlled budget, and yet save sufficient funds for your retirement.”
Renata looked at me like three naked customers were dancing on my head.
“Financial records? I’ve this house, dearie.”
“No receipts? No tax statements from years past?”
She shook her head, still giving me a wary look.
“Okay. We start from scratch. That’s doable, too. Do you have paper and a pencil?” I asked, looking around the room. “I could work up a model for you now, just something basic so you know where you stand, financially.”
“I’ve no parchment, no,” Renata answered, a frown pulling her brows together as she watched me over the rim of her tankard. “ ‘Tis dear, parchment.”
“Dear? Oh, expensive. Gotcha. Hmm.” I tapped my fingers on the table and considered my situation. Clearly there was going to be more to achieving the officer level of the game than just collecting wooden limbs. No doubt the game’s creator felt some sort of a teamwork challenge was necessary. “What I really need is a spreadsheet. I’d be able to adapt one for you with just a couple of keystrokes, but I don’t suppose there’s any way to get one in the game environment?”
Renata just stared at me.
“Right; I thought not.” I tapped my lower lip, thinking hard. “Tell you what—
I’ll quit the game and load up a spreadsheet, give it a quick modification and plug in some basic numbers, then print out the data and pop back into the game so I can read it to you. Does that work for you?”
She was shaking her head even before I finished speaking.
“Don’t like spreadsheets?” I asked.
