Al characters and thematic elements belong to Sunrise, Inc. and Bandai
Entertainment.
A Game of Cards
Chapter 4
The ISSP secretary cleared her throat and adjusted her pink-rimmed glasses. "So. that's five billion woolongs for Mr. Flowers. three million for Gy Corona, two and a half million for Jorge Bandito, one million for Kyle Smuck, eight million two thousand for Pit Gorgonzola."
Spike and Faye exchanged glances. "Um, could you get to the point? There were, like, forty people we brought in."
"Oh, yes. Of course. Let's see. It all comes to a grand total of, um." The silence as she tabulated their future richness was excruciating. "fifteen and a half billion, two hundred woolongs and, um. forty cents." The secretary glanced up. Both Spike and Faye were standing stock still. Spike was nodding like and autistic child following a pendulum. Then Faye gave out a great big high pitched shriek, which seemed to snap him out of it. They clasped each other like teenage cheerleaders, laughing and yelling and dancing in a circle. Then they realized they were hugging and quickly withdrew from each other.
"I wonder how Jet's gonna take this?" Spike mused.
* * *
"I didn't even know you kids were gone," Jet said, flipping over some mushrooms in his wok. "I thought you were going to miss supper."
"Jet, did you even hear us?" Faye asked. "We just got a bounty. Throw those mushrooms out and let's go out to dinner."
"Dinner! Winner! Spinner!" Ed shouted and started to pirouette until she became little more than a blur.
"You know, when you spend money as fast as you do," Jet started to lecture, "We end up hungry. We'll think about food after we take care of the utility bills."
"Jet, we got fifteen and a half billion two hundred woolongs and forty cents."
The mushrooms ceased their rhythmic flipping. "Can you say that again? I feel like I just had an auditory hallucination."
Spike spoke up. "Fifteen and a half billion two hundred woolongs and forty cents." Ed stopped spinning and stared at him. "But five billion of it is mine. Me and Faye had a bet and I won."
Faye crossed her arms. "Well? Are we going to go out to eat?"
With the same precision as choreographed swimmers, Jet and Ed tilted slowly over until they hit the floor in a dead faint. Spike lit a cigarette. "Well, Jet I understand, but Ed?"
"She's been wanting a scike board," Faye explained.
"What the hell is a scike board?"
"It's a combination of a scooter, a bike, and a snowboard. You push with one foot, pedal with the other. Works on any surface, really. Come on, Spike, get with the times! All the kids have one."
"You're the one who's three hundred years old."
"Which goes to show you how outdated you are." She took out her own pack of cigarettes and lit one.
Spike shrugged. "So should we go to Chez Food?"
"You read my mind."
* * *
Chez Food's menu was one hundred and fifteen pages long, not including the alcohol list, which was twenty pages, not including the cocktail list, which was fifty pages long. It specialized in all the old earth dishes, exotic planetary dishes, and house mixes. It was hands down the best restaurant in the galaxy and boasted the prices you would expect from the best restaurant in the galaxy. As soon as the Bebop crew entered, galactic yuppie heads swiveled over in disapproval. Ein was made to wait outside, with Jet promising to bring leftovers.
The waitress seated them in the darkest corner she could find, which happened to be the furthest spot from the exit in case of a dine and ditch. After much disapproving looks the manager came over and had the balls to ask for a deposit. Spike shrugged and forked over his card. Then the waitress came with Venetian water, waited for them to decide upon their orders, and returned to take their orders, which she would have to do five times in the case of most of the Bebop crew, who were poring over the menus like cram school students over a cheat sheet. Not Spike, though. Five years ago, he had heard of a Titanian fish called a Gohai, which was supposed to taste sort of like lobster, if lobster were to come from Heaven. At Chez Food they marinated it in coriander, basil, and a Martian "herb", really a tasty paste made from a certain kind of dust. It was the most expensive item on the menu, and he had decided on it as soon as Faye handed over the five billion woolongs. Faye, after a half an hour of debating, decided on a rabbit and mango dish that was served over a salad of Venetian flowers. Ed went for a moonplant soup, most of which ended up on the front of her shirt, and a fish salad. Jet ordered an everything quesedilla, which offered a selection of catfish, steak, Uranian bird, and seven types of beans to stuff in it along with five types of salsa and the creamiest sour cream to grace Mars. Once the food came, the crew enjoyed a silence like they never had, eating happily for the first time since they had all come together. As soon as Ed was done she ran off with her card to get her scike board. Jet ordered a horse dish for Ein and leaned back with a cigar in his mouth while Spike and Faye went through the drink menu. Spike started to go through the different vodkas and Faye started to go through the cocktails. Once the horse dish arrived Jet left the table, saying something about going off to have the best post-meal bath and sleep of his short life.
Faye leaned back and drained her Rainblaze Glory. By now she's forgotten all the contents, but they sure did taste nice. "I don't know what he's thinking," she murmured. "I'm not going to lose one second living it up."
"You should cool it before gambling all your money away."
"I don't gamble my money away," she said lazily. "I invest with high interest."
"How many drinks have you had?"
"Half as many as I plan to order," she replied, raising her hand to get the waitress's attention. "You know, there's a snooker bar in the back. I bet you five billion woolongs I could beat you."
Spike laughed heartily, not half as drunk as she seemed to be. " You're on," he promised.
"Like a light," she agreed.
* * *
He should have known the shrew was faking. She kept the drunk act up right up until he made his first shot, breaking the red triangle without getting a ball in. Then her eyes lit up and steeled themselves, mapping out the geometry of the table. It occurred to Spike that he had never played pool with the woman, let alone snooker. It occurred to him that good shots were usually good at either game, and that she was a good shot, and maybe better than him. Finally, it occurred to him that he was drunk. Perhaps it was this initial panic that ruined the game. Following shots through into the pocket was a heavily psychic practice no matter how good you were. Nerves always resulted in bouncing off the ends of pockets and near misses. He had a string of these, and wasn't close to winning. When Faye bent down to take her last, triumphant shot, he had to go to the bar for another vodka. He couldn't bear to look. He winced as he heard the solid thump and roll of the ball going in. He turned to her, leaning against the snooker table with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. He flipped her off and drained his vodka.
A lanky arm dropped onto his shoulder. "Oh, don't get bent out of shape, Fuzzy. They have massage parlors her. My treat."
"I don't need you charity," he mumbled. Faye shrugged. "Fine with me." She started to walk away.
"Wait!" he called after her. She turned to him and he ran his hand through his hair and gritted his teeth in a forced grin. "I guess I'll take charity, since I would have won that game if I weren't drunk."
She folded her arms and started to tap her foot.
"Oh, come on, Faye! You have five billion woolongs. At least let me have my fantasies of superiority."
"Well, if you put it that way."
* * *
Faye smiled dizzily as she emerged from her massage session. "I don't think I can move. But in a good way."
Spike was sprawled out on one of the couches, having emerged moments earlier. Both of them were wearing terry cloth robes. "I don't think I can smoke. But in a good way."
"Is the Bebop still docked?" she asked.
Spike groaned. "I don't want to walk all the way across town."
"Me neither."
"We have rooms for rent here," the receptionist piped up helpfully.
Spike and Faye exchanged looks and shrugged. "Do they have bars in them?"
"Of course," the receptionist replied.
"Why not?" Spike asked.
* * *
"Ha ha!" Faye shrieked. She was actually drunk now. No calculated faking. "You're asshole again!" But she still managed to cheat like a little hellion when she was drunk. More than usual, if it was possible.
"I don't think we can really play asshole with two people," Spike said for the third time.
"It's a classic drinking game," Faye replied for the third time. The floor in the hotel room was so thick and soft they were sprawled across it in their terrycloth robes. A fire was crackling next to them. Faye rolled over to take another marshmallow from the pile they had ordered from room service. She stuck it on the edge of an elongated corkscrew and plunged it into the fire.
"That's not how you do it!" Spike protested.
"Do you have to have input on everything?" Faye asked.
"Do you have to do everything wrong?" he asked, and wrested the corkscrew from her grip.
"You sound like my mom," she replied and jerked the corkscrew back from him. The marshmallow slid down the spokes and threatened to drop. Spike stuck his hand out to catch it at the last minute and it exploded into his hand. He looked at the mess in disgust and wiped it off on Faye's terrycloth robe. "Hey!" she yelled and stood in indignation. Spike leaned back and peered up at her.
"Your underwear is showing."
Faye picked up the tray of marshmallows and dumped it on him. It didn't have much impact, since they just bounced off him. He laughed at this, so she grabbed a handful and tried to smash them into his face. He managed to eat most of them and shove a few into her robe. Faye started giggling.
"What?" Spike asked.
Faye took the tray the marshmallows had been on and turned it to reveal his reflection. She had managed to squish some marshmallow into his hair.
"So? You have them in your robe. And it's lumpy." Which made her laugh more. She knelt down and knocked into the champagne bottle, tipping it over onto Spike. "Christ on a bun!" Spike screamed and jumped up, rubbing at his robe with his bare hands. Faye laughed harder. He disengaged from his robe and slung it over the radiator to dry it. When he turned back, Faye was rolling on the floor, giggling, marshmallows occasionally falling from her robe. "What now?"
Faye was laughing so hard she couldn't talk, so she pointed at his boxers, which were covered in butterflies.
"Oh, shut up," he said and stalked into the bathroom. A minute later Faye heard the water turn on. Five minutes later she heard a garbled yell.
Her fit of giggles over, she asked, "What is it?"
"No towels!" He shouted from behind the door.
Faye sighed. She might be sober enough to play cards but she wasn't sure she could operate a phone. She picked it up and pressed different combinations of buttons until she reached the front desk. She told them to bring towels to their room. Since she was standing, she decided to open her robe and empty it of the marshmallows. The door to the bathroom opened, Spike muttering about being to drunk to care, his boxers wet and plastered to him. "Wait!" Faye shrieked, which made him look up. She closed her robe, but he was still looking at her, like she'd betrayed him or something.
"You weren't wearing a bra this time," Spike said.
Faye flopped down on the bed, suddenly wanting a separate room. One more comment from him and she'd go order one, too. Spike was still standing in the same position. "Oh, go on," she said.
She waited for the torture, reached to the table for her cigarettes. She wished he'd put his robe on.
"You're a damn beautiful woman," Spike said.
A Game of Cards
Chapter 4
The ISSP secretary cleared her throat and adjusted her pink-rimmed glasses. "So. that's five billion woolongs for Mr. Flowers. three million for Gy Corona, two and a half million for Jorge Bandito, one million for Kyle Smuck, eight million two thousand for Pit Gorgonzola."
Spike and Faye exchanged glances. "Um, could you get to the point? There were, like, forty people we brought in."
"Oh, yes. Of course. Let's see. It all comes to a grand total of, um." The silence as she tabulated their future richness was excruciating. "fifteen and a half billion, two hundred woolongs and, um. forty cents." The secretary glanced up. Both Spike and Faye were standing stock still. Spike was nodding like and autistic child following a pendulum. Then Faye gave out a great big high pitched shriek, which seemed to snap him out of it. They clasped each other like teenage cheerleaders, laughing and yelling and dancing in a circle. Then they realized they were hugging and quickly withdrew from each other.
"I wonder how Jet's gonna take this?" Spike mused.
* * *
"I didn't even know you kids were gone," Jet said, flipping over some mushrooms in his wok. "I thought you were going to miss supper."
"Jet, did you even hear us?" Faye asked. "We just got a bounty. Throw those mushrooms out and let's go out to dinner."
"Dinner! Winner! Spinner!" Ed shouted and started to pirouette until she became little more than a blur.
"You know, when you spend money as fast as you do," Jet started to lecture, "We end up hungry. We'll think about food after we take care of the utility bills."
"Jet, we got fifteen and a half billion two hundred woolongs and forty cents."
The mushrooms ceased their rhythmic flipping. "Can you say that again? I feel like I just had an auditory hallucination."
Spike spoke up. "Fifteen and a half billion two hundred woolongs and forty cents." Ed stopped spinning and stared at him. "But five billion of it is mine. Me and Faye had a bet and I won."
Faye crossed her arms. "Well? Are we going to go out to eat?"
With the same precision as choreographed swimmers, Jet and Ed tilted slowly over until they hit the floor in a dead faint. Spike lit a cigarette. "Well, Jet I understand, but Ed?"
"She's been wanting a scike board," Faye explained.
"What the hell is a scike board?"
"It's a combination of a scooter, a bike, and a snowboard. You push with one foot, pedal with the other. Works on any surface, really. Come on, Spike, get with the times! All the kids have one."
"You're the one who's three hundred years old."
"Which goes to show you how outdated you are." She took out her own pack of cigarettes and lit one.
Spike shrugged. "So should we go to Chez Food?"
"You read my mind."
* * *
Chez Food's menu was one hundred and fifteen pages long, not including the alcohol list, which was twenty pages, not including the cocktail list, which was fifty pages long. It specialized in all the old earth dishes, exotic planetary dishes, and house mixes. It was hands down the best restaurant in the galaxy and boasted the prices you would expect from the best restaurant in the galaxy. As soon as the Bebop crew entered, galactic yuppie heads swiveled over in disapproval. Ein was made to wait outside, with Jet promising to bring leftovers.
The waitress seated them in the darkest corner she could find, which happened to be the furthest spot from the exit in case of a dine and ditch. After much disapproving looks the manager came over and had the balls to ask for a deposit. Spike shrugged and forked over his card. Then the waitress came with Venetian water, waited for them to decide upon their orders, and returned to take their orders, which she would have to do five times in the case of most of the Bebop crew, who were poring over the menus like cram school students over a cheat sheet. Not Spike, though. Five years ago, he had heard of a Titanian fish called a Gohai, which was supposed to taste sort of like lobster, if lobster were to come from Heaven. At Chez Food they marinated it in coriander, basil, and a Martian "herb", really a tasty paste made from a certain kind of dust. It was the most expensive item on the menu, and he had decided on it as soon as Faye handed over the five billion woolongs. Faye, after a half an hour of debating, decided on a rabbit and mango dish that was served over a salad of Venetian flowers. Ed went for a moonplant soup, most of which ended up on the front of her shirt, and a fish salad. Jet ordered an everything quesedilla, which offered a selection of catfish, steak, Uranian bird, and seven types of beans to stuff in it along with five types of salsa and the creamiest sour cream to grace Mars. Once the food came, the crew enjoyed a silence like they never had, eating happily for the first time since they had all come together. As soon as Ed was done she ran off with her card to get her scike board. Jet ordered a horse dish for Ein and leaned back with a cigar in his mouth while Spike and Faye went through the drink menu. Spike started to go through the different vodkas and Faye started to go through the cocktails. Once the horse dish arrived Jet left the table, saying something about going off to have the best post-meal bath and sleep of his short life.
Faye leaned back and drained her Rainblaze Glory. By now she's forgotten all the contents, but they sure did taste nice. "I don't know what he's thinking," she murmured. "I'm not going to lose one second living it up."
"You should cool it before gambling all your money away."
"I don't gamble my money away," she said lazily. "I invest with high interest."
"How many drinks have you had?"
"Half as many as I plan to order," she replied, raising her hand to get the waitress's attention. "You know, there's a snooker bar in the back. I bet you five billion woolongs I could beat you."
Spike laughed heartily, not half as drunk as she seemed to be. " You're on," he promised.
"Like a light," she agreed.
* * *
He should have known the shrew was faking. She kept the drunk act up right up until he made his first shot, breaking the red triangle without getting a ball in. Then her eyes lit up and steeled themselves, mapping out the geometry of the table. It occurred to Spike that he had never played pool with the woman, let alone snooker. It occurred to him that good shots were usually good at either game, and that she was a good shot, and maybe better than him. Finally, it occurred to him that he was drunk. Perhaps it was this initial panic that ruined the game. Following shots through into the pocket was a heavily psychic practice no matter how good you were. Nerves always resulted in bouncing off the ends of pockets and near misses. He had a string of these, and wasn't close to winning. When Faye bent down to take her last, triumphant shot, he had to go to the bar for another vodka. He couldn't bear to look. He winced as he heard the solid thump and roll of the ball going in. He turned to her, leaning against the snooker table with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. He flipped her off and drained his vodka.
A lanky arm dropped onto his shoulder. "Oh, don't get bent out of shape, Fuzzy. They have massage parlors her. My treat."
"I don't need you charity," he mumbled. Faye shrugged. "Fine with me." She started to walk away.
"Wait!" he called after her. She turned to him and he ran his hand through his hair and gritted his teeth in a forced grin. "I guess I'll take charity, since I would have won that game if I weren't drunk."
She folded her arms and started to tap her foot.
"Oh, come on, Faye! You have five billion woolongs. At least let me have my fantasies of superiority."
"Well, if you put it that way."
* * *
Faye smiled dizzily as she emerged from her massage session. "I don't think I can move. But in a good way."
Spike was sprawled out on one of the couches, having emerged moments earlier. Both of them were wearing terry cloth robes. "I don't think I can smoke. But in a good way."
"Is the Bebop still docked?" she asked.
Spike groaned. "I don't want to walk all the way across town."
"Me neither."
"We have rooms for rent here," the receptionist piped up helpfully.
Spike and Faye exchanged looks and shrugged. "Do they have bars in them?"
"Of course," the receptionist replied.
"Why not?" Spike asked.
* * *
"Ha ha!" Faye shrieked. She was actually drunk now. No calculated faking. "You're asshole again!" But she still managed to cheat like a little hellion when she was drunk. More than usual, if it was possible.
"I don't think we can really play asshole with two people," Spike said for the third time.
"It's a classic drinking game," Faye replied for the third time. The floor in the hotel room was so thick and soft they were sprawled across it in their terrycloth robes. A fire was crackling next to them. Faye rolled over to take another marshmallow from the pile they had ordered from room service. She stuck it on the edge of an elongated corkscrew and plunged it into the fire.
"That's not how you do it!" Spike protested.
"Do you have to have input on everything?" Faye asked.
"Do you have to do everything wrong?" he asked, and wrested the corkscrew from her grip.
"You sound like my mom," she replied and jerked the corkscrew back from him. The marshmallow slid down the spokes and threatened to drop. Spike stuck his hand out to catch it at the last minute and it exploded into his hand. He looked at the mess in disgust and wiped it off on Faye's terrycloth robe. "Hey!" she yelled and stood in indignation. Spike leaned back and peered up at her.
"Your underwear is showing."
Faye picked up the tray of marshmallows and dumped it on him. It didn't have much impact, since they just bounced off him. He laughed at this, so she grabbed a handful and tried to smash them into his face. He managed to eat most of them and shove a few into her robe. Faye started giggling.
"What?" Spike asked.
Faye took the tray the marshmallows had been on and turned it to reveal his reflection. She had managed to squish some marshmallow into his hair.
"So? You have them in your robe. And it's lumpy." Which made her laugh more. She knelt down and knocked into the champagne bottle, tipping it over onto Spike. "Christ on a bun!" Spike screamed and jumped up, rubbing at his robe with his bare hands. Faye laughed harder. He disengaged from his robe and slung it over the radiator to dry it. When he turned back, Faye was rolling on the floor, giggling, marshmallows occasionally falling from her robe. "What now?"
Faye was laughing so hard she couldn't talk, so she pointed at his boxers, which were covered in butterflies.
"Oh, shut up," he said and stalked into the bathroom. A minute later Faye heard the water turn on. Five minutes later she heard a garbled yell.
Her fit of giggles over, she asked, "What is it?"
"No towels!" He shouted from behind the door.
Faye sighed. She might be sober enough to play cards but she wasn't sure she could operate a phone. She picked it up and pressed different combinations of buttons until she reached the front desk. She told them to bring towels to their room. Since she was standing, she decided to open her robe and empty it of the marshmallows. The door to the bathroom opened, Spike muttering about being to drunk to care, his boxers wet and plastered to him. "Wait!" Faye shrieked, which made him look up. She closed her robe, but he was still looking at her, like she'd betrayed him or something.
"You weren't wearing a bra this time," Spike said.
Faye flopped down on the bed, suddenly wanting a separate room. One more comment from him and she'd go order one, too. Spike was still standing in the same position. "Oh, go on," she said.
She waited for the torture, reached to the table for her cigarettes. She wished he'd put his robe on.
"You're a damn beautiful woman," Spike said.