“What’ll you have to drink?” he asked. His pupils were dilated, his face slightly flushed.
“I don’t suppose they serve hoji here,” Anden said, thinking he could really use one.
“Nah, they should, though. It’s getting more popular, you know.”
“A beer, then,” Anden said. “Whatever you recommend.”
Remi flagged down a server, who brought Anden a lager and Remi a glass of some clear hard liquor. Anden’s host pulled the purple curtain across the booth shut and said, “So you like this place? You check out the dance floor? Resville’s a beautiful playground, it’s got everything you could wish for, crumb. You’re on vacation, so just tell me what you want and I’ll hook you up. Do you like older men? Younger?”
For a second, Anden was astonished. Then he was intrigued and reluctantly tempted. He was far away from Janloon. No one could possibly recognize him as a member of the Kaul family. He could have liaisons with as many strangers as he liked over here and never have to see them again. But on the phone, he’d told Hilo that he wouldn’t fully trust Jon Remi even as an ally; letting the man procure sex for him struck Anden as unwise. He suspected Remi had brought him here to unbalance him, to gain some sort of personal leverage. “I’m not on vacation,” he corrected.
A brief flash of irritation, possibly anger, crossed Remi’s face. “All business, huh? You’re all clan, from the old country, too good for this scene?” When Anden didn’t answer the rhetorical question, Remi snorted as if it had all been a joke and leaned forward intently, his face close enough that his brittle jade aura once again scratched at the edge of Anden’s Perception. “All right, then, since you want to get straight to it. The Mountain will pay me a hundred and fifty thousand thalirs a month, plus a kilo of cut jade. They’re allies with the barukan, so I’ll get some muscle from the Shoto-Espenian gangs on my side here in Resville. Also, I’ll be able to buy shine at a discount straight from the Uwiwa Islands, and the barukan say they can bring tourists from Shotar to the fighting dens and strip clubs.” Remi sat back. “I can’t think of many reasons to say no.”
Anden took a swallow of his drink while he gathered his thoughts. “You’d be breaking your alliance with Dauk Losun, who’s a friend of the No Peak clan. You’d have no more jade or support from Port Massy. The Mountain’s offer is lucrative, but it only makes you a paid enforcer, not a proper tributary. You won’t get a cut of their profits and you won’t be able to count on them if you run into any trouble. No Peak has more influence and more legitimate business interests and lawyers in this country.”
Remi shrugged. “I’ll take cold, hard cash over tributary status any day. What does that get me anyway? What do I care about clan prestige in Kekon? Or lawyers in Port Massy, for that matter?”
Anden could see that he was playing this incorrectly and tried to adjust. “We can match the money and jade,” he said. “We can’t sell you shine or bring you Shotarian tourists, but we can do something better. No Peak has an entire business office with dozens of people in Port Massy. If we had the local support to open a satellite office here in Resville, it would mean jobs and investment and an influx of people to the Kekonese population. That’s more people and money directly to your businesses but also you would get a percentage of our profits here. So the better we do, the better you would do as well.” As he spoke, additional things occurred to him and he said, “We already have a system in place of sending Green Bones between Kekon and Espenia for teaching and training opportunities. The fighters at your club, the up-and-coming ones who’ll be the next Danny Sinjo, could take advantage of that. And jade is legal for medical use now, because of the No Peak clan. You could have a foot in the door in that area.”
Remi listened to all of this with a thoughtful, calculating expression. “You’re putting me in a tough spot, crumb,” he said. He curled his bottom lip over his teeth and moved his jaw back and forth in a snidely indecisive manner. “Which clan should I pimp myself to? I know you old country islanders wouldn’t normally waste your spit on a kespie punk like me, but suddenly both of the big clans are eager to woo the locals so you can stick it to each other, as if you haven’t had enough opportunities to do so back home.” Remi shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “No Peak does have something in its favor, though. Iwe Kalundo from the Mountain clan is a bald, ugly fuck, and you’re not.”