Chapter 7: Two Shows

"No," I said.

The smoke was still drifting off the barge. The bride's guests were still clapping on the lawn.

Hayes didn't even blink. "Why not?"

"Because it's insane. Because the judges will hear the same hand in both shows. Because I'd be building the thing that beats me."

"You think I'd beat you with your own show?"

"I think you'd try."

"I would." He grinned. "That's the fun part."

I wound up the firing line around my elbow and made him wait.

Patty and his men were pretending not to listen. Patty was terrible at it.

"Counteroffer," I said.

"Go."

"I design your show. I don't touch your firing. Your barge, your crew, your mistakes."

"Fine."

"And you pay the crew I lost."

He stopped grinning.

"Two hands, through Labor Day. Full wages. Until I can hire, your two guys work my bookings on your dime."

The older one with the white beard laughed into his glove.

"That's robbery," Hayes said.

"It's a design fee. You can't afford my design fee."

"Nobody can afford your design fee. That's why you win."

He looked at me for a long beat in the dark. Then he stuck out his hand.

His palm was rough and hot and he didn't let go right away.

"Planning nights at my shop," he said. "Your shells live there anyway."

"Fine."

"I'll feed you."

"You don't have to feed me."

"Buckley. I've seen what you eat. You had a gas station burrito on your dashboard at the hearing."

"That was a backup burrito."

"I'm feeding you."

The first planning night was Monday.

I took the skiff across at seven with my laptop in a dry bag.

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