This is my entry for flash fiction fridays, another good prompt this week. Unlike, last week I will definitely be backing this one up since my last entry for flash fiction friday was deleted due to a malfunctioning Blogger Site.
Prompt: Write a story of a negotiation and have your characters use at least two
tactics
Genre: Any
Word Count: 1000 words
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| From site 6 ways to prove batman is a pimp |
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"Look 'ere, dig, you gon' have ta give up somethin', ifn you wanna work dis here track."
"You country boys got some nerve", his voice not much above a whisper. "It would be a grave mistake to play me cheap". He chuckles softly as he spreads his feet apart and places his hands behind his back, wrist in hand. Displaying a sly smile, "Perhaps, we can work something out".
A reedy voice pipes in "Dat' depend on watchu got in mind, big tyme. New playas mean les' fo' 'erybody. Drawing attention to his blood red suede blazer by brushing his hands down one sleeve, then the other.
"Less! That just shows me that I made the right decision by coming down here and showing you boys how to work this track. The way I got it figured, we can all get paid. Who knows, I might just double your take." His sardonic grin, expressing anything but sincerity.
"Look 'ere, you fer real, why not sho' us a little somethin'. Uh cupple of ya' benchwarmers should do the tric'." Rubbing his hands together, and licking his top lip in anticipation of the answer.
"Maybe, you transfer members of your stable back and forth, like so many bargaining chips but, I have a little more regard for those that walk the stroll for me." He tucks his top lip in mock thought, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Actually, I might be willing to lend you my top earner for say, two months."
Still primping, now straightening his belt beneath his suede jacket, he pipes in, "we was thinkin' more lyk fo'."
Tilting his head to one side and then the other, he slowly nods, "I think, I can agree to that." His accompanying wry grin suggesting more machinations to come. "But, what's exactly in it for me." The intervening silence made awkward by the blank looks on the visages of his two would be adversaries.
"Look 'ere, playa', you ken werk erything frum riversyd ta dakota."
His partner's reedy voice pipes in, "dat's fitteen blocks a pryme real ehstayt, you ain't gon' get dat kinda deal no'where."
"Where should I send Minxy to, in order to seal the deal."
"Right 'ere be nice, 'bout two nights frum now, round saym tyme."
With one last nod, he smoothly turns on his heel and glides away into the inky, fog shrouded night, wearing a wide grin and whistling a wordless tune, he had learned from his mother long ago.
