Part 8 (1/2)
”Everything? Did you say everything?”
”Everything.. including your sweet adorable self.”
”I don't understand, lady. Are you saying you want to buy my store?”
”Not the store, just what's in it. I'm thinkin' this place could do better in a new location. Truthfully now, how has business been going for you lately?”
The owner tossed his pad and pencil back onto the counter.
”Honestly? Not so hot. My main supplier for this junk just raised his prices . . . something about a new union in his factory. I either gotta raise my prices, which won't help, since this stuff is hard enough to move as it is, or go out of business, which I've seriously been considering.”
I thought it would be best not to comment on the union he'd mentioned.
”You don't think a new location would help?”
”New location ... big deal! This is the Bazaar at Deva, lady. One row of shops is like any other for pedestrian traffic. On any one of those rows you can find better stuff than I got to sell.”
This was turnin' out ta be even better than I had hoped.
”Just suppose,” I said, ”just suppose the new location was in a hotel, and suppose that hotel had a casino and disco. That would give you a captive clientele, since n.o.body wants ta leave the building and wander around to find somethin' they can buy right where they are.”
”A hotel and casino, eh? I dunno, though. Junk is still junk.”
”Not if you had an exclusive to print the name of the place on everythin' you sell. Junk with a name on it is souvenirs, and folks expect ta pay more for them. Right?”
The proprietor was startin' ta get excited.
”That's right! You got a place like this, lady? How much ya asking for rent?”
”Minimal, with a piece of the action goin' ta the house. How does that sound?”
”How much floor s.p.a.ce do you have available? If I can expand, I can get a volume discount from my supplier and still raise my prices. Say, do you have a printer lined up yet?”
”Hadn't really thought about it.”
”Good. I got a brother-in-law who does good work cheap . . . fast, too. How about a restaurant? All those folks gotta eat.”
Now that was one that had slipped by both Vic and me.
”A restaurant?”
”. . .'Cause if you don't, I know a guy who's been looking to move his deli since they raised the rent on the place he's got.”
I had a feelin' my problems with the storefronts was solved.
”This is the pits, you know?”
”How about that? The Pitts?”
”No. How about the Funny Farm?”
”Uh-uh. The Snake Pit?”
”Will you get off pits?”
”Well, then, how about ...”
What we finally settled on was The Fun House. Our judgment was influenced a bit by the fact that I managed to locate a down-at-the-heels carnival. We let 'em set up on our grounds, and they gave us our pick of their displays for decorations.
The best of the lot was the outsized figures they had on top of their rides . . . and particularly The Fun House. These figures were of bein's from all over the dimensions and were animated to move their arms and heads while hidden speakers went ”Ho Ho Ho” at pa.s.sersby. I thought they were terrific and had them installed all over the outside of the hotel. . . except for the Fat Lady. Her I had installed in the men's John off the lobby.
Once we had that, the rest of the decorations fell into place. There wasn't much we could do to make the shape of the building excitin', so I had it painted with wide stripes ... like a circus tent, only with more colors.
Vic did the disco, and it was a beaut. He did the whole place in black: floors, walls, ceiling, furniture, everything. He also attached chairs and tables to the walls and ceiling at different angles with life-sized dummies in evening attire. The overall effect was one of disorientation, so that when the band was goin' and the lights flas.h.i.+n', you weren't really sure which way was up. To add to the effect, the dance floor was slanted a bit and rotated slowly. It was like bein' suspended in s.p.a.ce and bein' buffeted by cosmic winds and gravity at the same time. He even named the club ”The Pit” in appreciation of me and to apologize for comin' down so hard on the name when I suggested it for the hotel.
The casino was all mine, and I decided ta go for broke. I found a painter with a sense of humor, and we did the place in camouflage . . . except instead of usin' greens and browns, we leaned heavy on the basic colors in day-glo shades. For a crownin' touch, we s.p.a.ced mirrors all around the place, but we used the distortion mirrors from the carnival Fun House. This not only gave the place the illusion of bein' larger, but when the customers glanced at themselves in the mirrors, they had the same kind of meltin' lines as the decor. It definitely raised questions in the mind as to exactly which reality we were operatin' in.
Vic was afraid the impact of the whole operation was a bit bright, but I argued that the whole idea was ta stand out from the crowd and let people know we were there. I did, however, unbend enough to agree that we should have Skeeve on hand for our meetin' with Hysterium the night before our opening. I mean, negotiatin' never was my strong suit, and I had no idea how the client was going to react to our rather innovative ideas.
”You've ruined me! That's what you've done! Ruined me!”
That was our client speakin'. You may guess from the sound of it that he was less than pleased with our work. When you realize that that was how he was soundin' after we had spent an hour calmin' him down, you've got an idea of exactly how unhappy he was.
”I'm not sure I understand what your problem is, Mr. Hysterium,” Vic said. ”If you have a complaint . . .”
”A complaint?” the Deveel shrieked. ”I wouldn't know where to start! What did you people think you were doing, anyway?”
”We were tumin' your dump into a profit-makin' hotel. That's what we were supposed to do.”
I was tryin' to stay out of this 'cause a my temper, but I had to get a word or two in here somewhere.
”A hotel? A hotel? This isn't a hotel! What I left you with was a hotel! What I came back to is a sideshow! And what do you mean by profitable? All the rooms on the first floor are gone! That cuts my rental earnings by twenty percent!”
”Twenty percent of an empty hotel is still nothing!” I shot back.
”Ma.s.sha's right,” Vic said, stepping between us. ”We needed that s.p.a.ce for attractions to draw in some customers. Besides, everything we put in there generates revenues for the hotel.”
”Not if they don't sell anything!” Hysterium argued. ”Have you been in any of those places? Have you seen the junk they're selling? And the prices . . . they're charging more for a cup of coffee in that club you put in than I'm used to paying for a whole meal!”
”Not everybody eats as cheap as you do,” I muttered under my breath.
”What?”
”I said you stand ta clear a heap when they do ... sell stuff to the customers, that is.”
”But there aren't going to be any . . . Ohhh! I'm ruined!”