Bust by Jason Starr, Ken Bruen Read Free Book Online

didn’t experience any downtime. At three, Max met with Harold Lipman to discuss a quote Lipman was preparing for a new branch of a Japanese bank that was opening on Park Avenue. Harold had used a graphics program to design a full-color picture of what the bank’s new Local and Wide Area Networks would look like. Max told Harold that the designs for the three-server network looked pretty and all, but it wasn’t going to get him the sale.
    The vodka hitting his stomach, Max said, “Take Takahashi to a strip joint or, better yet, call one of the escort agencies in my rolodex and buy him a whore or two. Trust me — that’s the only way you’ll close this thing.”
    Harold smiled, like he was embarrassed or thought Max was joking. Harold was thirty-six, tall and pale with thinning, graying hair, and he always seemed to wear the same wrinkled blue suit. Now there was a cheapskate who bought discount even if he could afford better. Before working for Max, Harold had worked as a retail computer salesman. He lived in Hackensack, for Christ’s sake, with his wife and six-year-old daughter.
    “I think I’ll just take him out to lunch,” Harold said.
    “Guys don’t want lunch, they want tits,” Max said seriously.
    Harold started to smile and Max cut him off with, “Hey, I’m not joking. If you want to start closing sales you’ll have to learn this sooner or later. You want to be a big kahuna, get some money to buy yourself some new goddamn suits?” He was going to add, And not at Today’s Man, but it was hard enough to educate the guy about table dances, he wasn’t going to start fashion policing the poor slob.
    “I don’t think he’s that kind of guy,” Harold said uncomfortably.
    “Is he a fudgepacker? If he is, I know a couple of guys who’d love to screw him.”
    “No,” Harold said. “I mean, he wears a wedding ring and he didn’t seem gay.”
    “Then I don’t know what the problem is — take him to a strip joint. Believe me, as soon as he has some tits bouncing in his face you’ll close the sale.” Max waited then said, “In this business, it’s make or break, and you gotta go for bust.”
    He let the joke linger, waiting to see if the schmuck got it.
    Finally, Harold laughed uncomfortably, said, “I’m going to go to his office and present the proposal in person and see what happens.”
    Max said, “Is it your wife?”
    “Is what my wife?”
    “The ball and chain, the guilt trips, because if it is, don’t tell her about it, that’s all. You think I tell my wife every time I go to a strip club? But your wife’ll be happy when you start bringing home the big commission checks. Trust me, I know this stuff and I certainly know women.”
    “It’s not my wife.”
    “Then what is it, your kid? You?”
    Harold, his face turning pink, said, “No.”
    “Look, you don’t have to enjoy it, I mean if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re not there to get off, you’re there for the client to get off. He’s Japanese right? Jesus Christ, the Japs love table dances. Trust me on this one. It’s a cultural thing. Maybe it’s because Japanese women, as a whole, have very small breasts. Why’re you smiling? I’m serious. But whatever you do, don’t, do not, buy him a Japanese dancer. Even if she has the big old-style silicone knockers, they don’t like that. It gets them angry because it reminds them of what they don’t have at home.”
    Harold stood up, took a few steps back toward the door, said, “Well, thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll just stick to my own sales techniques.”
    “Listen, you putz, I don’t want to have to let you go. I mean, I think you’re a smart guy. When you started here you knew more about hardware than you did about networking, but you’re catching up on your technical knowledge and I think in a month or two you’ll be right where you need to be. That said, I hope you understand, I can’t keep paying you your draw if you’re not making any