Tempered Ice

"I know it, Davy. Negotiation sucks. It's settling a divorce on the morning of the wedding. You tell them just how much - and specifically in what way - you want to ruin their life, then you kiss them on the mouth and cut the cake. It sucks. But it can be fun."

To drive home the metaphor, Laina removed the flowers from the vase in the center of the table and tossed them over her head. They landed in the walkway of the restaurant patio she was seated at with Davis, her client of many years. Satisfied, Laina downed the remainder of her scotch and soda.

Davis was, as always, embarrassed by Laina's loud voice and big gestures, but her negotiation skills made her too valuable a manager to beg discretion. Besides, Davis knew it was her boisterous personality that made her a great negotiator in the first place. He never had much of a taste for it, preferring to save his energy for his work. But Laina's thirst for blood and tears were, if perhaps unsavory, renowned throughout the industry.

A waiter approached and asked Laina if she'd like another scotch and soda.

"No, I'm just here trying to get a rash from these cushions you let the street people piss all over. Yes, I'd like another scotch and soda."

The waiter nodded, picked up Laina's glass, and looked to Davis, who politely waved him away. Davis asked Laina what kind of concessions they could expect in the next round, points on the back end, etc.

"Look, kid. I can speculate on what they're returning with, but it doesn't matter, because I'm just getting started. Plus, I'm hoping that they take their time. I'd like to see them stall until after the holidays."

Davis began to object.

"I know, I know - you don't want to be left twisting during the break. I get it. But see it from their point of view. They're with their families for the first time all year. And believe me, they all hate it. They get bored and I want them bored. Panicked that they won't have any meetings to come back to in the new year. It's a tactic that always works. 'Yes, yes,' they'll say. 'Anything to get the project going,' they'll say."

Laina grabbed a tube of lipstick from her purse and threw it full speed at the back of another patron's head. It missed and rolled into the street. No one except Davis seemed to notice the offense and Laina immediately returned to the conversation.

"However, if they want to wrap this up before bitter winter ennui sets in, so be it. I've got lots of other shit happening in December."

The waiter returned with Laina's fourth scotch and soda. She lifted the glass and studied its contents.

"You did it again, you drippy prick. How many times have I got to tell you: no new ice. I need the cubes that were soaking in the scotch from the last one."

The waiter apologized and grabbed for the glass, but Laina stabbed at his reaching hand with her fork. The waiter retracted his hand, narrowly avoiding a serious injury.

"Forget it. It's already here, so it's here already."

She drank deep as the waiter smiled nervously and backed away, kept backing away and never returned. Laina set the glass down and smiled at Davis. She winked and kicked his shin hard under the table.

It was getting late. The stranger that didn't get hit with Laina's lipstick stood up from his table and left with his friends. The patio was beginning to thin out, the night growing too cold for outside dining. Davis rubbed his throbbing leg and thought about the upcoming winter, another without a solid deal in place.

Laina didn't seem to mind the cold at all. Far from it. She cooled herself with the condensation from her scotch and soda glass, drawing it lightly across her neck.

"Yeah, Davy. Negotiation sucks. It's capsizing the boat before you board it and set sail. You threaten deployment of every weapon in your arsenal, make them think you'd rather see the whole shebang at the bottom of the ocean. But if you stick to your cannons, they'll recognize that you're the real captain. And if you're very patient, maybe they'll even let you steer the ship."