f*ckin' problem

JASPER BURMAN. aka JAZ.

[jasperburman]

REMI WARNER.

     “Hm.” Cora smiled, seemingly satisfied, and Remi saw a chance to get away.    “Tell Harry I said hi,” he offered, then a tip of his chin to Jasper.      “I will. ‘Till next time.”

     Leaving them there, he stopped by Maiko on his way out for a quick transfer from her phone to his, then headed for the door.

[jasperburman]

REMI WARNER.

     “That they do,” Cora agreed, tossing Jasper a wink, too. “But do try to sell it a bit more at the event.”

     “You got it,” he answered, presenting a large smile to exaggerate his point. “Always.”

     “Businessman through and through.”

[jasperburman]

REMI WARNER.

   “Good to meet ya.” Remi shook Jasper’s hand. Liquor guy. Which one?      “Mr. Burman here is the man behind JAZ,” Cora interjected, as though she’d read his mind. “You tried it, Remi?”    “Yeah. ‘S good. Your nickname ‘r somethin’?”

     “Thanks.”

     “Eh, kinda. People like bullshit,” he shrugged, his gaze hopping to Cora, then the table. 

[jasperburman]

REMI WARNER.

     The group around the table dissolved, most getting up, some moving toward Maiko, some to each other, some… leaning across the table to be obnoxious.    “Sorry, sweetheart,” Remi stretched his lips into a smile, briefly meeting her gaze, “’m already snatched.” With that, he walked away, setting his sights on Cora, who was just getting out of a short conversation with the restricted food supplier. It’d be bad form not to say hi before he left.      “Remi!”

   “Hi.” This time, he presented a more genuine smile.      “You look well.” Did he? Cora beamed back at him, a slender hand squeezing his bicep for a second before she lowered her arm. “How are the girls?”    “Fine. Your old man? Everythin’ good?”      “Oh, you know my father. Busy as ever.”    “Yup. Real shame ‘bout that casino.”      “Ah, well—” Cora canted her head to the side, “—those responsible have paid their dues. We’ll reopen somewhere else.”    “Takes more’n a raid, huh?”      “You know it,” she winked.

     Jasper observed the others, making mental notes of important information — useful — his attention straying to Warner when he approached Cora Harlow, familiarity in their body language. The name Warner had been in the drug game for decades; where money had been Jasper’s one-up, that had been Remi’s. All Jasper knew of the man, of his father, were stories. Adonis he’d met at another gathering; and that man had enough of a mouth on him that Jasper was painted a clear enough picture. Demi, from his childhood. Silva he’d worked with the most. Even dealt with, when Jasper had the occasional need for wine. And Quaye, relatively unknown to him. But everyone was someone; all connections worth having. So Jasper sucked down the rest of his cigarette, crushing it in the nearest ashtray before he interrupted the conversation between Cora and Remi.

     “Excuse me—” a cordial smile passed between them both as he pushed his sunglasses into his hair, “—for interrupting. Miss Harlow, a pleasure. Thank you for the invitation.” He smile broadened with a natural charm his parents had beaten into him, automatic in its ability to push past the ever-present anxiety that twisted his intestines in its fist. A curt nod was given to Remi as he lifted a hand to extend it toward him, “Jasper Burman.”

[jasperburman]

REMI WARNER.

     “Good evening, everyone, and thank you for your time.” Cora Harlow entered, heels clicking melodically against the polished floor as she approached the head of the table and came to a stop. “I trust my staff has seen to your comfort.”

     “Welcome;” she continued after a beat, “and to those of you who’ve been with us before: welcome back. You’re here because you’re the best at what you do — and with your services, my clientele, and a whole lot of silver, we’re all in a position to… scratch each other’s backs, as it were.”      Adonis, seated between Remi and the artificially silver-haired woman, crossed his legs, twisting his body toward her a little.      “Three weeks from today, starting at curfew, at the Nebula. Adonis,” she smiled at him, and he smiled back, “I need your whole roster. Premiums for the stage, the rest for mingling.” Her smile and her gaze continued around the table, resting on each person in turn. “Remi, the usual. Coke, E, weed, echo, acid, enough of your runners to get it around. Mx. Silva, wine. Ms. Quaye, unsynthesized beef, foie gras, any other delicacies you can get your hands on. Mr. Burman, liquor, beer. Vodka, gin, tequila, rum. Absinthe, if you’re able. And Flowers: condoms of all shapes and sizes and flavors, et cetera, et cetera. You will all—” Cora addressed the table again, “—receive more specific details from Maiko, my coordinator, when you leave.” A brief gesture toward the woman in the leopard dress at the door. “She will be your point of contact, and you will be given a way to reach out to her as well. Questions?”

     Jasper had none — an internal scoff to her if you’re able — his demeanor and posture remaining neutral as the woman gave Maiko the reins for the time being. He felt acrylic tips graze the back of his neck and the tendons in his neck visibly tightened with discomfort and annoyance. He turned in his chair, giving Demi a firm smile, “Don’t touch me.”      “Aren’t you excited? First time, right? Want a date?” She batted her lime green lashes, bitting the tip of her nail. 

     “No.” He stood, body twisting to face Maiko, stepping closer if only to put space between himself and Demi, “And I got the absinthe.”       “What about you, Mister Warner?” Demi’s voice rang out behind Jasper, and he could see her leaning across the table in his peripheral, “Adonis told me he was hopin’ to snatch you up but... finders keepers.”

[jasperburman]

REMI WARNER.

     Slowly but surely the seats around the table were filling up, one underground entrepreneur after another, and though the setting was relaxed, meant to cater to them — an offer — there was always a certain element of tension waiting on a person who had not only the money, but the contacts and the influence to get them all in a room together. No two people at the table were in the exact same vein of business, so there was no direct competition present, but their business was cutthroat — deadly — and so, when he bothered with a glance, Remi saw the same disguised wariness in the others’ faces that he was sure was reflected in his own.

     “Warner.” A voice to his right drew his attention. “Heard anything about this year’s locale?” The man known mononymously as Adonis watched him with mild curiosity, idly stirring his drink. Golden makeup framed his dark eyes; his midnight blue velvet and brocade smoking jacket accented in the same color, as well as every single piece of jewelry he wore: rings, earrings, septum piercing. If asked, he would’ve referred to himself as a curator. To Remi, he was a glorified pimp.    “No.” The scent of cigarette smoke drifted toward him from the opposite side of the table — some newcomer, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. Remi didn’t know him by sight, but he was sure that if he was here, he’d have heard about either his product or his operation. He flicked his gaze back to Adonis, now concentrating on his drink, pushing ice cubes down into the red liquid with his stirrer and watching them rise with a thoughtful expression on his face. The last person arrived, taking their seat. Now to wait for the host…

     Jasper listened to the passing conversation, mindlessly picking up bits of information, letting the following thoughts trickle through. Warner. He knew the name, not only from his empire — one built long before the towering brunet was even born — but as the husband of someone on the do not entertain list. Wondered idly how many contacts that arrangement burned away for the man as he puffed perfectly rounded, thick smoke rings into the air. The other, seated next to Warner, Jasper knew just from appearance; laden in obnoxious gold from head to toe, a walking advertisement for what Jasper wished he could call cheap trash — but Adonis had the name he had for a reason, the very one that bought him a seat at this very table. 

     The company to Jasper’s right he knew personally: Demi Flowers, born as Demi Torres, but she’d changed her surname once her business flourished — or rather, once she’d taken down the person wearing the crown. He’d known her when she still dealt; high-quality birth control that wasn’t on the verge of expiration. They didn’t speak often, but one day, two years ago, when he went to buy, he met up with someone different, and the name Demi Flowers was on everyone’s lips. A coup. And while Jasper never knew how she pulled it off, he knew it’d been in part to the people she had in her corner. If there was one thing the woman always had in dozens, it was friends — or at least, loyal connections.       Shiny, red lips stretched into a delightful, bright smile, her golden streaked pink hair tied back into a bun, wavy tendrils framing her face. “At least you dressed for the occasion!” She twittered excitedly, wiggling long turquoise nails near his neck, close enough for him to feel the flutter, because she always wore a mask of pleasantries, but he’d seen it fall on more than one occasion, and beneath that smile was a razor-sharp bite. 

     He waved his hand dismissively at hers, offering little else but a scoff before the woman stationed at the front of the room opened the door to let in the woman of the moment. 

[jasperburman]

     A handful of others were already seated around the glossy, black oblong table when Jasper entered, the conference room flooded with a golden glow from the large windows that took up an entire wall, with Battery City a glittering, neon doused skyline that sucked the sun behind its towering peaks. 

     A woman with a red, leopard print dress — cleavage in open, clear view — extended an arm to direct him to his seat, displaying an appeasing smile as she offered him some water that was positioned on two trays in the center of the table. Or another option. Jasper shook his head, barely giving the woman a second of his attention before she retreated, returning to her position by the door. 

     Jasper propped an elbow on the arm of his chair, lighting a cigarette as browns hidden behind sunglasses passed over the other people, to see if he recognized any of them. And he did. If you were a dealer, it was wise to know the others — competition or an ally — and even wiser to make sure they landed on the latter end of that deal. Even if you planned on stabbing them in the back later. Not that that was his style…

[jasperburman]

Queenie: loralie is an agent. i am wanted. my people are wanted. i am not going to RISKSDJGHSDJHK

Queenie: !!!!!!

Queenie: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Queenie: dont fucking text me again

[jasperburman]

Queenie: take your head out of my fucking ass and my fucking business you fucking idiot

Jasper: i would if ud have talked 2 her by now

Jasper: shes ur friend

Jasper: and if u just leave her behind then shell get closer to loralie anyway and then what

Jasper: im saying dont be fucking stubborn

[jasperburman]

Jasper: u should call soph

Jasper: before u begin bitching yes we hung out i saw her at a party

Jasper: she rly misses u

Jasper: maybe u should just hear her out

Jasper: im tempted to put my phone on silent so i dont have to immediately read the caps lock message of ur a fucking idiot

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

   “Good; me too.”

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

   “We don’t have to sleep, like… right away…”

     “Yeah?” Jasper reached out, his index finger drifting across her thigh as he leaned closer, “I got some more energy in me.”

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

   “I don’t think anyone would love that. Anyway—” Soph nudged Jasper’s thigh with her foot. “You wanna go to bed?”

     “Yeah. Probably for the best.”

     “All good things must come to an end. Plus… y’know, beauty sleep.” Jasper batted his eyelashes.

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

   “No jokes I won’t think are funny.”

     Jasper traced an X across the center of his chest, “You got it.”

     “As much as I can, at least. Dunno what you might not find funny. Don’t think I’d love a mind-reading ability either.”

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

   “I don’t know… Depends whether or not you wanna sleep on the couch.”

     “So no jokes.”

     “Got it.”

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

   “Of course.”

   “Whenever you want. There’s always a place here for my friends.”

     Jasper’s features lit up at her sentiment, a mixture of endearment and surprise — because sometimes he forgot how sweet she could really be, especially since he rarely spent time around the type. “Thanks.”

     “Guess it’d be a bad time to make a joke about not needing to worry about Agent Pierce busting in to question me?”

[jasperburman]

SOPHIA CENDAN.

     Soph smiled, a warmth spreading through her that was amplified by the alcohol in her system.

   “That’s really sweet.”

     “What can I say? I’m really sweet.”

     “Mind if I crash here tonight? Really not feelin’ the drive back.”