They didn't build things like this anymore, with this level of careful craftsmanship. It was a clich' thing to say, the sort of comment that an old man might make while admiring an old piece of architecture, or a fine smoking pipe. But this man could hardly be termed old and he wasn't much in the habit of being concerned with buildings.
He was speaking about the large riverboat that he was proud to call both work and home. It was a relic, albeit a well-taken care of and renovated relic. It had years of arguments, whispers of love, cold death and warm life worked into the old wood and oft polished metal that kept it whole and afloat. He thought often of the workmanship of the vessel, for a myriad different reasons. This time, however, the particular case was for how quiet his office was.
Situated toward the front half of the boat, it was where a majority of deals were carried out. Of course, there was plenty to be done on the floors of the venue, but that was elbow rubbing and managing the crowds, making sure people were having a good time and would look forward to returning. And tell their friends, of course. It was a business after all, and word of mouth could make you or break you, as the saying went.
It was a room he had always liked. Paneled in dark wood, large enough to allow a chaise to one side, a bookcase and a tea cart that had been reformed to instead house glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes, all filled with liquor. A large copy of Lucien Levy-Dhurmer's Eve took up prominent residence against one wall, close to his heavy mahogany desk. Two royal blue upholstered chairs sat across from him, empty at the moment. Though workers came and went below, it was quiet here, so that the only sounds were of the languid, bluesy music wafting from the record player behind him, low and evocative of an old-time parlor, and the almost unheard scratch of pen against paper.
This part of the job always took more concentration than the rest. Mingling and guaranteeing the happiness of patrons was a simple thing for him- he'd been bred to entertain and it came easier still after so many years. The inner workings, though, that took a different sort of finesse.
He had employees to mind the books and keep track of the money. To take care of those financial and finely tuned business matters that some owners couldn't be bothered with. He didn't claim to be an expert in any of those areas, but he knew that the man who left important matters entirely to other people often found himself cheated and penniless. He made it a point to keep abreast of all facets, and the one facet he was always involved in was hiring and all business contracts.
While the company was legitimate and what it claimed to be, a casino with the additions of bars, a smoking room, dance hall, music venue and full restaurant, there were many different people he catered to. They weren't all the casual patron who wanted a few shots and to watch a show. Some wanted female companionship, some wanted a little something to take the edge off. It was the nature of this sort of career and although he could have said no to these things, it was bad for business.
As much as he enjoyed his work, a profit was the name of the game and it just so happened that in his experience, those who could pay the most expected the most, and the way to keep them happy was to provide what they wanted with quick availability and discretion. These sorts of connections were the hardest to cultivate. And while Rhy"Din had its more than fair share of individuals willing to assist in such capacities, finding ones you could trust and who wouldn't sell you out to a higher bidder was much more difficult.
These were the positions that he was needing to fill rather sooner than later. The casino had been open for tours to a few select people, but opening day was fast approaching. Most positions had been matched with suitable applicants so that being short staffed during the grand opening wasn't a concern. Yet it wouldn't be long until those with the means would start inquiring about where to get the specialties they were accustomed to.
As his pen moved fluidly along the oatmeal colored paper, filling out the final details on a contract for employment, there came a knock on the office door. He finished his sentence, dotting it purposefully with a period before he brought grey eyes up toward the sound. "Come in," he called, voice flooded with the bayou.
The door opened just far enough to allow the tall woman inside, who closed it again softly behind her. Her skin was the creamy brown of good coffee, black hair worn down and over one shoulder, twisted at the ends into a thick, lazy spiral of curl. Eyes just as dark were lightened with pale pink shadow, the same color as the fitted dress she wore.
"Leda," he said with a smile, laying the pen down beside the paper and leaning back in his chair. His assistant, for lack of a better word, she'd worked for him for a long while. He had a small circle of people whom he could trust implicitly, and she was amongst them. She had a particularly good knack for reading people and in this business, it was a valuable asset to possess. "How does it go downstairs?"
"On our end, fine," she said, moving forward but not sitting. "Someone just came to call. They want to speak with you."
"What about?"
"What else? Business." She smiled, teeth straight and white against the subtle shine of glossed lips. "Do you have time now or would you like me to politely ask them to return after making an appointment?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "You know there are two things I don't like to put off, business and pretty women." A wink and he raised his hands to make sure his slightly waved brunette hair was swept back into place. "Do you know what this particular business is?"
A shake of dark hair then. "They said they'd only speak to the owner of the establishment. I'll see them in."
He was speaking about the large riverboat that he was proud to call both work and home. It was a relic, albeit a well-taken care of and renovated relic. It had years of arguments, whispers of love, cold death and warm life worked into the old wood and oft polished metal that kept it whole and afloat. He thought often of the workmanship of the vessel, for a myriad different reasons. This time, however, the particular case was for how quiet his office was.
Situated toward the front half of the boat, it was where a majority of deals were carried out. Of course, there was plenty to be done on the floors of the venue, but that was elbow rubbing and managing the crowds, making sure people were having a good time and would look forward to returning. And tell their friends, of course. It was a business after all, and word of mouth could make you or break you, as the saying went.
It was a room he had always liked. Paneled in dark wood, large enough to allow a chaise to one side, a bookcase and a tea cart that had been reformed to instead house glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes, all filled with liquor. A large copy of Lucien Levy-Dhurmer's Eve took up prominent residence against one wall, close to his heavy mahogany desk. Two royal blue upholstered chairs sat across from him, empty at the moment. Though workers came and went below, it was quiet here, so that the only sounds were of the languid, bluesy music wafting from the record player behind him, low and evocative of an old-time parlor, and the almost unheard scratch of pen against paper.
This part of the job always took more concentration than the rest. Mingling and guaranteeing the happiness of patrons was a simple thing for him- he'd been bred to entertain and it came easier still after so many years. The inner workings, though, that took a different sort of finesse.
He had employees to mind the books and keep track of the money. To take care of those financial and finely tuned business matters that some owners couldn't be bothered with. He didn't claim to be an expert in any of those areas, but he knew that the man who left important matters entirely to other people often found himself cheated and penniless. He made it a point to keep abreast of all facets, and the one facet he was always involved in was hiring and all business contracts.
While the company was legitimate and what it claimed to be, a casino with the additions of bars, a smoking room, dance hall, music venue and full restaurant, there were many different people he catered to. They weren't all the casual patron who wanted a few shots and to watch a show. Some wanted female companionship, some wanted a little something to take the edge off. It was the nature of this sort of career and although he could have said no to these things, it was bad for business.
As much as he enjoyed his work, a profit was the name of the game and it just so happened that in his experience, those who could pay the most expected the most, and the way to keep them happy was to provide what they wanted with quick availability and discretion. These sorts of connections were the hardest to cultivate. And while Rhy"Din had its more than fair share of individuals willing to assist in such capacities, finding ones you could trust and who wouldn't sell you out to a higher bidder was much more difficult.
These were the positions that he was needing to fill rather sooner than later. The casino had been open for tours to a few select people, but opening day was fast approaching. Most positions had been matched with suitable applicants so that being short staffed during the grand opening wasn't a concern. Yet it wouldn't be long until those with the means would start inquiring about where to get the specialties they were accustomed to.
As his pen moved fluidly along the oatmeal colored paper, filling out the final details on a contract for employment, there came a knock on the office door. He finished his sentence, dotting it purposefully with a period before he brought grey eyes up toward the sound. "Come in," he called, voice flooded with the bayou.
The door opened just far enough to allow the tall woman inside, who closed it again softly behind her. Her skin was the creamy brown of good coffee, black hair worn down and over one shoulder, twisted at the ends into a thick, lazy spiral of curl. Eyes just as dark were lightened with pale pink shadow, the same color as the fitted dress she wore.
"Leda," he said with a smile, laying the pen down beside the paper and leaning back in his chair. His assistant, for lack of a better word, she'd worked for him for a long while. He had a small circle of people whom he could trust implicitly, and she was amongst them. She had a particularly good knack for reading people and in this business, it was a valuable asset to possess. "How does it go downstairs?"
"On our end, fine," she said, moving forward but not sitting. "Someone just came to call. They want to speak with you."
"What about?"
"What else? Business." She smiled, teeth straight and white against the subtle shine of glossed lips. "Do you have time now or would you like me to politely ask them to return after making an appointment?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "You know there are two things I don't like to put off, business and pretty women." A wink and he raised his hands to make sure his slightly waved brunette hair was swept back into place. "Do you know what this particular business is?"
A shake of dark hair then. "They said they'd only speak to the owner of the establishment. I'll see them in."