"We be flamboyant," Mark said with a grin. "Rattle their cages, see what falls out. Is your Sexy Executive Suit still clean and ready?"
I grinned. "I have three of those, you know I have one ready. Which do you want, black or white?"
Mark thought for a second, then smiled. "White. It contrasts your hair more, and if you just happen to get a grease stain on it that pulls attention to your breasts, well, shucks, guess it can't be avoided."
* * *
Pressman Contractors looked like any of a half dozen other industrial companies Mark and I had visited for potential investment during our work. The front windows showed a somewhat cluttered but semi-organized mess of machine parts that I couldn't even begin to identify. The shop was somewhat dark, with a bored looking guy manning the counter. We drove up in our customized Bentley and got out, Marcus in his skinny panted suit with counter stitching and pocket watch, me looking like an anime wet dream. Thankfully the suit was mostly Lycra, I doubt it would have been able to move otherwise.
As expected, the counterman first caught sight of the car, then of me. Marcus' plan to be a "business peacock" depended on me pulling as much attention from his face as possible, especially when he went into areas that the Confederation or Owen Lynch could have men who knew his old face. That and it helped distract from the spring loaded knife blade he kept attached to his left wrist. A twist of his clenched left hand, and the top of his forearm would grow a ten inch razor sharp spike faster than you could blink.
"Good afternoon," Marcus said as he came in. "This is Pressman's, right?"
The counter clerk, a reasonably handsome kid who stood about five ten, nodded. "Yes, how can I help you guys?"
It was my cue to take over. "I'm Sophie Warbird, and this is Marcus Smiley," I said, offering my hand in such a way as to make my already noticeable cleavage roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. "Our investment firm brought over a file on this company, and while we understand it is a bit strange to be visiting on a Saturday, do you think it would be okay if we looked around, get a feel for things?"
"Ah, sure," the kid said. He looked like he was about seventeen, maybe eighteen, and I was sure that with the show I was giving him, I'd filed a long term spot in his spank bank. "I'm Mike Pressman, my dad owns the place."
"Really?" Marcus said, reaching over and shaking the kid's hand. "Well, you're just the sort of person I wanted to meet. So what are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon when I guess most guys your age are out with a pretty girl?"
"Covering for my brother Scott, mostly," Mike said. "He was supposed to work the afternoon Saturday shift, but he begged me to cover for him. He's got a new girlfriend, and he wanted time with her enough to not only give me his pay, but an extra hundred bucks."
"Sounds like a good deal for you," Marcus said with a disarming smile. "I do hope the young lady is worth it for your brother. Tell me, is your father around?"
"No, but I can give him a call if you want," Mike replied. "As for my brother, he told me she was gorgeous. Redhead, which my brother is weak for."
“Sure, if your dad could come down for a few minutes I'd appreciate it. In the meantime, you think you could show me around the shop?"
"Sure," Mike replied. "Let me give him a call. Uh, there's some chemicals and stuff around the shop, so it's best if you guys stay inside and don't touch much until I get back, but you can look around if you want. Three minutes or so."
Mike disappeared into the back, and Mark looked at me, for the moment his Marcus persona dropped. "Keep your eyes open," he mouthed to me while he stepped around the shop, his eyes taking in everything.
I kept most of my attention on the back, where I could hear Mike talking excitedly to someone on the phone, while Mark walked around the shop. He looked closely at a few of the items before circling the shop some more, semi-casually strutting while Mike finished up his phone call. As he came back into the room, Marcus was back, looking around at the disassembled window air conditioner unit on one of the benches. "It's been a long time since I've seen one of these monsters," he said to Mike, who came over after giving me a once over with his eyes. "Are these still popular?"
"That's actually not an air conditioner, but I can see why you'd think it," Mike said. "That's actually part of an industrial freezer. Works the same way as an air conditioner, but it obviously blows a lot colder. This one is just in for a biannual checkup and recharge of the coolant, I think."
"So are you trained in the HVAC business?" Marcus asked, letting his natural charisma pull Mike in. It was safe, the kid was so young that there was no way he knew the full extent of his family's business. "No offense Mike, but you look like you're a junior in high school."