Sometimes I think I'll never understand women. Here was this gorgeous wench, five-feet-ten and built like a hermit's dream, and what did she pick? An egregious little idiot who—
"Sign here," Shanig grunted. He fitted the paper onto a desk pad and whipped it toward me along with a stylus.
It was a simple enough contract release giving me full title to the Annabelle plus five thousand credits in exchange for uncontested ownership to one male Mimasan smiley answering to the name of Joey.
Something about the pad-and-stylus routine rang a warning bell at the back of my mind but I was too mad to listen. I wrote "William X. Bailey" in the proper blank and the deed was done.
When Perry Acree and Shanig's hired homo signed as witnesses all of us stood up but Shanig.
"That's all," Shanig snapped, pushing a check for five thousand credits at me. "Get out!"
I took the check and went out, so mad I could feel my ears crisping. Entering the reception room again, it didn't soothe my mangled ego any to get a disdainful once-over from the redhead.
"I'm taking a weekend off with this little item to see the sights," I said, snapping the check. "Like to come along for the ride? There's a little pleasure colony up on Phobos that's out of this universe, where anything goes."
"Not with you, you swamp-stained wolf," she snapped. When I waited, grinning, she bit her lip and her eyes shot green sparks. "Beat it or I'll buzz for Perry."