“This project of ours. You’ve created something better than I imagined. Not to say that I ever doubted your talents, but you’ve outdone yourself. So what would you say to a collaborative business partnership? Perhaps on a summer line to test the waters?”
Briar’s heart fluttered in his throat. “An entire line.”
“Yes. If it fits into your schedule—”
“Of course! I would love t—I’m honored. Of course, of course I will.”
Linden beamed. “Wonderful! Then all that’s left is the contract.”
He rolled out a sheaf of parchment from within his robes and set it down on the table. Rising, he produced a pen and told Briar to take his time reading it while he fetched another drink for a toast. While he was gone, Briar scanned the pages. It detailed a partnership in which they would create a summer collection of twelve garments, to be promoted and taken to runways both national and international. They would collaborate on design. Linden would provide materials while Briar provided the labor. That seemed fair enough, but under Section C, it dictated Linden would receive ninety percent of the net profits. Briar supposed the basis for this discrepancy was that runways were expensive to put on, and Linden would be providing the capital for their collection. Aside from that, Linden’s name had the clout Briar’s lacked.
Still. It seemed skewed.
At his elbow, Vatii clucked and tutted. “That’s ridiculous.”
The alcohol left Briar fuzzy headed, and he didn’t have the experience necessary to estimate what their profits could be. The amount listed as Linden’s investment capital was significant, so presumably he expected a return on it. Briar put his head in his hands, the persistent ache returning. Pushing for a greater percentage of the spoils felt greedy, but of the two of them, Briar had the most to lose if this venture failed.
Linden appeared with two wineglasses in hand; Briar accepted his with a smile he hoped masked his nerves. Linden offered a sympathetic nod. “Paperwork is hardly my favorite part either. Is everything in order?”
“It looks great, I was just wondering…” Briar wrestled for the right words. “The profit split seems a bit… skewed.”
Linden’s smile didn’t budge. “How much more would you like?”
Put on the spot, Briar wished he’d had longer to contemplate a figure.
Vatii croaked, “Remember what your mum told you about haggling.”
Figure out what you want, then ask for more, and always know when to walk away.He’d watched his mum stare down a car salesman after listing a litany of reasons his car wasn’t worth the asking price. He tried to be as much her son now as ever.
“I want more. Thirty-five percent.”
Linden’s expression didn’t change. “You’ve seen how much I’m investing.”
“Which means you’re pretty confident in our success.”
“Hm, a third is steep,” said Linden. “Twenty percent.”
“Thirty-three,” said Briar.
“Twenty-five.”
Briar didn’t respond. He thought his heart might cave a hole in his ribs, but he waited in the awkward silence.
Linden unfolded his hands. “I do admire your boldness. Thirty, then.”
A wave of relief and triumph both. “Done!”
Linden snapped his fingers, and the line about profits was erased. It never ceased to boggle Briar’s mind that Linden didn’t have to touch the tithes at his belt to use them. With a pen, he wrote the amended figure and turned the parchment for Briar to sign.
Contract complete, Linden lifted his glass to toast their partnership. They finished their wine, discussing ideas for the collection, but it had gotten quite late.
Linden slid toward the end of the booth. “I’ve had such a good evening, but I’m afraid it’s time I turned in.” With one hand, he reached out andcovered Briar’s on the table. “However, I must tell you how pleased I am we get to work together again.”
His hand lingered a moment longer. Long enough for Briar to recall through the slosh of alcohol what Linden had called this night.
“So… the precursor? How’d I do?”
Linden’s radiant smile snuffed out. “Briar…”
