Page 22 of Business vs. Pleasure

“No, you are, but⁠—”

“Rude.”

“How the hell do our ratings drop like that? Especially when we’ve been inactive for so long?”

“Hell if I know.” August returned to bed and dropped onto the mattress beside Ricardo with a huff. “My rating has dropped to 4.05.”

Ricardo straightened. “I’m only .15 above you now?”

August narrowed his eyes. “Is that really your biggest concern? That I’m almost caught up to you?”

“You’re not almost caught up to me. I’ve been dragged down almost to your level.”

“Fuck you.”

Ricardo chuckled, but it was half-hearted. Yeah, the rating thing annoyed him and it enflamed his competitive side, but something about it also didn’t sit right. Why were he and August suddenly sliding downward when they hadn’t taken a job in ages?

“You know what the worst part is?” August asked. Ricardo shot him a look. August gestured with his phone. “NightPigeon is catching up. To both of us.”

“Oh, fuck that…” Ricardo muttered, and faced his phone again. He went to the leaderboard that he and August had dominated for ages, and he zeroed in on the guy in third place. NightRaven.

Relatively new to the scene—his profile was only eighteen months old. He’d been prolific during that time, too, racking up almost eighty hits with a rating of 3.98.

Ricardo whistled. “Someone’s been busy.”

“Uh-huh. And I want to know why we’re suddenly sliding downward while he’s…” August waved his hand, nearly smacking Ricardo’s face in the process. “Ugh. The audacity. Let’s kill him.”

A laugh burst out of Ricardo. “August. We’re not going to kill someone just because he’s climbing the list.”

“Why not? That’s what Victor was going to do to us.”

“Mmhmm. And do you want to be like Victor?”

August pursed his lips. “I mean, he did have a pretty sick fortress in that vineyard…”

Ricardo rolled his eyes. “A fortress you could build with change you found in the couch on a vineyard your sister probably already owns.”

“What about the army of goons? We could totally have an army of⁠—”

“No. You’re lucky I’m willing to work with you.” Ricardo shook his head emphatically. “No fucking goons.”

“Ugh. You take the fun out of everything. Jesus.” August again got up out of bed. “No army of goons. No six-foot anus painting in the living room. No hounds so I can yell ‘release the hounds!’ like Mr. Burns.” He threw up his hands as he stalked toward the bathroom. “It’s like you want me to be miserable, Ricardo.”

The slamming bathroom door punctuated that.

Ricardo snorted. Yeah, he really was the worst husband ever. Especially for vetoing that damn painting. He thought he was quite reasonable, compromising on the three-foot version so at least it didn’t look like the Asshole of Sauron looming over their living room, but August disagreed.

While August showered, Ricardo pulled up NightRaven’s profile and looked at his reviews. They were, to say the least, a mixed bag.

“Incredible precision. And the knife through the pillow the night before as a warning was—chef’s kiss. 5 stars, would absolutely hire again.”

“I kind of feel like a ‘trained marksman’ would be able to take someone in like one or two shots? Two full magazines’ worth of bullets were found at the scene, only four of which had gone through the body, and two of those were non-lethal. Got the job done, but price was a bit steep for amateur hour. 2.5/5 stars”

“Completely mimicked a local serial killer’s MO, right down to the lace panties shoved into the nostrils and the gummi bear in the belly button. Great for covering up the trail but kind of made the serial killer investigators’ jobs harder, so… 3.5 stars.”

Ricardo frowned. How did someone with such mixed reviews manage to catch up with him and August? Especially so quickly?

And, he wondered yet again, how the fuck had their ratings come down while they’d been inactive?