Bonner resorts to three rules of engagement

Bonner had insisted on sitting at the other end of the long dining table even though the distance was absurd for a personal conversation. This, he knew, wasn’t a conversation -- it was a negotiation. He hadn’t gotten to where he was without becoming very, very good at negotiations

Congressman Falco was sweating and waiting nervously for Bonner to start asking questions, but Bonner only picked up the glass of whiskey in front of him and swirled it around slowly, letting the amber alcohol splash against the ice, keeping his eyes steadily on Falco, and saying nothing.

Charlie Bonner’s First Rule of Negotiation: The other guy should always be a little confused.

Falco’s mouth twitched. “Well,” he said finally, “you probably want to know what was so urgent.” Charlie nodded, keeping the whiskey moving over the ice, not saying a word. The congressman nodded too, squaring his shoulders to show he was getting to business.

“Listen,” he said, “I think my wife is in danger.”

“Why’d you have to ruin a perfectly beautiful stripper by treating her like a real woman?” Bonner asked.

Charlie Bonner’s Second Rule of Negotiation: If the other guy starts lying to you, change the subject. Don’t let him think for a moment that he’s in control.

“What?” said Falco, pushing his own glass away from him. “You heard what I said, right? I wouldn’t have called you to my house if it wasn’t urgent. My wife is in danger.”

Bonner took a long, slow sip. He let it rest against his tongue before swallowing, then sighed appreciatively.

“This is really good stuff,” he said. “Falco, do you know the difference between a stripper and a wife?”

The congressman felt the first drop of sweat fall from his forehead and land painfully in his eye. He blinked reflexively, trying to keep himself from doing so, from appearing weak.

“Do I know the difference between . . . ,” he said, trailing off.

“Between a stripper and a wife,” said Bonner. “You see, you talk to your wife, but you don’t sleep with her. And you sleep with a stripper, but, Falco, you do not talk to her. You do not ever talk to a stripper. Ever.”

Falco broke. He stood up and his face took on a furious flush.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” he shouted.

Bonner’s smile disappeared, and his voice when he spoke was heavy and cold. This had been a bad day, but he was still the same man he’d been when he got up this morning, and he was still in control.

“Sit down,” he said quietly. Falco did. Bonner leaned back in his chair until its front legs lifted off the hardwood.

“Your wife is not in danger,” he said. “You are not being followed, and you have been lying to me for days. Possibly longer.”

His left hand dropped beneath the table. “Falco, you made a mistake. You called me after I should have already been on my plane. You knew I should have been on my plane. But you weren’t even a little surprised when I picked up, because you knew I wasn’t going to be able to get on it.”

Falco opened his mouth to speak. “Shut up,” said Bonner. “You’ll speak only when I tell you to speak, because I have a gun under this table and I am just looking for an excuse to shoot you.”

Charlie Bonner’s Third Rule of Negotiation: When all else fails, point a gun at the other guy.

Joseph Fink is a 21-year-old recent college graduate who writes for a comedy website and is looking for work in which people will “hand me money in exchange for writing.” This is his second win in the “Birds of Paradise” contest.