"I believe we've already met," the man said, a smug grin beneath feathered hair, parted in the middle.
  Here he was, a man of the 80s. Confident, rich, and waspy. A narrow rectangular knit tie running down to his parachute pants, yellow Swatch watch. And yet, there was something out of time about him. Money flowed out of his pockets and his black Reeboks always seemed to be dancing on an invisible break dance mat.
  Despite the retro couture, Tab had the glib self-assurance of one who knows what comes next.