Meetings! And bad language!
Bad Jack was worried enough to call in his two top cronies for a late-night meeting. Hell, he was worried enough to pass around some cigars from his private stock. This was no time to get his people’s noses out of shape.
Gumball Goro was his fixer in the old days; lately he tried to dress like a Kentucky Free State lawyer. He was doing better at it than Bad Jack thought he would, but there’s only so much seersucker can do. But he knew his cigars. “These Cubans, boss?” he said, before lighting one up.
“Yeah,” said Bad Jack. “The knife-ears are exporting ‘em now. Excuse me: the elves.” He shook his head. “They charge enough for ‘em.”
His other crony was Just Jimmy; maybe not the smartest guy in the world, but he was big, he did what he was told, and he knew how to make people do what they were told. It was like a gift with him. Bad Jack had Just Jimmy in charge of keeping the workers quiet, and so far it was working out fine.
But Just Jimmy wasn’t looking that happy. “Respect, boss, but I don’t wanna talk about cigars. I want to talk about this asshole the Hershey fuckers sent here. I don’t trust him.”