Bad language and contested corporate visions!
“No shit, Jack,” said Jimmy. “But since when do we trust anybody?”
“I trusted you. And Gumball. He on this too, or is he next on the list?”
“Gumball’s nobody to worry about,” Jimmy scoffed. “He’ll play ball, or he’ll lose his. You see, that’s your problem, man. You got soft…”
“Here we go,” muttered Jack, as he settled in for his one chance to go out in a blaze of glory. Jimmy ignored him, or maybe didn’t even hear.
“…and you got fat and happy. We could have taken all of eastern Ohio by now! I thought it was the plan! Not having the Consortium muscle in on the best pickings, and take it out of our mouths! What did we get out of it?”
Jack looked around at his nice office, with plenty of furniture, big windows overlooking the valley, and even those god-damned ferns. “I dunno, Jimmy,” he said. “The usual? Money, power, and respect?”
“Fuck you, Jack. I want more.”
“More, huh?” Bad Jack said, honestly surprised. “Then why the hell didn’t you just try to get your own, whaddya call ‘em, franchises? Didn’t you read the damn weeklies? They’re practically begging for people to head up their own crews.”
That floored Jimmy, for some reason. He spluttered — really! — and finally said, “Do you have any idea how fucked up that Consortium crap sounds, coming out of your mouth like that?”
Should “Jimmy looked around” be “Jack looked around”?
Yup! Fixed.