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“Most of their stuff is still street robberies and bootlegging CDs and DVDs, which are dying products.”
“You should meet Tran. He’s smart, he’s got vision—”
“One thing at a time, Manny. You want me to talk to JD or not?”
“Fine. Yeah. Talk to JD. You wanna have a drink?”
“I have a guest.”
“Oh, you got pussy to pound.”
I do, but that’s none of Manny’s business.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve talked to JD,” I tell him. “After he’s back from Thailand.”
“I heard you and he took some college girls to Andrea’s wedding.”
“Who told you?”
“Your ex. She said you guys were slumming it.”
“She’s just jealous.”
“Yeah, women get like that.”
Like Manny, given his limited experience with the opposite sex, knows what he’s talking about. That kind of stuff bugs the shit out of JD.
“They’re so emotional,” Manny continues. “It’s not worth taking that crap just for pussy.”
I think about all that I’ve put up with from Bridget. I should be agreeing with Manny, but I don’t. “Maybe you need to upgrade the pussy you’re getting,” I suggest.
Done with Manny, I turn away and head into my office, where I find Marshall and Cheryl chowing down on fried chicken.
Bridget hands me a bag of chicken. “I fried them right before you picked me up.”
“This is amazing,” Cheryl says with her mouth half full.
“It’s good, boss,” seconds Marshall.
I’m not hungry, but I pull out a drumstick and take a bite. It is good.
“Your father would’ve loved these,” Marshall says to me.
“Your dad a fan of fried chicken?” Bridget asks me.
“Mr. Lee used to send me down to the Church’s on Telegraph Ave. all the time to get a bucket for him.”
“You ever been to Maybelle’s?”
“Hell yeah. That’s the perfect meal: her fried chicken and a slice of sweet potato pie.”
“You’re not having any?” I ask Bridget.
“I had my fill.”
“Right. When you were with Felipe.” Cheryl hands me a napkin after I lick my fingers clean. I turn to Bridget. “Let’s go. You can leave your backpack here in the office.”
“You sure you don’t want more chicken?”
