“Yeah, sure,” Foster replied. “Jimmy meatball is in the back of the terminal acting like the wannabe thug that he thinks he is.” “Jimmy Meatball,” I uttered curious as to why Foster would call him that, but I kind of had a notion already. “Yeah, Jimmy Balenducci is his real name, and he’s from the Hamptons. His old man is a CEO for some software company,” Foster said dismissively. “But, Jimmy, likes to act like he’s from the mean streets, wrong side of the tracks, that sort of thing. He thinks he’s an original gangster like Scarface or Capone and not the spoiled rich kid of some hoity-toity big wig.” “Yeah, well, he’s the only one who’s got a connection to getting decent product in this area, so we’re kind of forced to bend to his whim,” Anna said chiming in her opinion.
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“There needs to be competition because this clown thinks he’s the kingpin around here. He’s got everyone by the short hairs and has been price gouging all of us for far too long.” “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that tonight,” contested Anna, “So, we might as well just suck it up and go deal with the Devil.” “Yeah, alright, Anna,” Foster accepted. “Just don’t let that jerk take advantage of you. His day will come.” “I’ll try,” Anna agreed. “We’ll see you in a bit, okay
“There needs to be competition because this clown thinks he’s the kingpin around here. He’s got everyone by the short hairs and has been price gouging all of us for far too long.” “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that tonight,” contested Anna, “So, we might as well just suck it up and go deal with the Devil.” “Yeah, alright, Anna,” Foster accepted. “Just don’t let that jerk take advantage of you. His day will come.” “I’ll try,” Anna agreed. “We’ll see you in a bit, okay