“I’ve been doing some scouting,” Anthony says while righting himself again. “I want to make sure we’re up on the latest, you know? And I’ve landed the mother-load, Pops, hoo-whee! There’s a shipment coming in from the Bronx, and I’ve got the 411.”
I frown because leave it to Anthony to completely misinterpret our business.
“You know we don’t source locally,” I growl. “We get our shipments from abroad.”
My son stands up and strolls around the dining room a bit, still stretching. “Yeah, but the business needs an injection of “new” and “fresh,” get it? Trust me, it’ll be worth it, Pops. I have good intel that this is a particularly valuable shipment.”
I squint at him.
“But it’slocal, Anthony. We don’t do local, no matter how high-quality the product.”
Anthony winks at me. The boy literally winks.
“Yeah, but this is next level, I swear. Have I ever let you down, Pops? Just give it a try.”
I stare at him, trying to keep my temper in check.
“Other families source locally because they don’t have the right connections overseas. But we’re different. Our specialty is exotic imports, and that’s why clients seek us out.”
Anthony merely yawns again, running a hand through his goopy hair. His palm is covered with slime afterwards, and unembarrassed, he reaches for a napkin to wipe it down.
“Yeah, but everyone has to adapt, Pops. Don’t you get it? It’s a new world out there. People want new, new, new, fresh, fresh, fresh, and doing things the old way is going to destroy our business. Don’t you know that people want to shop local now?”
I roll my eyes.
“We’re in the business of trafficking women,” I say in a dry voice. “I don’t think ‘shopping local’ was intended to describe our particular industry.”
Anthony shrugs.
“Maybe, maybe not. But just give it a try, Pops. Take a look at least. Why not? You have nothing to lose.”
I stare at him.
“You’ve come to me with an idea that doesn’t fit with our business plan, much less what our clients expect. Top-tier exotic imports are what our customers want. Girls from Moldova, Belarus, and Morocco. Girls from Egypt, Israel, and even Spain. It’s what the Genoveses are known for, and we’re not sourcing anything locally, and especially not if you’re picking up product from the Bronx. Are you fucking kidding me? That’s about as far from ‘exotic’ as you can get.”
But my son’s not dissuaded and merely yawns.
“You’re such a snob, Pops, and you’d be surprised at what can come from the most unexpected of places.” In a smarmy voice, he adds, “This shipment is particularly tantalizing. Just you wait.”
I stare at him.
“Again, I don’t want it.”
He shrugs.
“Just take a look. It’s only one girl.”
I stare at him.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve gone to all this trouble to hype upone girl?”
He shrugs and then winks. He literally winks.
“Yeah, because she’s that good. Listen, I’ll bring her over tomorrow night, okay? If you’re still singing the same tune, then I’ll eat my words. But I have a feeling you’ll be changing your mind the second you see this particularchica.”
I stare at him.
“We’ve had supermodels come through our channels. I’m not going to be impressed.”