chapter*Dad
textscThis is how we work. This is how we work. We’ve got an office set up in Jacobi’s condo. Guys I work with—this is guys from a company we sell to—actually call Jacobi a jackass. “The guy is a jackass.” That’s the Colonel—exact words. He’s our contact with the TSA and he describes our point of contact—my coworker—as a jackass. Fuck. Fuck. You get these aging queens—this guy is forty-eight, gay (except he doesn’t know it)—bitter as all hell, still married, wife hates him, she has affairs, he brags constantly about some little waitress he fucked last night but the catch is:
I know these bars.
You don’t fuck a waitress in Westlake without Pila, or Tara (and by extension me) knowing about it.
So I get these calls in the middle of the night—this jackass calls me on my cell phone—and he’s telling me about where he’s been and how he can’t go home now and will I come meet him up in Westlake so he can sober up, if he goes home now Shonda will know he’s drunk etcetera etcetera etcetera etcetera. Fuck. I don’t care if you’re gay but don’t be bragging all the time about all the pussy you’re getting. Just gender-switch the pronouns and have an honest conversation. I don’t really care which little busboy you’re sucking off I just wish you’d show up to meetings on time.