Cesare

Harry Walters slaps me on the back, again, to punctuate his last statement. I imagine returning the slap with a punch to his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. I’m not in the mood to listen to Harry’s grating laughter for another fucking sixty seconds. The only reason I took the time to meet with him was to find out if his need to fend off a recent takeover attempt was a one-time thing or if he was still floundering financially. From his inability to lie well, I’m laying money on him losing it all within the next ninety days. This was a waste of my...