“What the hell, Tommy?” Jojo said to his brother.
Jojo was the only person who still called him Tommy. To everyone else, he was Don Bozo. First name Don. Last name Bozo. If anyone called him Tommy Bozo he took it as a sign of disrespect. But he let his brother slide, because he knew the son of a bitch didn’t respect him anyhow.
“You took the gumball factory from me?” Jojo placed his hands on his brother’s desk and leaned in. “My wallet’s already been hurting since Buttons ran out on us.”
Don Bozo didn’t like when his brother barged into The Show to complain about the way he was running things. It was something he did far too often. Jojo was never satisfied with the job his brother did, even on the best of days.
“I didn’t have a choice,” said Don Bozo. “Manny Malone’s breathing down my neck again. We got to keep things quiet for a while.”
“Do you know how much that’s going to cost me? The gumball factory’s a major source of income for me. It’s the only source of income for a lot of my guys.”
The gumball factory was what they called their black-market gun trade. They manufactured and distributed clown weapons all over the country, from gumball shotguns, to explosive pies, to happy bullets, to pretty much everything that a clown could use to kill someone. It was a major operation that brought in billions a year, and it wasn’t something that you just shut down out of nowhere for no good reason.
“It’s only temporary,” Don Bozo said. He twisted up a balloon dog and let it crawl across his desk toward his brother.
“Temporary? How temporary?”
“A few weeks. Maybe a few months.” The boss shrugged. “Until I say otherwise.”
Jojo banged his fists on his brother’s desk, crushing the balloon dog. “This is really bad timing, Tommy. I got my daughter’s wedding coming up. You know that. And with that girl, trust me, I need all the money I can get right now. She’s absolutely slaughtering my bank account.”
Don Bozo pushed his brother’s hand away from the desk to free the balloon dog before it popped.
“You’re going to have to get by without the gumball factory for now, Jojo. If you need a little extra for Taffy’s wedding I’ll float you the cash.”
“For how many points? I’m second in command here. I shouldn’t have to be taking out a loan to pay for a little wedding.”
Don Bozo just looked up at his brother. He didn’t have to say another word. Jojo knew he wasn’t going to budge.
“This isn’t going to stand, Tommy. If you don’t get the gumball factory up and running again there’s going to be hell to pay.” Jojo went to the door. They stared each other down for a few minutes, but his brother wouldn’t say another word. “Mark my word.”
Jojo walked out the door. Then walked right back in with a completely different tone of voice—a sweeter, more gentle tone. “You’ve got everything sorted for Taffy’s wedding like I asked, right?”
His brother nodded.
“She’s got her heart set on having those circus animals there. You got to come through with that, especially a white pony. She needs a white pony.”
Don Bozo nodded again. “Don’t worry yourself none, Joe. I want my niece’s wedding to be as perfect as you do.”
Jojo hated when his brother called him Joe, even worse than his brother hated being called Tommy.
“Thanks a lot, Tom.”
Then Jojo’s expression changed back to the sour mug it had been a moment ago and he stared down his brother while slowly closing the door.