Poor Rodney, Frank thinks now. That was a truly funny man.

“Hey, Vince,” Frank says, “This thing with Mouse Ju-with Pete’s kid.”

“J.,” Mouse Junior prompts.

Vince’s voice sounds pissed off. “What is it? Mousedick Junior been whining to you?”

“He reached out.”

Frank chooses these words deliberately, because they have a very specific meaning: I’m involved now. You’re dealing with me.

Vince hears it. “I didn’t know you was in the DVD business, Frank. If I did, I’d’ve come to you in the first place. No disrespect, huh?”

“I’m not in the business, Vince. It’s just that, well, the boss’s kid reaches out to me, what am I going to do?”

“The boss?” Vince laughs, then sings, ‘“Who’s the leader of the club that’s made for you and me? M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E.’”

“Anyway,” Frank says. “I’m going to come along for the sit-down, you don’t mind.”

Or even if you do.

“These kids,” Frank continues, “they don’t know what’s right”-he casts a pointed glance at the two doofs sitting across from him, who look down at the floor-“but you and me, I’m sure we can get it straightened out.”

He’s sure they can. What he’ll do is, he’ll take ten K of the fifty along as a gesture, then negotiate Vince down to fifteen points on the rest of the deal. That’s a fair offer, one that Vince should accept. If not, Mouse Senior is in a position to bitch to Detroit about Vena, get him in line. If none of that works…

Frank doesn’t want to even think about that.

It’ll work.

“Hey, whatever’s right, Frankie,” Vince is saying.

Which means he’s going to be reasonable, Frank thinks. He says, “See you in a little bit, Vince.”

“Give it a half hour,” Vince says. “Me and this chick are making some waves, you know what I mean.”