Entrepreneurs
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"So," Albert says, tapping his fingers against his hip as he waits for Quinn's fishers to come back in to dock, "drugs and booze."
"Yeah?" Howard answers, also waiting for someone at the dock, waiting for one of the druggies to come and give him a nice revolver and a tin of rutabaga in exchange for a baggie of cocaine. "You buying?"
Albert snorts a little, his face remaining impassive. "Me? No. Wouldn't touch the stuff."
"Me neither. Best to offload for a profit, am I right? Guess we got that in common, Alberto CEO."
"We don't have all that much in common, Howard."
Howard shrugs. "The only difference between what you do and what I do is that fish and cabbage has a better ring to it than coke and pot. And that you get to be a big man over it. Bet that feels good."
Albert lets himself have a little bit of a smile, still staring out to sea. "I'm not making a black market, Howard. I get people what they need."
"No kidding," Howard mutters. "Weren't for you we'd all be starved ages ago. But don't be thinking I don't get people what they need. Ever ask a cokehead how much they need a fix?"
"Howard, don't pretend you're selling drugs out of the kindness of your heart."
"Yeah? Well, are you selling fish out of the kindness of your heart, or because you want to be important? Me, I do it to stay afloat, but that really isn't your style, Albert. I think you like being the mover and shaker."
Albert has no response to that.
Howard sighs. "Hey, whatever, man. Like I said, weren't for you we'd have starved."
Albert nods. "And if it weren't for you we'd have lost a lot more kids on Sherman."
Howard laughs, a surprised laugh instead of the usual mean laugh. "I'll take that compliment, Moneybags." Praise is, after all, an even rarer commodity than unspoiled milk or candy bars in the FAYZ. "Yeah, I'll take that compliment."