CHAPTER SIX
“Where are we at?” he asked the five women standing around the table.
“We’re moving as quickly as we can without compromising the product,” said one of the women. “We should have a full batch ready for you by tomorrow.”
“Good. That’s good. Then I need you to double production. Hire more people if you have to. I’ve got a lot of interest in this shit,” he smirked.
“You know, Butch, if you weren’t my brother I’d tell you what a piece of garbage you are. But since you are my brother, and you’re making me a rich woman, I won’t say that,” she smirked.
“Back atcha sis,” he smirked. He started to walk away and then turned back to her. “Oh, Helen? Make sure no one is taking samples of this shit home for their boyfriends. And I meant what I said, hire more people if you need to. We need to ramp up production of this.”
“I’ve got it handled, Butch. I handle the business, you handle the clients. Remember?”
“I remember,” he smiled. Leaving the riverside metal warehouse building, he drove back toward the city, happy that Mardi Gras was done.
Leaving Wisconsin was tough. He had a good thing going there until the Henderson pussy wimped out on him. Little fucker didn’t listen to him. He could have been one of the best in the game. Instead, he went crying to mommy and daddy.
He just shook his head, smirking at the thought of the young man probably dead by now. As long as you take the shit, your body won’t break down. These kids didn’t get it.
Pulling into the new gym, he looked up at the sign and smiled.
Where champions are built!
“That’s right,” he muttered to himself. “Not bitches. Champions.”
Today he would be interviewing potential new clients. New Orleans was full of athletic kids whose parents were more than willing to write big checks so their kid could be a superstar one day.
Yes, sir. They were ripe for the picking and he was going to pick winners. He stepped inside the building only to be greeted by hundreds of hopeful, young faces. Turning to the woman taking names and applications, he frowned.
“I said no kids under twelve,” he frowned.
“I know but I think some of these are kids you’re going to want to interview.
There are several junior Olympic track stars, swimming stars, and even a couple of kids that were on the Little League champion baseball team.
” She leaned forward, whispering to him.
“And I’ve vetted them all. Mommy and daddy have a shit ton of money. ”
He nodded, turning to look at the eager faces.
“Okay. Let’s get this started.”
It was non-stop interviewing of kids wanting to be champions, Olympians, all-stars, on and on. Parents with dollar signs in their eyes and a talented kid they were willing to sacrifice for their own dreams.
“Now, you understand that this commitment isn’t something to take lightly,” he said to the single mother.
“If I take on your son, he’s in this gym four, even five or six hours a day.
Before school, after school, weekends, all of it.
There are no part-time jobs, no extracurricular activities. I am his extracurricular activity.”
“I understand,” nodded the woman. “I already work two jobs to make sure he has all the equipment he needs. I’ll work one more if necessary. My boy has talent and I need someone to bring all that out in him.”
Butch nodded looking at the young man. He was just fifteen but he was already an impressive figure. Six-feet-two, nearly two-hundred pounds and clocked at running a four-four, forty. He was going to be golden.
“What about you, Carter? How do you feel about this?” he asked.
“I’m all in, sir. I’m ready to get to the next level and beyond for my mama.”
“Okay, then. Fifty-thousand to start and then we’ll talk about the supplements and other products you’ll need to buy.” Carter’s mother swallowed, her face paling somewhat but she nodded.
“I’ll write the check and leave it with the receptionist.”