Chapter 6

On the same day over in New York, BigBad Toys CEO Alfredo Pazzi is meeting with his key executive team which comprises of:

Seb Goldstein, Vice-president of sales and part-time psychopath

Pete Melba, fellow American-Italian, president, worldwide consumer products division and the meanest son-of-a-bitch in the company after Alfredo himself

Adèle Felous, head of International in the consumer products department, a Frenchwoman with a very large ‘pomme frite’ on her shoulder.


Pazzi: ‘ I keep hearing excuses but the line is not selling fast enough. Less then three years we’ve had Blastboys in the market, we should be on the up not giving in to the Japanese again’.

Goldstein: ‘The sales force knows better than to come to me at month end with anything less than twenty per cent up. They’ll call in favours if they want to save their hides’.

Melba: ‘Well you better be right, Seb, because I’d told enough lies this year positioning BlastBoys as still the number one boys license. We’ve got everyone in town in less than ten days for Toy Fair, and Al needs me to come through with some key seven figure renewal deals. Your sales boys let the data slip and our game will be up.’

Goldstein: ‘What you do with you asswipe licensees is no concern of mine! You bullshitted your way into deals, you get to clean up the bullshit later. I made BlastBoys number one and I will keep it that way.’

Melba: ‘And if it wasn’t for the cash I screw out of the licensees you’d have run out of marketing money and excuses a year ago. Face it, Seb, the Japs have got you on the run again and your so-called friends are jumping ship for SS Tokyo.’

Felous: ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s have a little calm, bien? I am confident that Seb’s team will do their job, just as I am confident that Pete and I will deliver the big renewals that we all need. Even if it is, malheureusement, true that the edge has gone off BlastBoys, my European licensees are still as ignorant as pigs of the fact. They will sign, they will pay, because they cannot afford to risk being without this license!’

Pazzi: ‘ Pray that you’re right, Adele, because we’re not just talking jobs and expense accounts here. We don’t bring in the cash and certain individuals on the Board are going to go head-hunting. I will not give them the satisfaction. This is my business and we will succeed. You all have my full authority to do whatever it takes. Now go and get on with it!’.

In an atmosphere of barely-suppressed aggression, the three executives managed to squeeze out of Pazzi’s office without damaging their expensively-tailored suits. Melba and Felous huddled conspiratorially in the corridor outside Pazzi’s private domain while Goldstein hustled of to whip his sales force some more.

‘Adele, you better be right about these guys you’ve got set to renew’ Melba could barely spit out the words.

‘Relax, Peter. I have them biting off my hand, as you would say. And there is something more of which you do not yet know’ purred Adele. She held up a finger to signal to Melba that he should wait, and produced from her Hugo Boss briefcase a letter on old-fashioned looking vellum paper. With a flourish, she read the important section.

‘And so I am very pleased to tell you that the Board has accepted my proposal that BlastBoys is the ideal license for us to base our return to licensed comics after a seven year absence. I can confirm the terms we agreed at our last meeting for pan-European rights and look forward to receiving the contract and minimum guarantee invoice for one million pounds at your earliest convenience.’

The letter was signed by the Head of Publishing for James and James, the old-established English West country newspaper, book, magazine and children’s comic publisher.

‘So what do you think of that, Peter?’, Adele continued to look smugly satisfied.

‘What I think is how the hell did you squeeze a million pounds out of a limey comic book outfit I’ve never heard of? ‘

‘They are ingénues, Peter, positive ingénues, but they are rich and their new Head of Publishing is an over-ambitious ass. Let him spend his bosses’ money with us. They won’t be back for more, it’s true, but there are always more fish in the sea’.

‘He’s coming to Toy Fair?’

‘Alan Greaves, yes, he will be here. We must make sure he is well entertained, n’est-ce pas?’

‘I can still turn on the charm when it’s needed, Adele, as you know clearly enough. Fix up a dinner and show and I’ll get one of the girls from the agency along, see if we can’t make sure that Alan looks forward to a long-term association with BigBad.’ Melba’s mind was already working overtime. Even if the BlastBoys deal was a stitch-up for James and James, he knew he could hook the fish and persuade him in to ‘the next big thing’ two years down the line, especially if Rachel or Carla ( he couldn’t decide which of two high-class hookers he would line up for Greaves ) gave him the special treatment and a clear promise that there was more to come. Yes, he thought, get a few more like this in the can and they could sail through the year .

The two licensing execs parted promising to catch up again later on the complete Toy Fair schedule.

Behind the closed door of Alfredo Pazzi’s office, the CEO placed a call to a private number in Trenton, New Jersey.

‘Speak’ was the terse acknowledgment at the end of the line.

‘I’d like to talk to Mr Spinetti, it’s Pazzi’ Pazzi tried to sound confident, firm, but it was a struggle.

‘I’ll see if the boss wants to talk to you’ said the voice. The line went silent for two or three minutes and then the familiar, menacing tone.

‘Pazzi, Pazzi, to what do I owe the honour of this unexpected disturbance?’ it was Vincent Spinetti, made man and number two in a major cosa nostra family with its seat in Trenton.

‘Vince, I just thought you’d want to know that my team have assured me that the revenues will be on target, if not better for the current quarter. I know you like to be kept informed of our financial progress.’

‘Assurances you can kiss my ass with, Pazzi. Lou will want to see the money, and it’s my job to count it out for him. We’ll be expecting the five mil on time, last day of March. You wanna wrap that with “assurances” that’s OK by me, long as the dollars are in the bag.’ Spinetti sounded his usual mix of weary resignation at having to deal with idiots, and quiet relish as to how he actually would prefer to deal with them, given the green light from Lou Bergamini, the ‘capo’.

‘Vince, it will be there on time. You have my word.’

‘Keep it, just come across. Last time was not so smooth, I don’t wanna see anything like it again, or maybe we’ll be looking for a new patsy to take the place of this ‘Pazzi’ – get it? Hey – will you listen to that, I didn’t realise I was so funny!’. The phone was replaced without another word.

Pazzi stared out of the window like a man condemned. He was pretty certain that March 31 would not be a problem. However, after March 31 there would be June 30, and then September 30, his life measured out in calendar quarters. He wasn’t at all sure he had many quarters left.