Chief put on his best poker face. “Let us pay you for the meal, Aldo. It was very good.” 

“What?” Joe blurted. “We can’t pay for the meal, Chief. We don’t have a dime on us!” 

Chief groaned. How was he ever going to complete this mission with Crusty the Clown tagging along? Aldo looked at Joe, then at Chief. You could have heard a pepperoni drop it was so quiet. Joe and Chief certainly looked like they had money; after all, they were wearing nice suit pants and white dress shirts, so if Aldo thought they were trying to fleece him by claiming to have no money, Chief’s plan would be gutted—not to mention they might end up in a basement somewhere getting beat up by a mafia crime lord.

Then Aldo burst out laughing and slapped the table. “That’s a good one, boys! No money! And you said it with a straight face, too!” He wagged his finger at Chief. “I like that, thinking on your feet, boy. The food is on me, because”— Aldo leaned across the table and dropped his voice—“you’re gonna help me make a lot of money.” 

Aldo laughed loudly. Chief tried to laugh, too, but it came out strangled. He wasn’t sure if Aldo was promising them they were going to make money, or threatening it.

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