“So, you are mad.”

“Honestly? Little bit.”

His truth is disarming. Or his lie is unexpected. Either way, disarmed is where he wants me.

“You gonna tell me what you want? Or are you just here to chat because you miss your family, and these fuckers are crazy?”

He sighs like a man explaining the meaning of idiocy to an idiot. “Depends on the context.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Do I want to hear another long explanation? Sure. It’ll give me time to think.

“The Colonia don’t do nothing that some other bunch of fuckers, somewhere else in the world, is also doing.” He counts off on his fingers. “Trafficking. Forced marriage. Dowries. But the other fuckers aren’t in the middle of Manhattan. That’s the context.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Don’t it? Let me tell you, there’s some version of this shit going on all the time in all five boroughs and everything to the left of it. You just don’t see it. Or you think meh, just the world. And why? Because you benefit by shit not really changing, am I right? You don’t even see how you benefit ‘cos it’s just some, like, foggy notion you can’t claw your way through and why bother? You’re just living in a context like everyone else. It’s cool. Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just saying, my eyes are open. I see it and yeah, sure, I can use it to my benefit just like everyone else, but also, to my advantage, which is a bigger deal. All I gotta do is move my headspace, like, three degrees that way.”

He waits for my reaction, but I don’t have one, except that he’s a psychopath.

“Great story.”

“Ain’t it? So, in that context, I wanted to ask you something. Your opinion or whatever.” He reaches into his pocket and takes out two untied satin bow ties. “You were a pretty stylin’ guy on the outside and it’s like…” He checks his watch. “Yeah, wow, ticktock… I gotta get dressed and I can’t decide… do I go classic black, which always works, or like, since it’ll be the ass crack of dawn, do the white? I know it’s white with a tux before noon, but it’s after Labor Day. And I figure if I wear the black, who’s gonna notice and say, ‘Oh that should be white,’ ‘cos you know these people aren’t the most sophisticated bunch of fucking wackos you ever met, am I right?”

He didn’t come down here for this trash conversation. I need to derail him.

“You should go home to your family, Sergio. Just accept what they give you. Be a soldier or consigliore. Don’t fight so hard to be in charge. Being in charge sucks.”

He laughs politely, looking down at his fashion choices.