Mike
This prick knew what these guns would cost. He's trying to shortchange me. I narrow my eyes to slits. "We agreed on fifty thousand dollars, George."
"I know Mike, I just...I don't have that kind of cash on me right now," George whines, his hand twitches.
"Fine," I say, circling a finger in the air. "Wrap it up, boys. If he ain't payin', we ain't dealin'."
Squirrelly and Paul begin to wrap the guns back up in the cloths we transported them in. "Wait!" George shouts. "Can't we work something out?"
I place hands on my hips. "Like what?"
"I really need these guns, man. Can't we do like fifty-fifty?" he pleads, stepping closer.
Pursing my lips, I think about this. "Very well...Tick," I call. "Come on over." Tick runs up to me, and I give him the look that he knows well. In a blink,
