"Look I'm just saying, a razor blade would
have been ideal man, that's all."
I continued breaking down and dividing
up the cocaine. I was using one of
my credit cards. Well, it's not really a
credit card, it's a charge card, technically...
George interrupted my thoughts... He
said, "Well, your doing pretty good
over there without one, so stop
complaining. I use an electric razor, so
sue me!" He started tapping on the
Kitchen table as I worked.
I grinned like the cat that caught the
mouse and said "The American Express
Card. Don't leave home without it!" We
both got a good laugh out of that one.
I was nearly done setting up the lines on
the mirror.
"Looks like it's just me and you." George
motioned over to the small living room
area. My partners were out cold. Leon
was on the couch with a pillow over
his bald head and Preston was in the
recliner. Drool was dripping down from his
mouth as he started to snore. I looked up
at the clock it was nearly 3am, the
true "Witching Hour" don't buy into that
Hollywood...
"Hey you done over there or what?
Damn!" George was getting impatient. I
could see he was Jones'n for the blow.
Like Pavlov's dogs, his teeth were grinding
already out of old habit.
"Yeah" I replied. "I suppose you don't
have any straws either." I pushed the
mirror over to his side of the table and
started rolling up a US dollar bill from my
wallet. I didn't convert it with the rest of
my cash. Now unlike my fellows, I had
family back in the US.
Something to return to anyhow... I guess
that dollar reminded me of home. I
handed George the George and he
snorted up a line into each of his nostrils.
Tapping the end of the make-shift straw
on each occasion to get the residual.
"God damn... that's what I'm talkin'
about!" he exclaimed. I pulled the mirror
back over to myself and tightened up the
bill. "Take it easy there now, this shit
ain't all stepped on like your used too!" I
felt his concern was probably for
more of the Coke then actually for me.
Typical George, this one time in Bogota...
"When the hell are they gonna call us,
waiting here all night ain't payin' the bills
man!" George proclaimed in his infinite
wisdom. I did the next two lines and slid
the mirror back to him. Damn... it was
good shit... Man, you could just tell.
I answered him, "She said it would be
late... her contact never gets to the club
before one. This is Amsterdam George,
not the States." By the time I finished my
retort he had finished another couple of
lines and was beginning to become his
usual self.
I was glad this was going to be my last
job. These guys were great and all but
hell I just wanted to get back to my wife
and my kid. This was my last job with
the old gang and we wouldn't be making
any new friends either. I was getting far
to old for...
Suddenly, the phone rang and George
jumped to his feet and grabbed it on the
first ring.
Leon also jumped up alarmed with his
Glock in hand. Preston was still snoring
that guy could sleep through anything.
Like this one time when we were...
"Yeah, hold on he's right here..." George
said, handing me the phone. It was our
resident "Femme Fatal" Missy. She said I
owed her big time for this one. She sucked
off two others in the Mens room to meet
him and then... well you get the picture.
But hell, She made contact with our mark,
she always did and arranged a play date
tomorrow night in a little out of the way
Hotel where we'll be lying in wait.
Our client had sent in two international
teams before us. Each group had been
slaughtered...
They made mistakes.... we won't. The
way he talked about this assignement,
you'd think the guy was really immortal or
something...