The Last Laugh

Part 2

TW: graphic violence

Miles, Ron, and Mark all sat parked at the car wash, waiting and watching for Paul to finally arrive. Mark had gotten a tip that Paul was planning on holding, the plan was show up ready to do the deal then gang up on Ron and Mark, taking the cash and the coke all for themselves.

"That's him, stay back. I'll let you know when, or if I need you." Miles opened the car door, shoving his gun into the back of his pants before pulling his sweater over top to conceal it. He walked to the entrance to the wash, dressed in a pair of black pleated dress pants, his typical white all-leather loafers, a grey chunky knit sweater, and a pair of thick rimmed sunglasses.

"Miles!" Paul smiled, seeming a little standoff-ish. "I didn't expect to see you." Miles looked over Paul's shoulder and to the car he had pulled up in to see three rather large men perched in the backseats.

"Right. Let's talk, hm?" Miles ushered Paul inside, leading him into a back room with a few foldable metal chairs and a desk.

"Go ahead and sit down." Paul did as he was told as Miles quickly closed the door behind them, locking it. Miles walked back behind the desk and had a seat, taking off his sunglasses before looking at Paul who was obviously a little concerned and nervous. He was still trying to keep that 'what are you doing here!' kind thing going. Wasn't working well for him.

"I just want you to be honest, and if you're honest with me I met let you just get off with a warning." Paul shifted slightly with Miles' words, trying not to look him in the eyes. He'd been caught.

"Were you going to try and stiff me?" Miles asked, staring directly at Paul, a fire in his eyes.

"I- um.." Paul couldn't quite manage to get any words out.

"It's not really that hard of a question. Look at me. Were you, or were you not going to try and stiff me?" Paul kept his eyes down as Miles stood up and walked over to his side. He still didn't answer. Miles squatted down to get at Paul's eye level– you could see the sweat beads forming along his hairline.

"You going to answer?"

Still no response. Miles grabbed the legs of the chair and yanked, flipping Paul off and onto the ground, his body falling onto the concrete flooring with a smack, the metal chair following with a loud clatter.

"Where's my fucking shipment Paul." Miles stood over top of him, Paul's hands were spread out like he was going to be shot as he finally spoke.

"Look, I didn't know you were going to be here–"
Miles slammed his heel onto one of Paul's hands, a decent crunch following his movement. Paul let out a blood curdling scream, his other hand desperately clawing at Miles' foot to get it off, tears starting to stream down his face.

"So, let me get this right." Miles said, staring down at the writhing mess below him. "You thought that you could steal from me."
Paul squirmed, whimpering something that sounded like 'no no no no'.
"Listen Paul, you fuck with my men, you're fucking with me." Miles twisted his foot, digging his sharp leather heel in deeper as Paul continued to cry out.

"And you obviously don't want to fuck with me."

A few more whimpers from Paul escaped his lips, something along the lines of 'I'm so sorry, oh my god I'm so sorry'.

"Get me my shipment by tomorrow or you're dead." Miles pulled his foot off of Paul's now mangled hand, rubbing his heel along Paul's pant leg to get some of the blood off before unlocking the door, "See you here, same time tomorrow then." Miles said back at Paul, who had since sat up, sobbing as he cradled his disfigured hand in his lap. Miles walked back out to the front of the car wash and put his sunglasses back on. He made his way over to Paul's car, the three men startled to see Miles walking towards them. Miles gestured one of them roll down a window. They complied.

"Might want to go collect your friend, probably will be needing some medical attention." Miles tapped on the top of the car before turning around and heading back to his own car, Mark sitting in the passenger and Ron in the back.

"Well, how'd it go then?" Mark asked as Miles started up the car, watching the three men run inside the building, fear plastered on their faces.
"Well, let's just hope he comes through tomorrow or I've got an unfortunate task for you."