The Last Laugh

Part 3

Paul didn't show up the next day, instead his three– now traumatized buddies, showed up to make the deal. It was simple, just hand over the coke and take the cash. Done deal. The first one, and only one, to speak was named Jack, he was the shortest of the group and seemed to have that kind of Chihuahua effect. (I may be tiny but I'm mighty bullshit). Jack was the one who handed over the cocaine, but asked Miles if he could see the money first.

"You don't trust me?" Miles joked, his eyebrows cocked as he spoke, his duffel secured safely behind the desk as he eyed the short man in front of him.

"Hard to trust you with what you've done to my friend." Jack replied, with that chihuahua effect again. Trying to be all high and mighty.

"If you don't hand it over right now, I'll do the same to you." Miles was starting to loose his patience, hadn't they seen enough to want to go through this smoothly?Sure enough Jack shut up and kicked his two duffel bags over to Miles, his two other friends doing the same. "Alright, check them." Mark did as told and opened each of the duffel bags, counting thirty bricks in total.

"Looks good." Mark chimed in as he finished counting, returning next to Miles' side.

"Alright then, you all get a pass today. Consider yourselves lucky." Miles bent down behind the desk, his gun flashing as he picked up his own duffel bag.

"All the cash is in there, now get the fuck out." Miles tossed the bag at the short one and shooed his hands, watching as the three men scrambled out of the small office. So much for making them test the product, Miles just wanted the deal to finally be over with.

"What fucking twats." Miles groaned, running his hands through his hair.

"Right, let's go drop these off, Mark you drive." Mark nodded and picked up two duffel bags, Ron and Miles doing the same as they walked to the back of the car wash where their car sat, the trunk pointed to the back door. Mark swiftly unlocked the car and popped the trunk, allowing everyone to pile in the bags. Once they'd finished Mark shut the trunk and locked it– now if you get caught with a singular gram of cocaine on you, you'll get two+ years of prison. But, if you lock wherever you're storing said drugs, whether it's your glovebox or trunk, nobody can search or seize your vehicle without a warrant. (Unless they have any reason to, such as drug dogs sniffing around). So the less than 15 minute drive across town was always a stressful one, but of course needed to be done. Although Miles was powerful, if he was caught they could fully press charges and lock him up for a long time, without bail. Fucking pigs.
Mark started up the car and began the drive, feeling like he was hitting every single red light on the way. Miles and Ron both scanned the streets as he drove, keeping an eye out on any cars that could be or were cops. Mark drove exactly the speed limit the whole way there, being careful to not fly through any yellow lights.

They finally arrived, pulling their car into one of the bays inside the storage unit. Miles opened up the passenger door and pulled himself out of the car.

"Alright, let's make this quick I don't want to be hanging out here all day." Miles left Mark and Ron to grab the bags as he made his way down to storage unit '505'. Miles rummaged around in his pockets until he found his keys, swiftly unlocking the unit, pulling the shutter up to expose an empty room with a rug laid down, pulled back a little to show a cut out in the floor. Miles pulled up the cut out, showing a ladder followed down into a basement, you could hear people chattering below. Miles helped Ron toss the bags down the shaft, once they finished Miles climbed down the ladder first.
The basement was a simple concrete finish, the ceilings lined with fluorescents as well as some video cameras posted on each wall. A boombox sat in the corner, old crooner songs spilling from the speakers. Two long plastic tables sat out under the lights, five workers surrounding them. They all were clad in masks and hairnets. A short guy, resembling Mark sat in the back corner on a stool, observing the workers– making sure nobody was stealing. Miles greeted everyone with a smile, presenting the duffel bags to the worker closest to the ladder. "I've got 30 here for you, please make sure to have at least half of this done tonight." The guy nodded, opening up one of the bags to reveal the almost sparkling white, vacuum sealed rectangles stacked neatly. There's been a few mishaps with some of the past workers, but Miles took care of them. This crew has been pretty trustworthy. Pay them well enough and they won't feel the need to steal, at least that's the idea. The guy on the stool got up and walked over to Miles, greeting him with arms open. This was Mark's brother, Jamie. He worked well as a security guard but wasn't built for the business aspect. You could tell his was rather jealous of Mark.

"Miles!" Jamie yelled, pulling him in for a hug, quickly moving over to Mark to give him a hug as well. "Hope y'all are doing well."
Mark pulled away, heading back towards the ladder. "Well we shouldn't be staying long. Come visit us at the casino Jamie and we'll put you up in the best room."

Jamie put his hands on his hips. "I'll be taking that offer up for sure, I'm tired of being cooped up in this basement 8 hours a day." Miles patted Jamie on the back before turning to the ladder.

"See you soon then." Miles climbed on up, Ron and Mark following.

"Glad I don't have that job." Mark mumbled, covering the floor back up as Miles and Ron made their way back to the car.