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Snippet #1413696

located in Chicago, a part of Jazz Baby, one of the many universes on RPG.




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It was still early in the evening when Andy entered the back room to the Continental. Using the front entrance, he walked through the foyer where the bouncer usually stood and toward the bar. Rico, the bartender, and Fred the busser, were already hard at work stocking the bar for the evening festivities. Saturday nights were always busy.

Without asking, Rico poured a scotch smooth and Andy picked it up as he continued through the front room. Passing tables and ultimately the stage, Andy slipped into the back hallway and to his office. Three men were already waiting there.

"Boys," he said nodding to the two standing men, Slick and Tank. "Mr. Price," Andy said making a tisking sound with his tongue and sitting on his desk facing the man in the chair. "I thought you said we weren't going to have any more problems?" His thick Chicago lilt rolled off his tongue like venom.

"N-No problem, A-Andy." After a sharp slap to the back of the head, the quivering man corrected himself. "I mean Mr. Aurelio."

"Really? So...everything is going according to plan, then?" Price nodded. Andy's face went from amused to stone cold. "Then how come I aint seen a dime of my export fees!" Andy backhanded the man who crumbled in his seat. "I pay good money to ship my merchandise all over the states. Your shipping company is supposed to make sure it arrives on time. It's been three days, Price. And I haven't seen a dime!"

"You have to understand, the Bulls are watching me! They're performing searches and interviewing my dock workers! They know I'm working with you Andy. I have to protect my company."

Andy stood and paced in front of his desk. His eyes met Slick's and he nodded. "Well then, Mr. Price. Seeing as working with you has become a liability...I think it's time we explored other options." Taking two steps to his left, he watched as Slick removed his pistol and shot Price in the head. Without hesitation, Tank grabbed the body and began dragging it out of the room. "Adrian, find me a Mr. Beckett down at Beckett and Mills. Tell him I'm in the market for a new partner. Oh...and set fire to Price Dockworkers."

"Right away Andy," Slick said and moved from the room. Taking a seat at his desk, Andy waited patiently as Fred ran in and began mopping up the mess. He sipped his scotch with a half smile on his face as the music from the main floor began to hum. The band was warming up. Saturday's were always good for business.