"I just don't want to see my favourite nephew hurt. These guys mean business."
Bill stared at Fred's face.
"What's wrong?"
Bill grunted.
"I don't see no marks on your face from where Tiny hit you."
Fred thought for a moment and quickly put his hand back to his face.
"That is Tiny's trademark. He never leaves a mark."
The Boss grabbed Bill's arm.
"Yea. Like Freddy said. You can e-transfer the money."
"I'm not set up to do e-transfer," Bill informed them.
"My lawyer looks after all that."
The Boss shook him again.
"Again with the fucking shaking," Bill cracked.
"You trying to make me fart again?"
"No Boss," Tiny protested.
"Don't make him fart again."
"Okay," the Boss yelled, again adjusting his tie.
"So where is this lawyer? Where can we find him?"
"She," Bill emphasized, is probably at home, enjoying a scotch.
"Then phone her."
Bill shrugged.
"I don't have my cellphone."
The Boss pulled a red cellphone from his pants pocket.
"You can use mine."
Bill shook his head.
"I don't know her cell number."
"Isn't Matty your lawyer?" Fred asked.
Bill turned.
"Again, Fred, whose fucking side are you on?"
He started moaning again, holding his jaw.
"I don't want to see you suffer like I am suffering."
"Where does this lawyer live?" the Boss demanded.
"I don't know."
"You don't know where your lawyer lives?"
"Do you know where yours lives?" Bill asked the Boss.
"Now that I think of it ...."
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
Fred gets plugged
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