Chapter Eleven:  I'M IN MIAMI, BITCH.....LMFAO


     "Holy Shit, it's fuckin' hot."

     "That's why they got them fuckin' beaches down here."  Nick scanned the area, looking for a taxi.  Finding one, he flagged the guy down, they climbed inside, tossing the bags into the trunk, and the cab took off, heading towards South Beach.

     As the cab rolled down the main drag, passing one pastel colored hotel after another, Nick and Natch wide eyed, taking it all in.

     "Looks like fruit city down here, what with all the fruity colors and them fuckin' buildings and all."

     "It don't matter, we gonna' meet this guy, grab what we gotta' grab and then we head over to the classy part of this fuckin' town, where our hotel is at."



    The guy they had to meet, to grab what they gotta' grab, was a local semi involved guy, with a fairly good reputation as a guy who can be counted on to do the right things in all respects, especially with respects to knives and pistols and whatnot.  Jackie "The Nose" knows guns, spent a lot of time in the Army, and spent his time now hustling guns to people who may not want to spend some time down at the gun store filling out the fuckin' paperwork for them background checks they got now.

     Jackie "The Nose" spent his days and some of his nights in the lobby of a fairly flea bag hotel, sometimes at the bar, always with the newspaper opened to the racing form.

     Oh yeah, The Nose.  Well the nose was fairly large, Durante type schnozola, with red racing stripes down the nostrils, the effects of maybe one too many Cuba Libres in the afternoons.  But he was known far and wide as the guy to see if you wanted some firepower to toss a few hundred slugs around to settle a long term beef.

     A fairly important guy in the trash business up North knew of Jackie "The Nose", and touted him to Nick and Natch, since carrying heat on an airplane was pretty much frowned on these days.

     They exited the cab, paid the driver, who thought, can't get this schmo's outta' my cab fast enough.  Nick parked the bags in the lobby of the hotel and off they went in search of the guy, Jackie "The Nose", to let them grab what they gotta' grab.

        "No fuckin' wise cracks about his fuckin' nose.  That guy up North told me about his fuckin' nose, so no fuckin' jokes."

     "Well, he should be easy to spot, since.....Fuck!, looka' that nozzle!"

     "Quiet!"

     There, sitting in the lobby of the flea bag hotel, a newspaper folded on his lap, was the big nose, red racing stripes and all, the nose being attached to none other than Jackie "The Nose."

     They approached the nose, then Jackie "The Nose."

     "You Jackie?  Sal, from up North you know Sal, the guy in the trash dodge, Sal?"

     "Follow me."  Jackie "The Nose", stood, smooth out his pants, tosses the paper on the chair and leads Nick and Natch to the elevator.

     "You got what we gotta' get?"  Nick thinking, what a fuckin' nose, you could draw fuckin' countries on that nose, what with all them fuckin' lines..  Nick worked hard to look away, eyes Natch who was locked onto the nose, he stare glued.  Nick kicked Natch in the leg, snapping him out of his amazement.

      "Get in." 

     The doors opened, all three stepped inside, the elevator, old, the door slow, the ride up two floors taking for fuckin' ever.

     They walked down a dimly lit hallway, stopped at room 444, Nick thinking, what the fuck, room 444 but this is the second fuckin' floor.

     Jackie "The Nose" using his key, opened the door and Nick and Natch stepped into an armaments warehouse.

     "Holy shit."

     "Fuck."

     "You wanted nine mils, right?"

     "Yeah."

     "Follow me."  Jackie "The Nose", moved across the room, opened a door where perhaps a bedroom might have been, but is instead a showroom of firepower, pistol section.  Nick thinking, holy shit, and the crap he's got piled up in the other room, fuckin' bazookas, land mines, machine guns, rocket launchers, shit we could really use up North to settle a few beefs and whatnot.  His eyes fell upon the nickel plated pistols, the nine mils.

     "Nice selection."  Natch thinking, shit, he's got more guns than the fuckin' shoe store got fuckin' shoes.
    

     They each picked two, got extra clips, a phone call was made, money was wire transferred and Nick and Natch, fully armed to the teeth and ready for their little adventure, left the hotel, snatching up their bags.



     Bags, guns and Nick and Natch were dropped off in front off a pretty snazzy hotel, the bellboys lugging the suitcases to the front desk, large type tips being bandied about.  They got their room keys, sent the luggage up, tipping again, smiles all about, stopped at the bar, Grey Goose, rocks, lemon wedge, the elevator up to their room.

     Sipping their drinks, the bar tender not too happy they left with the nice bar glassware, but the twenty slapped on the bar calmed down his nerves more than somewhat.

     "Let's figure out what we gotta' figure out so we don't fuck this up."  Nick sat in an easy chair, legs propped up on the big bed.  He gazed at his drink, thinking, nice fuckin' glass, got some heft to it, a guy could get plenty used to this shit.

     Natch had settled down by the window, looking down at the swimming pool, the bikinis at the swimming pool, he turned to Nick.  "There's very fuckable babes down stairs at the pool, why not we take a few hours see if we can hose a few of them?"

     "Later.  We gotta' do this job, clip that prick, then we got time for whatever else we wanna' do, Joseph says take a few days off."  Nice sip of the ice cold Vodka sliding down his throat, Nick smiled, watching Natch return to looking down at the fabulous bikini's and the babes filling them out so nicely.

      "Lemme' tell ya something, Nick, they got babes up the ying yang down there at the fuckin' pool.  Natch sipped his drink, the Vodka, cold and nice, sliding across his tongue.

     "Drink up, we gotta' ride."

      Natch turned, Nick stood, gulped down his drink, snatched up the room keys and headed out of the room, walking towards the elevator.  They arrive, push the fuckin button, wait, and a honey of a girl arrives with a runt of a dog in her arms.

     Did I mention she was stunning, slinky dress, deep dark blue eyes, pouty lips, red fuckin' lipstick, and wooza a set of knockers to knock your socks off?

      "Hey, what's that, some kinda' fuckin' rat?"

     "You two clowns just sneak across the border?"  She turned away form them, ignoring them both.  A deep, I am offended sigh.

      "My friend is sorry."

     "He is sorry.  Now, why don't you two, ahem, gentlemen, go back to whatever you were doing, pounding each other I assume, and leave me alone."

      "Nice fuckin' mouth you got on ya, babe."  Natch, smiling.

     "Drop dead.  Tell your moms, if you in fact have moms, not to send you out to play with the adults anymore."  She turned away and walked back towards her hotel room, the dog over her shoulder, snarling at Nick and Natch.

     "Hey lady, maybe you wanna' I throw that fuckin' mutt out the window?"

     She enters her room, the door slams shut.

     "What gives with her?"  Natch turns facing Nick as the elevator arrives.

     "She's prolly one a them dildo swinging dike bitches."

     "Well, I got a real life fuckin' dildo for her."

     Two well dressed businessmen in the elevator were somewhat aghast at the language of the two "gents" entering.  The door closed, the two businessmen move two steps away form Nick and Natch.

     "Nice fuckin' day."  Natch nods to one of the men.

     "You fellas guests here?"

     "What's with you, you some kinda' jerkoff?  Off course we are guests, we paid out fuckin' money and yeah, ass wipe, we are guests.

     "Probably not a good fuckin' idea to steam up my friend here.  Maybe you two douche bags shut up and get off the fuckin' elevator art the next fuckin' floor."  Nick punches the button for the next floor, the elevator stops, the two businessmen get off, six, not the lobby, not anywhere near the fuckin' lobby, but off they get.  The doors close.

     "What the fuck kinda' town is this?"  Nick thinking, when we do this job, when it's fuckin' over, we head back to the hotel and that pool.  Maybe we find that bitch with the pet rat.

  

    They climb into a cab, both sliding into the air conditioning.

     "Some fuckin' town you fuckin' got here."

     "Excuse me sir?"  The driver, not 100 percent sure of his two passengers, and the thought occurred to him, shit maybe I don't get paid, these guys gamooks, don't look too solid.

      "It's like they got some fuckin' attitude, what with the snappy answers and shit."

      "Not sure what you mean, sirs."  Are we there yet?

      "No fuckin problem, just fuckin' drive."  Natch looking out the window as they hit the very nice area, big houses, large slices of property, swimming pools, gleaming luxury cars scattered about.

      "This is the block sirs."  Please, I'll slow down, you can jump out, don't worry about paying me, just get the hell outta' my cab.

     "Do not stop this hunk of shit cab, just slow down."  Nick had the address and as they passed the house, there's the fuckin' house, he watched, he looked, Natch watched, looked.  "Ok, lets get outta' here."

      "Where to sirs?"  Shit, they ain't leaving,

     "Back to the fuckin' hotel, and listen keep your fuckin mouth shit where we went, what we did, you got that Raul?"  Nick looking at the driver's hack license.

     "Yeah, forget we was here, forget where we went, we don't wanna come back here and throw you through a nice shinny window, you got that?"  Natch smiled, the whole big fuckin plan was coming together as he sat and watched the scenery roll by.


NEXT:  CHAPTER TWELVE:  THE BIG FUCKIN' PLAN.