27.
A white plastered building in a graveled lot. Beer flags draped like ballpark bunting. Neon tubes boned the marquee. A dark joint with a few girls in neon bikinis twirling a main stage. A large rectangle, brass poles. A handful of sweat hogs dotted about. The bar, lounge tables. Tony paced the club, reaching Dom, Max, and Moose.
"I'm here to see Big Dave." A stare-down. All three showed Tony through a corridor. A few turns, tucked in the rear of the club. Big Dave, the owner, and local crime boss. Big Dave.
Perched on the capo peripet. Mobbed up in shark skin, rolling an illegal cigar with fingers decked in diamonds.
"What's the exact amount?"
"Ninety-three thou."
"What's your offer?"
"I have fifty large. Right here."
"What about the rest? The forty-three grand?"
"I'll come up with it."
"When?"
"Could I have a week?"
"I don't see why not. Is that somethin' we could live with?"
the goon squad, reluctant. "We could do that."
"But no longer."
"Okay--I'll accept this deal. And I mean it Tony. One week."
"I understand. And I appreciate it, Dave. I'll make it up to you. I'll make this thing right."