"You snakes! You brood of vipers!"

“Wog!”

Sudden silence filled the room. Blood froze and heads turned slowly towards the sound.

“Come again?” Boss growled.

The brute spat on the floor and growled, “Wog!”

“Get him.”

The muttered order was clear. The goons struck the brute and crushed his face against the floor. Jones leant against the wall and lit another cigarette.

“Stop them!” The brute looked at his friends, and they backed away.

The sound of meat tenderising and bones breaking filled the garage. Blood and vomit gurgled out on the floor.

“Not so tough now eh?” Boss kicked the dead meat.

“New guy.” The man in the corner rubbed his chin nervously. “Won’t miss him.”

“I don’t deal with racists.”

“We’re not. New guy. Didn’t know.”

“That’s a problem.” Boss opened a new cigarette package. “How can I trust guys who don’t know their own staff?”

The other guy scrambled to get his lighter to work. “It won’t happen again.”

“The price is OK then.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Jones smirked while he stubbed out the cigarette and put the fag end in his pocket. Boss got the price he wanted. He always did.

“Clean up the mess.”

Jones opened the trunk of the car, and the goons started cleaning.

“No problem,” the nervous guy stuttered. “We’ll fix it.”

“I made the mess. I’ll clean it.” Boss pulled the guys to the side. “Let’s talk business.”

With the help of plastic bags and black duct tape, they made a neat package and put it in the trunk. One goon used the pressure washer while the other searched for splatter. Jones waited in the car.

“Let’s go!” Boss put on the seat belt. “You know what to do?”

Jones nodded.

“Drop us off at Mammy’s.”