Jonathan watched it slop all over the car with a wistful sigh. "There goes about ten stone," he said sadly, not even blinking an eye at the sight of raw meat everywhere. He reckoned that his detached survival mode had been switched on otherwise he'd probably be in ranting and raving shambles. "Okay," he moved over a bit so he could help push, "we need to do this together otherwise we'll end up losing everything. I need to buy new boots! Right then, on the count of three. One, two," he nudged Ewan, "three." They pushed off at the same time, trudging down the sidewalk and ignoring the squeaky wheel until they reached the back door of the diner. Jonathan looked around the alleyway with an appraising eye, "I don't know," he bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't think they're gonna go for it. I mean...it actually looks sanitary." He nodded at his to have a look around their refuse area, which was neatly stacked around the door with sealed shut containers, seemingly in compliance with current health inspection regulations.
Biting at his lower lip, Ewan searched around for any signs of contaminated product. "I don't know, Jonathan. They might not look inside the packages and then they'll never know that the meat is foul. Besides, it's not the diner itself that's unsavoury, it's the chef. He looks like Chef Boyardee who hasn't showered in six years. I really think he might go for it." Finding the door that would lead into the kitchen, there was a bell for service people to ring. Pressing it, he waited for someone to answer. The door swung open to reveal a skinny little man who had an uncanny resemblance to a rat. Ewan twitched in disgust at the sight of him. Throwing a look to Jonathan, he said, "Hi, um, we're from Goldberg's Kosher Meats and we have your delivery for you. Sixteen stone in ground hamburger. I've never seen you around here before, but I'm sure you know how these deals work. We'll need 1200 hundred in cash." Ewan crossed his fingers behind his back, silently hoping that this little scheme would work.
He bit back a snicker and tried to look like a perfectly barely-legit meat dealer. When he couldn't think of how one would look, he settled for looking vacant. The rat-faced man stepped forward and glanced over the crates without actually opening any, giving them a suspicious look. "I don't see no packing list here," he pointed out with a crafty, oily grin, "and no packing list means I pay you a thousand." Jonathan nudged Ewan in the back before the guy had finished talking, silently and emphatically telling him to take the deal and run.
Ewan felt like he was on the job. He put on his best look of confidence and stuck out his still meat sticky hand. "Sir, you've got yourself a deal." He decided to leave the part constructed in his head about how the packing slip had blown away when a bus had driven by, but it didn't seem like Mr. Rat cared for an explanation, so he wouldn't give him one. Once the door was shut on them while he went presumably get their money, Ewan turned toward Jonathan and mouthed "we got it” He didn't want to speak too loudly yet in case someone was listening at the door. Moments later the rat came back with a wad of cash in hand and two other guys behind him. They started to carry the crates of meat inside. "Hey, you guys can have a free dolly as well." Ewan smiled a little at them and took the money that he held out for him. "Yeah, so um, we'll be heading out now. It was a pleasure doing business with you." Ewan practically tore down the alleyway to get out of there. He didn't want them to suddenly realise what was going on and come back to get
( ... )
He didn't ask questions and didn't stick around to see what happened next. He practically followed on his heels until they hit the street. He turned to his with a huge grin. "Jesus, I can't believe they fell for it!" he laughed, but then turned back to get the name of the place so he would definitely not come back as a customer. He'd probably catch tetanus from having a chicken salad with his luck. Which, it turns out, wasn't so rotten after all, despite the drying bits of meat making the hem of his jeans stiff. He didn't care. Nothing a wash couldn't take care of. "Come on," he tugged on Ewan’s arm as they made their way back to the bar where Ewan had parked. "Alright, so I think that means 500 each," he held his hand out, an eager expression plastered all over his face. They spent the rest of the walk back laughing and counting their cash, which rat-man paid in very small and unmarked bills until they reached the carpark where one of Ewan’s prized motorbikes waited. Jonathan turned to him with a bit of a smile, “I just thought of
( ... )
Pocketing his newly acquired 500, Ewan nodded in agreement. “You’re right, you know. We did get out of the tab. We’re going to have to think of more clever ways to start pub fights so that no one realises we’ve not paid.” Looking from Jonathan to the bike, he punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, man. You need to come by the house to pick up the present I got you. I’ll tell you already it’s a truly horrendous dish set that my mum gave to me that I won’t use. You can take it to Iceland should you ever go back there.” Ewan figured that he never needed to buy Jonathan another gift of any sort after the farm, and in being a cheap bastard he’d stick to that forever. “You know you’ve always wanted to ride bitch. Give it a try.”
He folded his cash away, stuffing it into his pocket and crossed his arms as Ewan straddled his bike. Chewing his lip in thought, he thought about it for a long beat before rolling his eyes and letting out a huge sigh. “I know I’m going to regret this. If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you,” he mumbled, toeing his meat-contaminated boots off and kicking them under a nearby car. Throwing his leg over the seat, he settled in and snaked one arm around Ewan’s waist, sliding close the instant the engine revved up. “You’re enjoying this far too much. Let's take the long way round, yeah?”
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