The penthouse was on the twenty-seventh floor. When Lancer finally got to the bottom and walked towards the curved pick-up point, there was still no driver.
"Hey -- uumph! Some help here, Nicholas!"
Lancer turned around. He recognized Harris and helped him dislodge a suitcase that was stuck in the door. Harris eyed the lawyer and motioned to the penthouse. "Shouldn't you be upstairs getting wasted?" It was plain to see he was jealous.
"Ramos sent me down here." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I think he just wanted to get rid of me for a while."
"So he sent you to me," said Harris as he checked the zippers. Harris and Lancer both worked for Ramos, but there was nothing legitimate about anything Harris did.
"Yeah he told me to see if the driver needed any help."
Harris was not amused. Sometimes he wondered if Ramos knew sending an idiot like Lancer would just give him more work to do. "The driver needs help reading time. He's two minutes late."
"Heh. 'Help with reading time'. That's funny. So, what, are you getting rid of a body for Ramos?" Lancer laughed at his own joke. Except Harris was not laughing. "Oh...shit...oh shitshitshitshitshit..."
"Will you shut up and see if anyone's looking at us weird?" Harris squinted and saw headlights approach. "Good. He's here."
A black BMW drove into the driveway. A tall man with short jet-black hair stepped out of the driver's side. "Evening Harris. Who's the fairy?"
"Nicholas Lancer. I'm an attorney for Ramos."
The tall man looked confused. "Nope, I'm pretty sure you're a fairy. Aren't most lawyers?"
Harris rolled his eyes. "Cut the shit, Seth. He doesn't get your sense of humor." He motioned to the bag. "Can you get it in the trunk? I'm getting really tired of hauling it around."
Seth opened the trunk. He lifted the bag with one hand and place it in the back without any hint of difficultly. Even Lancer could tell Harris was annoyed. "So," said Seth, "anyone I knew?"
Harris grinned. "Yeah, actually. George."
Seth actually looked surprised. "Well, I'm sure the bastard deserved it." He closed the trunk. "It's the short drive to the boat. Any special orders?"
"One," said Harris. "Ramos needs you for something else. Come upstairs when you're done."
"Wait a minute. You're making me stay in this town longer than I want to?" He pounded a fist into the car. "Come on, Harris, I fucking hate Miami."
"How can you fucking hate Miami? There are girls in bikinis everywhere."
"Everyone drives slow."
Harris waved his hand. "Ramos has a job for you. He said you can use whatever car you like, and you'll be out of the state as soon as you're able. Come upstairs and talk to him." Harris pretended to act sympathetic, but it came out fake. "And please don't Ramos angry. You weight at least twenty pounds more than George, and I don't feel like packing another body tonight."
