is jerry here?
what's up is that hunk of shit chevy he sold us made it seventeen miles before the engine blew up.
so he owes us nine hundred dollars.
that can be arranged. in the meantime we're leaving the piece of shit in the driveway. with a note. nick looks one more time to the chevy as the third sailor finishes painting the hood with the words: pay up or die.
sixty-three lousy dollars.
touch that phone, kid, and you lose your left nut. nick raises his hands. "you don't have to tell me twice."
i don't want the lincoln. i want my nine-hundred dollars. i'm taking the sixty-three, which means you owe me another eight hundred and thirty.
exactly. have it by tomorrow or you'll be found in the trunk of your new used piece of shit at the bottom of the bay. and with that they release him and jerry crumples to the floor like an abandoned marionette.