"Let me tell you, ladies, you've just guaranteed your business with Rudy." Mickey counted out the money for payment. "I reckon he'd have bent over backwards for these beauties."
"It wasn't easy, and you tell him that when he asks the price. That foolish embargo has damn near put me out of a job." Molls watched each bill carefully, her shrewd eyes following Mickey's hands. She liked Mickey well enough, but liking and trusting are entirely different things.
"He won't complain Molls. He's had to dip into his private stash of Cubans just to keep his clients happy. Rudy will be more than delighted to get these." Mickey handed the hefty payment to Molls, who proceeded to count it again. Mickey had been warned of her meticulous ways, otherwise he would have been offended.
Molls counted the money twice before she was good and satisfied. Seeing she was happy, Mickey signaled for his heavies to load the shipment. Four cases of Cuban cigars; three crates of vodka, whiskey, and bourbon; boxes of assorted trade items, and one delicately wrapped parcel of fine Dutch chocolate (as a birthday gift for the fearsome Mimi) later, Molls was casting away from the bank of the river with a pocket full of Rudy McGhee's money and a considerably lightened boat.
"Before you go handsome," Molls shouted from the safety of the water, "I thought you might like to know. You all have some competition, from down stream. Food for thought!" With a raucous laugh, Molls and Jukka slipped into the forming mist, leaving Mickey with the sinking feeling that this was probably not going to be the good evening he thought it would.