the smuggler’s bible


The bosses meet for a few hours, which leaves Buck waiting in the lobby with the muscle. The rest of the goons slouch against pillars or drag their chairs into the corner so they can sit with their faces half in the shadow and their backs against the wall.

Those are the drama queens, Buck thinks. But he doesn’t sneer or anything—it’s good to cultivate a little drama. If you’re tasteful, of course.

Buck settles in beside the front desk where he can reach the radio. Better to be the man making decisions, he figures, even if they’re trivial.