Jimi Hendrix's "All along the Watch Tower" played quietly from the tape deck of my Shelby GT. It was a beautiful car, sleek and sexy. It drove faster, shifted more smoothly, and sounded better than any other car I had ever driven. I felt a sense of disdain when I remembered that within an hour it would be pounded into a cube and reduced to a piece of junkyard rubble.

I was parked behind George's Drive-thru. It was a grease ball burger place in the wrong part of town. The dumpsters were over flowing and the smell of boiling oil permeated the air.

I took a deep breath and clasped the cold handle of pistol I had concealed in a shoulder holster beneath my black suit jacket. Dress for success, I thought to myself.

I stepped on the gas and pulled up to the order box. A kid's muffled voice shot through the speaker system.

"Welcome to George's Drive-thru, how can I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to order one double deluxe burger with the works," I said. There was no double deluxe burger on the menu.

"Would you like fries with that?"

"Yeah, a large."

"Pull up to the next window. That'll be five hundred dollars, cash. Have a good day, sir."

I tapped the gas lightly. Even though the acceleration on the car was excellent, I felt as though everything was going in slow motion. I had just placed an order for six grams of pure heroin.

The man at the service window was fat and balding. What was left of his hair was scraggly and gray. He had a large mole above his upper-lip. In his hand he held a yellow bag with a red smiley face on it. Cute.

"Pay up," he barked.

I reached into my back pocket and took out my wallet. I gave the man five one hundred dollar bills. They were crisp and fresh. None of them were mine.

He handed me the bag. I opened it and just as I suspected there were two gray bags.

"You got it your way. Come back any time."

Talk about service with a smile.

I reached into my breast pocket and removed the pistol. I pointed it between his eyes.

"You know what I want. All the money."

I expected him to put his hands up. Maybe even quake with fear. Instead he laughed. He smiled at me with those rotten yellow teeth.

I heard a tapping on my window a few seconds later. I turned around and saw what had made the man smile. I almost laughed myself. There was a huge guy with no neck looking into my car. He was carrying a sawed off shotgun.

"Nice car," he said. "Get the fuck out."