— “Is this gonna take forever?” — Bobby asked, sighing as he held his pool cue.

— “Shut up…” — Christopher muttered, leaning over the pool table, concentrating, holding the cue, aiming at the ball, concentrating.

A cigarette dangling from his lips, a bit of ash had fallen onto the table, but it didn't matter right now. He struck the cue ball, it hit one of the striped balls and went into one of the holes. He raised his arms and stood up in victory, almost throwing the cue.

— “There jou go, jou fat fuck!” — he exclaimed, and Bobby rolled his eyes. Chrissy had a single good shot and thinks he's all that.

Just a normal day at the Bing office. The two continued fooling around while Silvio counted bills at his desk, stuffing a certain amount into several envelopes with names on them. As soon as Silvio finished and stood up from his chair, Chris watched him and asked,

— “Where jou goin’?”

— “It's the girls' payday.” — he said, showing him the multiple envelopes in his hands, he was going downstairs to give the dancers their pay.

Chris dropped his pool cue as fast as lightning and approached Silvio.

— "Give em to me. I'll do it…" — he said, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on Silvio's desk.

— "Alright…" — Silvio sighed, handing him the envelopes with all the girls' names, but Chrissy saved one for last.

Your name. You were his favorite. Everyone's favorite, he'd say. With your perfect legs, your tousled hair, your slow, skillful movements on the pole, and God, your breasts!

Chris went down the office stairs to the girls' dressing rooms. He entered after knocking on the door, though he didn't find anything he hadn't seen before while the girls were dancing. He started handing out the envelopes, amidst some flirting from the girls, because he was the boss's partner. He handed out all the envelopes; only one was missing—yours—but he couldn't see you anywhere.

— "Where is she?" — he asked one of the girls, showing her the name on the envelope.

— "She's outside, smoking."

Chris nodded and went out the service door that led to the parking lot, and there he saw you, wrapped in a long coat that reached just above your knees, with a cigarette in your mouth.

— "Hey." — he called, and when you turned around, he held up the envelope.— "Got jour money right heah." —