“I panicked. H-he reached for his p-pistol,” said Paulie.
“Reached for his pistol? His fucking hands are cuffed.”
Paulie shot Chubs a bewildered gaze. Clearly, he had only now realized that a man in handcuffs would have a heck of a time reaching for a pistol. “He jerked around quickly and I though he was making a move. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He paused. “What are we gonna do?”
Chubs sat down on the bottom step and put his head in his hands. He shook his head and then looked up. “Well, Dickface, I for one don’t want to die for your fuck-up. So here’s what we’re gonna do: we’re gonna uncuff the bastard and make it look like he escaped.”
“The boss ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out he escaped.”
Chubs stared blankly at his partner for a whole minute without blinking. “And what do you think the boss would say if he found out you made a guy dead who was cuffed and that the boss told us specifically to keep alive? No, you’re right. Let’s go with your plan.”
Paulie picked up the dead Guy’s pistol, aimed, and fired. Chubs screamed. “What the fuck. You fucking shot me.”
“Yea. I’m setting a scene. Now you shoot me,” said Paulie.
“Fuck you goddamn piece of shit fuck. Fucking shit, that hurts. You moron. What if you hit an arterie? Bring me some towels. You’re lucky I didn’t move or I’d be fucking dead. And no I’m not gonna shoot you because how the hell are you going to explain how this ass-wipe shot both of us before we made him dead,” said Chubs as he tied a belt around his bicep to try to slow the bleeding.
Paulie dropped his gun to his side in resignation. “You’re right. The isn’t right. Shit.”
Chubs Flannery took a deep breath and exhaled strongly. “It’s nothin’. I’ll be fine. Flesh wound, right?” he said. “Anyway, I have a pl-”
POW POW POW
Three shots to the chest and the Chubs Flannery chapter of the Giancarlo gang had ended.
Paulie looked at his deceased partner and said out loud, “there, that’s betta.”