As Vincent drove down Biscayne Road, Christian constantly re-slicked his blonde and grey hair back as he stared down the clear water that layed across South Beach. Miami was a special place. A fun place. The constant contrasting vibrant colors of the builidings, water, and people, gave Miami a unique demention that Vincent didn’t see very often. Well, not in the winter in Brooklyn at least. The weather was great on that Sunday morning. Vincent was driving in a 1965 Mercedes-Benz. Similar to the one in The Hangover, well, except dark green. They pulled up to Jeffry’s diner at 11:30 in the morning. Once they parked outside the front door, Christian pushed the door open, causing a sharp bell to ring at the entry. Vincent tucked away wayfare Raybans into his jacket front pocket. He then sat down and ran his hands down his capuchino skinned tonned face. Christian aproached the cashiers table in the front of the diner. 

“Table for two.” Said Christian.
“Let me see....” Said the women working at the front while looking at a electronic layout of the diner on the screen in front of her. She then grabbed two menus below the cashier.
“Right this way.”
She then escorted both of them to there booth which was located only a few steps away from the front door. There booth was touching the clear class window which had a fantastic view on South Beach. Jeffrey's was a classic diner. When you think of a diner, the first thing that comes to mind, chances are that’s what Jeffrey's place looked like. Well, except for the great view on south beach they had. All of the chairs were covered in red leather, and the walls were painted bright green. Jeffrey's was empty and quiet, which was unusual for a Sunday morning.
Christian was 5 foot 7 and 51 years old. He was wearing an indigo blue suit and pants with a white button down underneath.
Once seated and settled in, Vincent broke the silence inbetween them, and the first words Vince in a both assertive yet tentetive voice was: “Sorry, but um…. my recolection of what happen last night is a little fuzzy so....who are you again?”
Christian openned his mouth but before he had a chance to speak their was already a waiter standing next to their table. A tall gangaly looking mexican with gell in his hair, wearing a white T-Shirt and an apron.
“Good Morning and welcome to Jeffrey's Diner, can I start you out with something to drink?” Asked the waiter.
“I’ll take a tall glass of OJ.” Said Christian.
“I'll second that.” Said Vincent.
“Ok will be back with two OJ’s and ready to take your orders.”
Once the waiter left, Christian cleared his throat:
“You were down here in Miami on business correct?”
“Yeah.”
“And you met with Mr. Smith to discuss business matters at the Fontainebleau Hotel at 9 correct? To discuss expansion in both of your businesses along the East coast?” Asked Christian.
“I’m afraid that’s none of your buisness given the fact that I have no idea who the f*** you are.”
There was a brief moment of silence as both parties seemed rattled.
“I’m Mr. Smith’s business partner Christian Goodman. I was with you and Mr. Smith. Don’t remember me?” Vincent face remained neutral.
“Can you rember anything?” Asked Christian.
“Their are flashes here and their. But for the most part, no.” Responded Vincent.
“Wow, I’m sorry I was unaware of the situation. You didn’t really say much when we were on our way from the police station. So I just assumed you were tired or something.” Vince continued to be locked in on his eyes. Vincent didn’t trust this guy. And who would? Christian resembled a scumbag salesman. The way he talked and dressed. You got the impression that he wasn’t being friendly simply for the fun of it. Vincent then slowly and assertively asked him asked:
“Can you tell me what happened last night?” Christian immediately replied:
“Yes, um, of course…we went down stairs from Mr. Smith’s hotel room at around 10 and began drinking. I mean we were drinking in Mr. Smith’s room but when we got down to the bar, we really started drinking. Anyways, we were down in the bar area of the hotel when you got into a dispute with one of the gentleman at the bar and well…it ended up with him smashing a bottle Dom over your head. There was glass everywhere. Most of it was in your head though.” Christian took a moment to let Vince process.
“You said a bottle of Dom, right?”
“Yeah.”
Vincent leaned back and took a deep breath.
“And then what happened?”
“Well we took you to the hospital which, well, would explain your new piece of jewelry.” Christian lifted up and shook his wrist.
“And what exactly led to me ending up in a jail cell?” Calmly asked Vincent.
“When we got out of the hospital you were livid. You were screaming and shouting. We didn’t know what to do with you. Then a police officer approached you and asked you to keep it down and you, no-so respectfully, declined.”
“What did I do?” Asked Vince.
“You spat in his face and shoved him.”
The waiter then placed the two glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice on there table. “Here are your two OJ’s.” Said the waiter.
“Thanks.” Said Christian.
“Here you go.” He said as I placed there two glasses of fresh squeezed Orange juice on the round marble table. He reached for his pen and notebook and asked the usual;
“Now, what can I get you guys to eat?”
Christian was the first to reply.
“I’ll take eggs Benedict with a side of hash browns.”
The waiter scribbled this down with his black ball point pen on his yellow notepad. The waiter took a deep breath and switched his attention onto Vincent.
“And for you?”
“I’m going to be leaving now but thanks for everything. ” He then followed up that both by wiping the side of his mouth napkin, taking his glasses out of his coat pocket. Christian had a look of confusion and shock on his face.
“I will be right.”  Christian told the waiter.
Vincent was walking around the corner by the time that Christian was outside the diner. He jogged down the block and looked to his right and saw Vince walking down the grey pavement.
“Hey can you come back man?! Where is this coming from?” Screamed Christian down the street.
Vincent igonored him and continued to walk.
“Because without me you have nothing!” Screamed Christian. Vince was imediatley stopped walking.
“Yeah! Do I have your attention now! You don’t have a wallet, phone, and not to mention your brother! You have no clue where you are or any idea of where to go so if you want help I suggest you turn arond and walk back to this diner.
They walked back.
They were both calmly sitting in there seats waiting for the other one to say something. Christian tapped the table with his index finger with a steady beat as he slumped back into his chair.
“What kind of business do you think me and this Mr. Smith are involved in?” Asked Vince.
Christian responded quickly: “The distribution and selling of narcotics.”
“And what narcotics do you believe I specialize in selling?”
“Cocaine.” There was a pause.
“Where do you believe me and my business are currently situated?”
“Your main headquarters is located in New York City however you and your operation scatters across the East coast.” Vincent stopped.
“And why do you do this?”
“Why do I do what?”
“Why do you are do you work in this line of business? Seem like a smart guy, why this?” Christian took a moment to process the question and, to his credit, came up with the most generic bull**** that first came to mind.
“I was introduced to Mr. Smith through a mutual friend and decided to jump aboard his operation.” Vincent stared at him. His silence and look of dissatisfaction was an indirect request for a genuine answer. Chris then carried on;
“When I was kicked out school my junior year. Right here infact, at the University of Miami. It wasn’t anything that serious… something involving the copying and distribution of tests. Regardless, I was kicked into a world I don't know. I picked up a job at the local supermarket to get some sort of money coming in. It was fine, I guess. One day though, i’m bagging groceries and I look up and it’s the former head of the Business department from the University and he looks at me and says: ‘You are to supremely talented to be working at a god damn super market! Come work for me.’ So he wrote down an address and told me to come here at the end of the day. With no job introduction or nothing. That was the first time I walked into a trap house. He showed me around and I was in shock of course, I mean who wouldn't be. Here is your former business professor who is currently the head of an illegal drug operation, how could this happen? But then, after he gave me the tour, he said: ‘When I first started… I was hesitant too… I never thought I would end up here… but then I thought try it, you might like what you find.’” Christian took a moment.
“It’s funny… I’m from Los Angeles, I grew in a good home, my parents made decent coin, my mom kept me away from anything bad and spoke volumes of the harm of drugs.” Christian chuckled. “It’s funny because I’m realizing more and more in like that when someone vilifies something, the more attracted you are to it. When someone says not to do something, it’s terrible that our initial instinct is to want to do it. The human mind is a dangerous and peculiar thing.” They both stopped and thought for a moment. “I was drawn in by the danger of this business and found out that I love it. I genuinely enjoy coming in to work for Mr. Smith everyday.” Vincent just continued to look at Chris. But he wasn’t just blankly staring at him. His eyes were squinting and you got the impression that his mind was creating judgment and thinking every second he looked into his eyes. Trying to get some sort of reading or pick something up. The bell behind me rang. I turned around and saw the eggs and delivered the plate to his table. “Here you are.” “Thanks.” Replied Christian. I left and returned to my listening spot. I was eager to hear Vincent speak. Every time he spoke it wasn’t to make noise and cut the silence. That’s what most people do. Most people talk to make noise. But when he spoke it was because he actually had something to say. Christian was, of course, the one to break this silence. He began to eat his eggs and began talking:
“Now, this morning Mr. Smith sent me to discuss business matters because… well, due to the extraneous events of last night we didn’t get to talk much about it in the first place. So… what are your plans for expansion in the next 12 months?” Vince kept quiet.
“Come on… talk to me Vince!” Vince chuckled and took a sip of his Orange juice.
“Mmmm, fresh squeezed Florida delight!” Vince then took a deep and leaned in and said: “Dom bottles don’t break.”
“What?”
“Some s*** that they put in the sand… I think it’s Kryptonyte. Not sure though. They make them in France. Regardless, they don’t break. So, since Dom bottles don’t break, I wonder, why you say that there was glass everywhere?” The tone in Christians voice was a shook one to say the least: “Well…” Vincent immediately interjected: “I’m not finished. There hasn’t been a professor at the University of Miami in last 30 years with the last name Smith.” “How do you…” “Know that? I visited the University my senior year of High School and remembered a couple details from it. One of which was that Mr. Clark has been the head of the business department for the last 20 years and I also met his soon to be replacement. His name was Mr. Thompson.” Vince poorer himself a glass of water.
“Details can tell you a lot about a man’s story. Specifically whether or not its bull****. Now, tell me who you really are?”
“I’m Christian Goodman and I can assure you i’ve been working with Mr. Smith for the last 15 years of my life.” Vince had a smirk on his face. He pulled out a brush from his right pocket and ran it through his hair.
“I thought you might say that.” Murmured Vincent.
“Hey can you do me a favor, Chris? Thats what you said your name was right? Chris?” “Yeah.”
“Can you undo your tie for me and undo the top two buttons.” The moment Christians mouth opened up Vince immediately stopped him.
“I wasn’t asking, I was telling you.” Vincent leaned in. His voice went quite.
“Now, in order to incentivize, I have a proposition for you. You feel that pressure coming in on your right knee?” Chris shook his head as he awaited Vincent’s response.
“Now, here’s what seems to be the situation, you’re going to take off your tie, unbutton the top half of your shirt and in return, I won’t blow a hole through your right knee.”
Chris slowly reached up for his tie, took it off and swung it over his left shoulder. He unbuttoned the top three buttons and spread his shirt open like superman. Vince let the remaining air out of his lungs. Chris reaches for his chest and pull out what appears to be a recording device. He gave the small square camcorder with tape around it a good look and pressed the button on the right hand side.
“Wow.” He said
“You know… I would figure that the D.E.A.’s equipment would be a little more updated, but, to be honest I’m not surprised.”
Christian didn’t say a word.
“What’s the situation here?” Asked Vincent.
“And don’t forget what’s under the table.”
“Theres a surveillance truck at the corner and two more cars around the block for backup.”
Vince squinted outside at the nearby corner and saw a stationary truck.
“So I’m assuming that that ice cream truck at the corner isn’t really an ice cream truck, right?”
Christian nodded his head complying with everything that Vincent is asking of him.
“I don’t even know where to begin….” Said Vincent.
Vincent then removed his hand from underneath the table and to reveal that all he had was a plastic gun.
“I still think it’s fully loaded, don’t you?” He followed that up by squirting the gun in his mouth.
“Ummm…Vodka, I think?”
Christian had a look of defeat. I mean wouldn’t you? He had just figured it out; he set up a rat trap only to find out that Vince had the mind of a lion.
“How did you know I wouldn’t look under the table?” Asked Christian.
“A charging bull always looks at the red cape not at the man with the sword.”
Christian chuckled.
“Now that the recordings off, can you tell me who you actually are?”
“Yeah… I guess...I was genuinly with you all last night...and I am actually Mr. Smith’s buisness partner. However, the real reason you were in a prison cell when you woke up was because last night went to s***, and when you passed out in the cell they approached, telling me that in reality, they didn’t have enough conclusive evedence to convict us but they would soon. They offered me plan to turn you in. So I took it…it was my only way out.”
Vincent sighed.
“Gotta do what you gotta do right.” Said Vincent.
“I suppose so.”
As he said those words, they could hear the wheels on the ice cream truck at the corner back up, and pull away. Christian took a glance at the corner to double check that they were gone. Once sure, he grabbed his glass of water, took a long sip, and stared at it for a couple seconds. He then proceeded by vaulting the glass at Christians head. It made direct contact, forcing Christian to fall to the ground, and make a large thumb when he hit the ground. As Christian lied on the floor, Vince turned his head to the left, where he saw there waiter, the tall mexican, with a shot gun pointed directly at his head. He fired and sunk to bullets into Vincent chest. And there, in Jeffry’s Diner, lied two corpes in a pool of blood diluted by ice water.