A tall, finely muscled man sat atop a driftwood log on the shore of Flat Iron lake. The sweat on his ebony skin glistened in the dying sunlight.
Arthur Morgan called from behind, “Lenny!”
Lenny leaned back on the log, turned to face his companion.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” Lenny said. “I’ve got an opportunity for you.”
“Is that so?” Arthur smiled. “You always seem to have a little something for me.”
“I do what I do well, you know that.” Lenny returned Arthur’s smile. “We’ve got a big score on our hands here if everything goes smoothly.”
“Oh yeah? And what if it don’t go so smoothly?” Arthur said, smirking.
“Then I guess we’ll make do. Maybe don’t shoot your gun off so quickly this time, and we’ll be alright.” Lenny winked and relished the wave of embarrassment that washed over Arthur’s face.
“Hey!” Arthur exclaimed.
“Maybe if you do good on this job, I’ll stop teasing you about that.” Lenny flashed another wink, as if Arthur could have missed the message.