"How'd you get caught for that bank job?" Richie asked, seated in an old dusty grey recliner which he had turned to face the sagging couch Ray was sitting on. Richie leaned backwards and stretched as if he was preparing for a long story.

"By bein' a fuckin idiot. I wanted to do it in an original way, so I figured it'd be funny to write the demands on a napkin and slip it to the clerk. So I take a napkin, find a place to write in the desk and start writing 'Empty the safe, don't touch the alarm, no one gets shot.' So I get done writing it, walk up to the teller, and lay it down in front of her. Young lady wearin' some purple uniform. I lay the napkin in front of her and take out my gun. She just looks at me, like she's scared. I didn't think nothin of it, I mean I had a fuckin hand cannon so I thought it was normal. I tell her to read the note, so she starts reading. Just then the cops bust in with guns, pullin the usual bullshit." Ray replied, taking a drag on a Lucky Strike.

"How'd they know?" Richie interrogated, leaning forward slightly.

"Turns out, when I was writing the note, some guy saw what I was writing and told the teller. Teller hit the silent alarm, few minutes later they were there." Ray said, sighing and sinking down in his seat as he recollected his own stupidity.

"Man, every body knows you don't try pulling fancy shit like that. You walk in, wave the gun around, tell them to open the safe and leave. You don't write little love notes to the goddamn teller." Richie said, laughing and suddenly becoming very animated as he usually did when the opportunity to make fun of someone presented itself.

"Yeah I know now, stupidest thing I ever done." Ray was blowing smoke out of his mouth now, "You know what gun I tried to use that time? That old Walther .32 we took from that drug dealer back in the day. You remember right? The one with the dreadlocks, white guy thought he was black? I think his name was somethin fucked up, real weird sounding."

"Shit! You mean the piece we took from Drexl?"

"Yeah, that was the guy. We shook down that crack bin he and his does partied in."

"Yeah yeah, I remember that well. Offered us ten grand to leave him alone." Richie laughed at the memory of the wannabe pimp with the scars above his eyes that he'd inflicted himself to look hard core.

Ray looked back at those times as the most exciting in his life. Drexl Spivey, the big shot pimp in the Red Light District of Liberty City. It wasn't long after the guy paid off Richie and Ray before he packed up dodge and headed to Detroit. Richie used to know about all the big players in town who were just waiting for a bent cop to come along looking for a pay off. Richie had informed him that nowadays they didn't mess with stuff like that, the only people around the Red Light District these days were mafia grease balls who were a lot more organized, and chinese Triads who operated everything they were into from factories. There weren't any Drexl Spiveys around any more. He and his girl, the crazy broad named Catalina, just cruised around doing B and E and sticking up liquor stores.

"That reminds me Ray, you need a gun. I think I have a spare piece in the dresser, I'll check." Richie stood up from his chair and walked over to the dresser Ray had previously been looking through. After searching for a short time, he produced a medium sized Browning 380 automatic. The metal plating had a yellowish glint to it, looking old and unused.

Ray looked at the Browning and shifted uncomfortably. He stared at the gun for a moment and then turned his glare to Richie.

"Why do we need guns? You said this thing would be clean."

"Better to have a gun and not need it then need a gun and not have it. We're all gonna pack, no matter what. I also may have stretched the truth a little when I said it would be completely clean. There might be a little dirty work involved. Me and Cat worry about that, you talk to the guy, negotiate. Your good with words and talking, I don't know shit about that stuff." Richie laid the gun on the coffee table.

Ray frowned as he examined it some more, "That's mine?"

"Yeah."

"The fuckin thing's filthy, it's junk. You expect this guy to take me seriously when I'm packing that piece of shit? Your girl has that shiny revolver and she's going to be doing the dirty work?"

"What the fuck does it matter? That cannon Cat has holds 6 bullets, that's shit in a fire fight. That Browning holds fifteen in the magazine and one in the tube. That's sixteen times you can fire if you're in a pinch. My beretta holds twenty in the mag, bought it from a jack boy don't at the Quays for fifty bucks. It ain't about what the damn thing looks like." Richie picked up the Browning in his right hand and mockingly aimed it at Ray.

"Let me see what you carry."

"What?"

"Let me see it!"

"Fuck man, fine." Richie stood up and pulled a silver beretta from beneath his shirt, jammed into his pants by his right hip.

"You got one of those damn things too!"

"If you two aren't the biggest fuck ups I've ever seen... Guns are everywhere! We don't need to worry about guns!" Catalina had appeared in the front door, carrying two pizza boxes. She was wearing a pair of black sunglasses that hid her amused expression for the most part.

Ray liked her looks a lot, one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. But christ, she was crazy. She had almost ruptured Richie's spleen when he asked her to go pick up the pizzas for them and she slugged him in the gut before storming out the door.

"We need a car if we want to be respectable. Not that shit box beater outside. Something nice." Catalina set the pizza boxes down on the table and withdrew her revolver, "You take this fat man, I'd rather have the other one. I might get the urge to shoot you, and if I do I want to do it more than six times."

Ray chuckled and picked up the Browning, "Sweetheart, if I get in a situation when you're going to be blasting at me, I don't want you to have sixteen chances to hit me. The way I see it, you only got six bullets then I have a better chance to live. Sound good?"

Catalina leaned closer to him, her words rolling off her tongue in a piercing whisper, "Six is five more than I need. The rest are for fun."

Richie interrupted, "Alright kids, play time is over. Catalina is right, we need some wheels. So let's go."

Catalina laughed for the first time since he met her as she turned around to open the door.