Jake Randolph in "Bourbon On The Rocks" Pt. 183

I kept weaving my way toward the mouth of the Port of Los Angeles, moving swiftly but cautiously around the warehouses. I hadn’t seen any sign of Cal or the goons.

The sun was starting to set, creating a beautiful pinkish glow on the horizon. The evening air was a symphony of seagull screeches and tugboat horns and passing trucks, and smelled of saltwater and diesel exhaust.

I was hiding behind a giant metal crate watching the road when I saw Tiffany’s red convertible coming toward me.

I quickly stepped out from behind the crate and stuck my thumb out…