Adventures of Quigley & McFinleyyy Chapter 2 – Cocaine Confessions

 

Adventures of Quigley & McFinleyyy

Chapter 2 – Cocaine Confessions

The Cuban’s office smelled like cigars, desperation, and too much cologne. A gold-plated pistol sat on his desk, not for protection, but as décor. Behind him, the blinds cracked open to reveal the Miami skyline bleeding neon into the night.

Quigley leaned against the wall, cigarette smoke spiraling toward the ceiling fan. McFinleyyy sat slouched in a leather chair, shirt still soaked with margarita and blood. Across from them, two blondes lounged on a velvet couch, legs crossed like switchblades, sipping champagne as if they were born to it.

“You two fight like demons,” the Cuban said, his voice syrupy. “You make enemies fast. But enemies…” He grinned, flashing too much gold tooth. “…enemies can be useful.”

McFinleyyy burped. “So can whiskey.”
Quigley shot him a look. “Don’t negotiate drunk.” Then he turned to the Cuban. “What do you want?”

The Cuban steepled his fingers. “Simple. Deliver a package. One car. One night. Don’t get caught.”
Quigley smirked. “Define caught.”

The Cuban only smiled wider. He snapped his fingers. The blondes stood, in perfect sync, and walked toward the door. One of them looked back at Quigley, her lipstick a violent red. “Try not to crash it,” she purred.

Moments later, they were outside, staring at the “package.”

It was a Ferrari Testarossa, cherry red, parked under a neon sign that read Heaven is a Place on Earth. Inside the trunk: bricks of cocaine stacked like alphabet blocks.

McFinleyyy whistled. “Looks fast.”
Quigley flicked his cigarette. “It has to be.”

The blondes climbed into the back seat, their perfume choking out the smell of gasoline. “Drive, boys,” one said. “Cops change shifts in ten minutes.”

They hit the strip, engine roaring like a caged beast. Neon lights smeared across the windshield. The cocaine rattled in the trunk with every sharp turn. Quigley lit another cigarette and cracked the window. “Feels like a bad idea,” he muttered.
McFinleyyy grinned. “Bad ideas keep us alive.”

Halfway across the causeway, the sirens came. Blue and red lights tore through the night, chasing them like wolves.

McFinleyyy slammed the pedal, the Ferrari screaming. Quigley leaned out the window, cigarette clenched between his teeth, and flipped the cops the bird. “You’ll never take us alive!”

The blondes in the back laughed hysterically, tossing empty champagne bottles at the cruisers. One shattered a windshield. Another bounced off a cop’s forehead.

“Classy women,” Quigley muttered.
“Marry me,” McFinleyyy replied.

They weaved through traffic, palm trees blurring into neon streaks. A Camaro tried to cut them off—McFinleyyy clipped it, sending it spinning into a billboard for suntan lotion. The explosion lit the night sky.

“Subtle,” Quigley said.
“Fireworks are romantic,” McFinleyyy answered.

The cops were still on them, relentless. Then one of the blondes leaned forward, whispering into Quigley’s ear. “Take the bridge. The old one.” Her perfume was stronger than the truth.

He glanced at McFinleyyy. “She trustworthy?”
McFinleyyy shrugged. “She’s blonde.”

They veered onto the old bridge, wood and steel creaking under the Ferrari’s weight. The cops followed, tires screeching. Halfway across, the bridge collapsed behind them, swallowing three cruisers whole.

They skidded to a stop at the other side, the Ferrari idling in the silence. Miami shimmered in the distance, neon lights dancing on the water.

Quigley exhaled smoke. “Congratulations, gentlemen. We’ve officially pissed off every cop in the city.”
McFinleyyy grinned, pulling another whiskey from under the seat. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

One of the blondes leaned between them, lipstick smeared, eyes glittering. “The Cuban will be pleased.”
Quigley snorted. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

Because when they popped the trunk, the cocaine bricks weren’t cocaine at all.
They were bricks.
Real bricks.

McFinleyyy stared. “We risked our lives… for construction material?”
Quigley took a drag, then laughed, bitter and low. “Welcome to Miami.”

---

Hashtags

#QuigleyAndMcFinleyyy #ViceCityChaos #CocaineConfessions #FastCarsAndBlondes #DarkComedy #MiamiMadness #80sNoir #ComicViolence