[s2e6] Hold What You Got -

"I'm exactly what the ticket said." Miller leaned back, his synthetic jacket crinkling. He looked tired. Not the kind of tired a night of sleep fixes, but the kind that gets down into the marrow and stays there. "You want to hold what you got, Holloway? Then you stop looking at what you lost. This is the pile. This is the whole damn stack. You either lock it in the floor safe or you let the wind take it. I'm done holding the bag."

He didn't wait for a reply. He pushed through the screen door, letting it slap twice against the frame. Outside, the air smelled of ozone, wet iron, and diesel. Miller popped the collar of his jacket and walked out into the deluge, leaving the old man alone with a pouch of dirty cash and a garage full of dead men's tools.

"We used to be able to dictate the terms," the old man muttered. [S2E6] Hold What You Got

"To the bank. To the state. To whoever's buying up the bottom half of this county this week. Does it matter?"

"He didn't leave," Miller corrected him. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound pouch. He didn’t open it. He just set it on the ledger with a dull thud . "He just got traded." "I'm exactly what the ticket said

The neon sign above the radiator shop buzzed with a low, steady frequency that vibrated right through Miller’s boots. The sign read Holloway & Son , though the son had been buried in a dry-county cemetery since ninety-four, and Holloway himself couldn't grip a wrench no more without his knuckles locking up like old brakes.

"The boy didn't come back," Holloway said, his voice sounding like gravel being turned with a spade. He didn't look at Miller. He looked at the window, where the rain was just starting to turn the red clay outside into a slick, impassable soup. "Left his truck. Left his tools. Left the bay door unlocked." "You want to hold what you got, Holloway

Holloway finally looked down at the pouch. He knew what was in it. It was the payout from the three-ton haul they’d run across the state line two nights ago—the one where the tires were screaming and the engine block was glowing cherry red in the dark. It was supposed to be the money that cleared the books. "You're short," Holloway stated.