There are two middle-aged men in suits pitching to clients in the venue.
On the left side of the iron gate, there's a two-story building. The first floor is a trading hall, with only a fifty-year-old obese Latina woman present.
She is the accountant, looking at a computer behind the desk.
Opposite her, two large Latino men with tattoos are sitting on chairs reading magazines.
I stopped the car, and a middle-aged white man walked over from the open ground, wearing a work badge with his name and position displayed on his chest.
"Hi, are you here to see the car?"
The middle-aged man approached with a professional smile.
As he got within two meters of me, Kelly stepped forward, blocking his path.
She turned her body, pulling up her T-shirt, revealing a gun handle.
"Damn it!" The middle-aged man retreated two steps, turned, and left.
"SHIT!" Mia glared at Kelly, "Is this your way?"
I said nothing and headed toward the building.
