#22 Roll-O

Bill turned his pockets inside out. He checked again under the floor mats, the seats and in the center console. No more quarters. The clock on the wall read 8:10pm. The laundromat closed at 9pm. He needed quarters but the change machine in Fast Wash Fast Dry was broken and any humans that did work there were long gone.
Bill asked the other two people doing laundry to change his ten. One man didn't have enough quarters. Even when Bill said he could keep the change, the man eyed him warily and said he "didn't like feelin' indebted to no man".
"What is this, a cowboy flick?" he thought to himself.
The woman working four dryers at once, obviously a guest in America didn't speak a lick of English.
Bill went outside. All the other businesses in sight had closed for the night. Sweat broke out on his brow and his heart began racing.
"I need my lucky shirt. I need my lucky shirt."
All Bill could think about was tomorrow's job interview. It was the promotion he had been wanting for three years and he finally got noticed! The last project he led caught the right VP's eye and now this.
But it would all be for nothing if he didn't have his lucky shirt on. He needed that shirt.
Bill decided to drive the quarter mile to the nearest gas station. Hopefully he would have enough time to get back and dry his clothes a little. He could hang his shirt to dry overnight.

"This ain't a bank, man," the man behind the bulletproof glass said.
"I know, but if you would just give me some quarters..."
"Yeah?" he interrupted. "If I just give you some quarters, then what?"
"You'll never seen me again. I promise."
"No one might ever see you again, anyway," the attendant said. He raised a handgun from below the counter and aimed it at me.
"Whoah!" Bill put both hands, palms outward toward the man.
"I have an idea," the attendant said. "I have a roll of quarters right here." He slapped it down on the counter. "It's your for fifty bucks."
What?" Bill asked.
"You heard me."
"Twenty."
"Forty-five because you seem like a nice guy."
"Twenty-five," Bill offered.
"Ok, ok. Forty."
"Thirty. That's my last offer. Take it or leave it."
"Sorry. Forty dollars and I'm not budging."
Bill turned and walked away. "I'll look elsewhere then.
As Bill opened his car door and prepared to slip inside, the man called out to him to come back. "Your offer is fair. Thirty is a fine amount. Sold!"

Bill fumed all the way back to laundromat. It was 8:30pm by the time he pulled in. Hands buried in his sweatshirt pockets, hood pulled up over his head he walked toward the building.
A door opened from a car he hadn't noticed before and a powerful looking man got out. Not in a strong way but a commanding, in-charge kind of way. Bill half-expected the man to issue him some orders. And then he did.
"Your keys and wallet, please."
"What?" Bill stammered.
"You heard me. Valuables. Put them in this bag." He handed Bill a thin plastic grocery store style bag.
Bill took the bag. He reached into his pants pocket and wrapped his fingers around the roll of quarters. It worked in the movies. Then he pulled it out and back and socked Mr. Important will all his might.
Mr I. hit the asphalt pretty hard. He tried to rise but fell back with a thud. Bill looked at the rolled coin in his hand. Smiling he said, "Best thirty bucks I ever spent."