He'd given some thought to simply hauling the garbage bags chanel bags themselves, just throwing them over a shoulder like Santa, one at a time, and walking hurriedly from wherever he was parked to his apartment. He could move the money in three trips and cut his exposure on the street. Two things stopped him. First, what if one ripped, and a million bucks hit the pavement? Every thug and wino in town would come out of the alleys, drawn like sharks to blood. Second, the sight of anyone hauling bags of what appeared to be trash into chanel handbags an apartment, as opposed to away from it, might be suspicious enough to attract the attention of the police.
     "What's in the bag, sir?" a cop might ask.
     "Nothing. Garbage. A million dollars." No answer seemed correct.
     So the plan was to be patient, take all the time that was necessary, move the loot in small loads, and not worry about how many trips might be required because the least important factor was Ray's fatigue. He could rest later.
     The terrifying part was the transferring of the money from one chanel bags bag to another while crouching over his trunk and trying not to look guilty. Fortunately, the garage was deserted. He crammed money into the tennis bag until it would barely zip, then slammed the trunk down, looked around as if he'd just smothered someone, and left.
     Perhaps a third of a garbage bag - three hundred thousand dollars. Much more than enough to get him arrested or knifed.
     Nonchalance was what he desperately wanted, but there was nothing fluid about his steps and movements. Eyes straight ahead, though cheapest louis vuitton damier ebene canvas the eyes wanted to dart up and down, right and left, nothing could be missed. A frightening teenager with studs in his nose stumbled by, stoned out of his wasted mind. Ray walked even faster, not sure if he had the nerves for eight or nine more trips to the parking garage.
     A drunk on a dark bench yelled something unintelligible at him. He lurched forward, then caught himself, and was thankful he had no gun. At that moment, he might've shot anything that moved. The cash cheap authentic louis vuitton bag outlet got heavier with each block, but he made it without incident. He spilled the money onto his bed, locked every door possible, and took another route back to his car.
     During the fifth trip, he was confronted by a deranged old man who jumped from the shadows and demanded, "What the hell are you doing?" He was holding something dark in his hand. Ray assumed it was a weapon with which to slaughter him.