I don’t even know what that means.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Henri
It only takes us 30 minutes to get to Monty’s. It’s still really busy even if it’s close to closing time. “Gramma’s car’s here.”
Oscar seems relieved. “Yeah. So we get some cash, then talk to her.”
“What if we get caught?”
“We’re not gonna get caught. And besides, most everyone’ll be drunk. It’s easy pickings.”
There are a bunch of men and a few women outside, smoking and talking loudly. Oscar’s right. They’re all very drunk.
I follow Oscar as he walks up to them. “Bum a smoke?” he says casually.
Without blinking, one of the guys hands him two. “One fer her,” he slurs as he winks at me.
I wrinkle my nose as I pluck the cigarette out of Oscar’s hand. “I need a light,” I say and about six lighters flick towards me.
I grin. This is starting to get fun. “Now which one do I want?”
While I’m distracting them, Oscar’s moved outside the circle, then rejoins it on the other side, cigarette tucked behind his ear. “We don’t have to time to actually smoke it,” he says to me. “We’ll do that later. Thanks guys.”
As we stroll towards the parking lot, he whispers, “I only picked up two wallets. Hopefully, they got cash in them.”
Crouching down behind a car, we check out the wallets. The first one is a dud - only 20 in it, but we hit paydirt on the second. “240 bucks!” I exclaim.
“Shh,” Oscar says sharply.
I bite my tongue at his superior tone of voice. Well almost. “I’m shushing, bossman.”
He pockets the money and this time I do get snooty. “Why do you get to keep the money?”
“I got the money, didn’t I?”
“Yes. But we’re partners.” I don’t know where the ‘partner’ thought came from and Oscar seems surprised too, but he digs the money out of his pocket and counts out five 20-dollar bills.
“In case we get separated,” he says, like it was his idea to share the money. Even so, my heart beats faster as I think of being without him. He’s so cool, the way he bummed the cigarettes, then took the wallets and dragged me away without ever having to light one. Good thing, because I’ve never smoked, never will and I probably would choke and get sick if I tried to.
As we pass the smokers, Oscar casually drops the wallets. No one notices.
We’re blocked by Tyler, gramma’s boyfriend, when we try to get inside. That’s how gramma met him. He’s the bouncer. “You’re underage, kid,” he says to me.
“We’re 21,” I retort.
Oscar rolls his eyes. “We need to talk to Elle. Matter of life or death.”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “If it was that important, why didn’t you call her?”
Oscar and I look at each other. “My phone’s dead,” he says.
“Mine’s at your dad’s house.” I heave a sigh. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Gramma doesn’t answer her phone when she’s working.”
“Gramma?” Tyler says.
Oh hell! “I mean auntie. She’s Auntie Elle.”
