Page 70 of Dick

“Hell no. But I bought some a long time ago. It’ll pass for real, though.”

“You bought counterfeit money? On purpose?”

“Bought $5,000,000 worth. It’s good money for show. Paid $50,000 for it. I’ve used it over and over.”

I sat and thought about all of the novels I had read over the years, and how the hero and the heroine always got away with similar heists. While lost in a daydream about one of the books, an idea came to me, causing me to chuckle a laugh. “I’ve got another idea that might just make this a foolproof plan and save you $500,000.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well,” I said. “It involves a fake 10 carat stone, and if I can get it to work, it just might save you your $500,000 in cash.”

“Exchange stones?” he asked. “Deny the buy?”

“Something like that. Exchange stones, go to the bathroom. My accomplice walks out with the money. Everything would have to go perfect to do the switch, but it might work. I’ll need a fake 10 carat stone and a pair of reading glasses.”

He scrunched his nose. “Reading glasses?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I got this.”

He nodded. “I like it. A lot.”

I admired his physique and imagined us as an actual couple. Husband and wife, doing jobs and giving the money – part of it, at least – to people who really needed it. “I have more questions.”

He grinned his shitty smirk. “I’m all ears.”

“How am I going to carry $4,000,000.”

“A million bucks in $100 bills only weighs 20 pounds. So four weighs 80 pounds. Two forty pound bags.”

I assumed he knew what he was talking about, but it sure didn’t seem right. “Twenty pounds? That doesn’t seem like much.”

“Believe me, that’s what it weighs. It’ll be like carrying a few bags of groceries. And, you’ll have help.”

“Okay, so what if there aren’t any cops? What if we’re scared for nothing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It’s that much better. We see who shows up. Maybe it’s Danny DeVito, maybe someone else. Hell, maybe it’s fucking Drake or Duc. But whoever it is will believe the money’s real, and as long as the diamond’s real, I’ve got my money back, and I’m up $2,000,000 or so.

“So we can’t lose?”

“We can. We can get arrested for money laundering, possession of stolen property. Charged with burglarizing the football player’s house. Possession of and use of counterfeit money in the furtherance of a crime. Hell, the list is long. State charges Federal charges. Probably talking about twenty years to life if we get caught. Which brings me to the last part.”

“Which is?” I asked.

He stopped pacing. “Are you in, or are you out?”

I stood up, raised my hand in the air, and turned my palm to face him. “I’m in. All the way.”

I was twenty-four years old. I had spent 16 of those years reading everything from Nancy Drew books to Robert Ludlum’s books on Jason Bourne. I’d even read all of the Jack Reacher novels by Lee Child. My dream had always been to be involved in something. This was my one and only chance to do it.

He slapped his hand against mine. “That’s my girl.”

After hearing him say that, they could arrest me and toss me in prison. I wouldn’t care. I was on top of the world.