“So this is how it’s going to be?” The nerve of him to be confrontational.
Fantine rolled her eyes. He was trying to instigate an argument for attention. It dawned on her that he’d never changed since they met in that smoky bar in the middle of the Bronx—still struggling to get in an extra game on that old Galaga arcade game even when it wasn’t his turn. Pete was mentally nine years old and his parents never let him step out of range. Now, as an adult, without experience, a guy like him got eaten alive the minute the real world got too real. That was a bright spot in Fantine’s life; she never had to worry about the grown-up situations because they had always been there. Sure, it hurt to be so mad at Pete—he was the first friend of the same age she ever had—but it didn’t excuse him.
Fantine turned her chair. “Look. I get it. You think sorry and puppy dog faces solve your problems, and to be honest, maybe it does with most of the people you know. With me? Not so much.” She stood. “You want to make it up to me? Shut the fuck up, do your part, and leave me the fuck alone when we’re all done with this bullshit. Stop moping like you’ve got the burden here.”
“I had no other choice.”
“You’ve explained yourself a thousand times. I don’t give a shit, Pete.” She crossed her arms. “I’ll say it one more time: Business? Talk. No? Beat it. I lost my job today, so I need to treat this like it’s my career again or I’ll scream.”
“Fine, fine.” Pete reached into a back pocket and held out a pamphlet. “There was a fuck up.”
Fantine snatched the pamphlet away. It was for a security system a rival company put together. They didn’t offer anything beyond what Fantine’s former employer did, but the superficial differences could lead to new, awful places. “Please tell me this doesn’t mean...”
“That your company has nothing to do with this place?” Pete frowned. “Sorry.”
Fantine had to laugh. “Wow, just wow.” She thumbed through the pamphlet. “You people are fucking idiots. It’s becoming obvious that my mom must have done a lot of planning for your dad.” That was trouble because Fantine knew she was nowhere near as crafty or strategy-minded as her mother. Had she been involved, Fantine’s mother would have finished the job already and been on a flight to somewhere tropical with the family in tow. She was better at thinking on her feet, Fantine; not so much.
Back at her desk, Fantine opened a file document with a rough draft of instructions for industrial-grade locks. “Thankfully, this kind of crap gets copied all the time. My place totally has their own version of these locks and keypad combos.”
Pete ventured further into the room—only a few steps. “Are they the same?”
“No. Never the same, but built in the same spirit—if that makes sense. The software is proprietary, but there are only so many ways you’re going to build a lock. Hell, the basic concept hasn’t really been improved on since they decided that something small should keep people from opening something big to get to something small.” Fantine tied her hair back into a loose ponytail. “This is an industry that depends on symmetry. Locksmiths couldn’t be in business if absolutely everything was different.”
Pete nodded then frowned again. “I’m not following.”
“It means I can still open your stupid locks. Just because I work for one place, doesn’t mean I can’t figure out another product. Unless these guys are rocking retinal scanners.” Fantine opened the pamphlet and pointed at a page detailing scanners and prices. She dug into the files on her computer and spotted the retinal scanner kiosks on the floorplan. “And of course they are.”
Pete leaned in. “Is there a way around that?”
Fantine thought. “Maybe...there are ways to reproduce iris patterns, but I’m not rich enough to have that kind of tech. I’m also not a hacker, so it isn’t like I can get my hands on the data without looping someone else in.” She picked up a pencil and gnawed on the end. “Unless they’re really dumb and keep all the security info on the employee IDs. It’s a corner cut. You store the bulk of info on the ID and cross check only a few identifying items so you keep network storage costs low.” It was a long shot, but if Aleksei ran things so ramshackle, maybe whoever was collecting fancy sperm did too.
Pete sat at the edge of Fantine’s bed. He picked up the bolt from a door lock Fantine disassembled earlier. “That’s some James Bond shit, right there.”
Fantine shrugged. “I don’t see another way. Not like your dad is going to say, Oh, can’t do it? Okay, cool,” she mimicked Aleksei’s accent. “We’re going to have go to the sperm bank first thing in the morning.”
Pete jerked his head up. “We?”
“Yep, we.”
“Why we?”
Fantine turned to him with a grin. “Nobody’s believing that I’m there to make a deposit. Besides, if your asshole father won’t get me a team, then I call dibs on calling in favors. You luck out since I have a total of zero other choices.”
The words took a minute to process for Pete. His eyes widened. “Nope.”
“Yep. I’ve already been there. It’s the only way.”
“Couldn’t you like, track an employee home or something?”
“We don’t have time. If your father wants this done as soon as possible, then it needs to happen tomorrow.” Fantine went back to her laptop. “Hell, there’s already the massive problem with your dad having me there to literally talk about the damn heist. Who does that, by the way?”
Pete frowned. “Yeah, he’s got a way of strong-arming.” He stared at the wall for a minute. “To be honest, I have no idea how he’s managed to live this long.”
Fantine started to highlight bits and pieces of text she thought would be useful in a few documents. “You folks are subtle like a whale in a kiddie pool.” Things were warm between them again, but Fantine fought the urge to act like anything was on the mend. No—she wouldn’t let a few quips be a bridge. “Tell me, what’s the real market value of the product we’re lifting? Your dad mentioned it would be twenty mil flat. Pretty impressed with my cut to be honest.”
Pete cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s surprising how much Ivy League jizz is worth. Especially, well...I can’t get into that.”
Fantine closed her eyes. Fought that bloom of heat running from her gut and up her throat. They were lying. The gig was worth less, worth more, or there was worse at the end of the road for her. The problem of getting product out was already bothering her. Would they load it all into a van? Did Aleksei expect all five-foot-five of her to carry gallons of this stuff? “Get into what?” Fantine forced out, “Why exactly are captains of industry and elite thinkers giving up their spunk without anything in return?”
“What makes you say that?” Pete stepped back.
Fantine could see he was keeping more from her, but she decided the less she knew the better. Her job was to open the doors. How Aleksei or Pete got a bead on this whole sperm racket wasn’t her problem. “Well, if I owned a dick that leaked money, I’d sort of set up a private enterprise, you know?”
“It isn’t like the whole thing is common knowledge.” Pete waved it off. “Besides, most book-smart dudes are fucking rubes.”
“So anyway,” Fantine said as she spun back around. “Get some sleep. You steered the conversation away from it, but you’re totally going to spank into a cup tomorrow.”
Pete cringed. “Dude.”
“Get out.”
Pete did as he was told. Even closed the door on his way out like a gentleman.
Fantine groaned and lifted her hood over her head. She was falling into it again. No. This wasn’t the way she’d allow it to go. She stood up and collected her jacket and messenger bag—lighter now. For all her navel-gazing and running around, it had been a little while since she visited her father. She needed a sane voice in her life.
8
“The stranger returns!” Jae sat watching a Korean soap opera with subtitles. He sipped on a glass of water. Smacked his lips. “You finally got around to remembering you
had a father?” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his chin. That look worked wonders on Fantine as a teenager, now it only made her want to laugh.
Fantine set her bag down on his bed. She ignored the judging glare. If anything, it made her feel comfortable. “Why the hell are you watching that?” Onscreen, a couple was staring at each other longingly, so close to kissing. Then at the absolute last millisecond the couple both turned away from one another. The girl lamented about something. Fantine didn’t speak Korean, but it was probably some garbage about her family never allowing her to love the guy because something, something, something.
Jae shrugged. “I was forgetting that there were people that looked like me in the world.” He pulled himself into a sitting position.
“Laying it on think, huh?” Fantine fetched a beer from her bag. Handed it to her father. “This help?” She snatched a cushion from a chair and positioned it behind Jae.
He took the beer with a small nod. Held it back up to her. “You act like these hands can open this goddamn thing.”
Fantine smirked and opened the bottle with a twist. “You whine like a baby.” She handed it over.
“I am a baby. That’s what happens when we get old. We all turn into toddlers. Gonna need diapers soon.”
“Toddlers are easier to deal with.” Fantine pulled a chair next to her father and slumped into it. The back pinched her shoulders, but she dealt with it.
Jae took a small sip of his beer and smiled. “Took my pills for the day, but I can’t say I care if this interferes with anything.” He smiled. “Your mother hated beer. Said it was for poor people.”
“Yet we lived in a two-bedroom apartment my whole life.”
“She was cheap.”
Fantine laughed. “No shit.”
They sat in silence. The soap opera was hitting some kind of climax involving forced declarations of saccharine love. Fantine didn’t bother to read the subtitles. She tucked her legs up and tried to lean her head on her hand, but the armchair fought her all the way. In the hallway, someone rolled by on a rickety wheelchair. Close behind, a woman in a house dress shambled and muttered something about her sister taking all her money and her husband.
“So what do you want?” Jae took another pull from his beer.
“I’m here to hang out.” Fantine lowered her head.
“After normal visiting hours? How did you even get up here?”
“Ninja skills. Also, that nice nurse is on duty. She always lets me slide.” Fantine breathed. “I lost my job today.”
“And?”
Fantine looked at Jae. “And what?”
Jae shook his head. “Last time I saw you, you got in a car with some shady types. I was married to your mother long enough to know what that meant.” He jabbed an elbow into her forearm. “How was it? Big score?” Jae smiled.
“I haven’t done it yet.” Fantine sat up. “This is different, you know, serious.”
“Crime tends to be serious.”
“These guys are desperate and stupid.” Fantine fiddled with the cap on her water bottle. “They have no plan aside from having me do all the work.”
“Most criminals aren’t smart, Fan.”
“So you’re saying I’m stupid?”
Jae shook his head. “I said most. Others are only desperate.” Jae shrugged. “There’s still a fine line between desperate and stupid.”
They watched the soap opera’s credits roll. Then commercials for random foods started. The format was jarring—like some kind of sugar-fueled nightmare. Jae picked up the remote and flipped the channel over to local news. He lowered the volume. On screen, a blonde was talking sternly at the camera about Superstorm Sandy.
Jae dropped the remote and looked to Fantine. “So no other choice, huh?”
Fantine took a long pull from a water bottle. She’d rather snatch up a beer, but she knew better. Next time, she promised herself. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “No.”
Jae shrugged. “So do it and stop driving yourself crazy”
“That’s a simple answer. What happens after? What if this is a double cross and they shoot me in the head once they have what they want?”
The silence returned. The news was reporting an assault on a mechanic in Staten Island earlier in the week. Fantine ignored the screen and picked at the calloused skin on her hands. Jae sipped his beer. There were football previews on the news now. Jae shook his head and clicked his teeth as they showed an interview with Giants quarterback, Eli Manning.
Jae finally broke the silence. “There are a lot of what ifs in the world, Fan. Your mother was good at ignoring them, she always had an answer—and luck always seemed to find her.” He pointed the lip of his now empty beer bottle at her. “You always played it a little of both ways.” He smiled. “Reserved like me, but brash at the worst times like her. A bad combination.” Jae stood from his chair and tossed the bottle into the garbage can near the TV. He took care to cover it with a paper bag. “Do you have a gun, anything to protect yourself?”
“I don’t fuck with guns, Dad.” Fantine stood up and stretched out. The chair had been unreasonably uncomfortable. “I have a knife.”
Jae walked over to his dresser. He opened a drawer and rooted around loose socks. “I have something. Ah, here.” He produced a leather coin purse and opened it. Reached inside and pulled out a small, silver key. “You remember that bank your mom never hit, the one on Castle Hill in the Bronx?”
Fantine thought about it. It was a long time ago, but she remembered her mother mentioning she never wanted to mess with one bank in particular, but the details were lost on her. She shook her head. “She never let me in on bank jobs, only small stuff.”
Jae nodded. “Well, she had a safety deposit box with this bank. Was always scared if she did a job on them, they’d take it away if she was caught.” He slipped the key into Fantine’s hand. “Go there with something you can hide a lot in—like one of those ridiculous purses I see the young girls with. Use whatever you can. She would have wanted you to have a leg up.”
Fantine stared at the key. “Did Mom have a gun at the bank? Isn’t that sort of stupid?”
“Brash.” Jae grinned. “It’s why I loved her. Well, the rack didn’t hurt.”
She slipped the key into her pocket. “You’re gross.”
“I’m allowed to be.” He reached over and took Fantine by the shoulders. Gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I wish that none of this was happening, Fan, but if it has to happen, I know you can make it work in your favor. Just remember the mistakes she made, and do better. It’s what she would have wanted you to do.”
“I miss her.” It came out before she could let herself wall it back up.
Jae nodded. “Me, too. Every time I look at you, I miss her a little more.”
“I’m sorry I got mixed up in all of this.” Fantine felt like crying, but she knew better. Her father would never let her live it down.
“Never be sorry for being yourself. That was one of the things I adored about your mother. She was who she wanted to be, no matter what. The brightest light in any room.” He took Fantine’s hand and kissed it. His eyes were wet. “Don’t you dare change.”
Fantine took Jae’s hands in hers and smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Feel better?”
“A little.”
“Good.” Jae gently pushed her away. “Now leave. I’ve been holding my gas the entire time you’ve been here.”
“Keep keeping it classy.” Fantine grabbed her bag. Came back around to give Jae a peck on the cheek. “I love you.”
He gave her a little smack on the cheek in return. “Back at yah, kid.”
Fantine left the room with a spring in her step. She was excited. Not about the job—no—she was aware that would be a miserable, miserable time. At the very least she had this moment with her dad. Something good to keep in mind in the middle of all that bad. She wondered if this is why her mother needed Jae in her life. That balance he mentioned, it worked.<
br />
Outside, Fantine stood at the corner and waited fifteen minutes to hail a cab. She decided they were the better choice than the bus. She’d get some sleep and head out first thing in the morning with Pete for his appointment. First, she’d get the badge. Second, her mother’s safety deposit box. Everything after that would be ad-libbed. The only problem with that were the other players. Pete was an idiot. Aleksei was a psychopath—also, idiot. The Twins were psychotic yes men. The Empire job money would dry up soon. If this all went right, then she’d have it made. Disappearing with her father would be simple.
If things went wrong, well, that was probably why she definitely needed to get to that safety deposit box.
9
October 27th, 2012—Battery Park—New York
Fantine enjoyed watching Pete squirm on the cheap plastic chair of the sperm bank waiting area. “Dude, it’s not like they’re taking a kidney.”
Pete crossed his legs and spent a solid twenty seconds deciding where to place his hands. “This is creepy.”
“Creepy?” She gave all her attention to the TV above them. They were playing “The Lost Boys” on the Spanish channel. “You get free porn and do your business in a cup, how is that creepy?” Her eyebrows arched. “This is like loser-Disneyland if you ask me.”
“Well, it’s just...There are things I like to have before I...”
Fantine held a hand up. “You know what? We’re veering into some weird-ass how Pete strokes it territory and I’m going to stop the car before we fly off the cliff. Cool?”
Pete nodded. Eyed the door that led into the space where they had the rooms occupied by donors. “This doesn’t freak you out?”
Fantine shook her head. “Nope. I’m more invested on whether this nurse shows up.” She shrugged. “Besides, not like anyone is asking me to jill-off in a strange place.”
No Happy Endings Page 6