by Cassie Cole
I cringed at the realization. I didn’t want to do it. Not that.
But I didn’t really have a choice.
I mustered the best of my acting ability and took a deep breath. “I was a cop. In the LAPD. Worked there several years before they caught me.”
Nose waited for me to say more. “Caught you doing what?”
Each word I said was like a fresh dagger wound to the gut, but I said them anyways.
“I was on the take.”
No I wasn’t.
“You know how it is. Some free food here. Cash payments for extra patrols there.”
I was better than that.
“All cops did it, you know?”
I never did it.
“It wasn’t unusual. Just an extra bonus for those of us who risk our asses out there every day. We deserved it.”
Corrupt cops deserve nothing.
“Until I got caught,” I said with a long sigh. “Had a rookie partner with a stick up his ass. I tried to show him the ropes but he wouldn’t play ball. Ended up recording me behind my back and reporting it all to Internal Affairs. Big investigation started spinning up. So I ran.”
Bleach’s mouth was hanging open by the end. “What’d you do to the kid?”
“Nothing,” I said. Then I added, “Only ‘cause I skipped town before I could make him pay. Little twerp is probably still on the force out there, tattling on his partners.”
They looked at each other as if they hadn’t expected to hear a legitimate explanation. Nose frowned down at me behind that big swollen schnoz.
“So if we call around Los Angeles, or do an internet search or something, we’d find a whole bunch of info on you? A dirty cop who fled?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Corrupt cops make the whole force look bad. And maybe you don’t know this, but the LAPD already has a shitty reputation. Once I disappeared they were happy to let the investigation do the same.”
“Convenient,” Bleach said.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing convenient about a problem going away. You know what I mean?”
Nose stood up straight and stuck his hands in his pockets. Bleach chewed on the inside of his lip. Considering things.
I was real close. I just had to hammer it home. I tilted my chair back on all fours and leaned my arms on the desk.
“Listen. I understand this makes you guys nervous. Nobody wants a guy like me on their payroll. Too much heat, especially for a place as nice as the Volga. So if this history means you have to pass me over for the promotion…” I spread my hands. “I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll understand.”
Nose glanced up at the ceiling. No, not the ceiling—up at the camera in the corner behind me. He was listening to someone speak in the ear piece dangling down his neck. After a moment he looked away.
Ahh. So someone was watching my little interview after all.
“You’re exactly the kind of guy we look for,” Bleach said, though it sounded like someone else’s words spoken with his mouth. “Someone who knows the value of leverage.”
“But,” Nose added, “there’s no bribes at the Volga. None taken, none given. In this security role you’ll be paid plenty that you won’t need to skim.”
Yeah, I’ll be paid $16 million.
“Understood,” I said.
They talked a little more about the responsibilities involved. Who I would report to, where I’d enter the casino. Instructions on visiting a tailor to get measured for the black suits they all wore.
I listened with only half an ear because I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. Claiming I was a dirty cop was the last thing I would have ever done, and the aftermath of such a lie left me feeling like I was covered in grease.
I hope it’s all worth it, I thought as I shook their hands and was escorted out.
25
Sage
It was the longest week of my life.
I considered myself a patient woman. I could put something out of my mind and focus on the day-to-day tasks of my life. That happened often when I booked a gig and had to wait several days to go on stage. I’d gotten good at waiting. Waiting for something was always harder than the thing itself, whether it was a first date or a final exam or a multi-million dollar casino heist.
But this was something totally different. A life changing event was only days away and I couldn’t take my mind off it. Like a graduation, wedding, and child birth all wrapped into one. Except what I would be holding in my arms wouldn’t be a newborn baby, it would be fresh stacks of hundred dollar bills.
Eventually I gave in and started fantasizing about the money, how I would spend it. I could get my own place where I didn’t have to deal with Angela hogging our shitty apartment Wi-Fi, or spending hours at a time on the phone in the bathroom while the shower ran to cover her conversation. I could get a place with a balcony facing west so I could watch the sun set over the Nevada mountains. There were some nice condos with rooftop decks I’d seen advertised.
Shoot, I didn’t even need to stay here. I could go anywhere I wanted. The country, and even the world, was mine to explore.
I daydreamed about the other small luxuries I could buy. My own car, namely. Nothing fancy, just something to get me from Point A to Point B. Okay, maybe something flashier than that. A convertible. Nah, maybe not. My hair would get all messy with the top down.
Or maybe I would just hire a personal stylist to do my hair every day and twice on Saturdays.
Then of course there was the big stuff. A record production with Michel. A marketing team to promote me around the world and garner interest in agents and bigger labels. Maybe even scheduling a multi-city tour, singing across the country. I sat at my desk and plotted out the cities I would visit in Google Maps: Phoenix, then Dallas, then up to Oklahoma City, St. Louis, and Chicago. Then over to the big northeast cities I’d never been to: Philly, New York, Boston.
So many doors opened with the money we were going to steal.
Of course, I also had a lot of time to think about the creative ways the Russian mob might punish four thieves. The terrible, horror-inducing methods of killing that you only saw in movies like Saw or Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Those intrusive thoughts liked to creep into my head when I was trying to sleep at night, or when I caught Zeke staring at me extra long on my shift.
But it was worth the risk. I was certain of that now.
I was stuck in life. Too much work and not enough money. I could keep making the rounds at the dingy little lounges around town but the odds of me making it big that way were slim. I needed to take control of my life. Set myself on a proper course.
Mom may not have been keen on me robbing a Russian oligarch, but she would have approved of me shooting for my dreams. I knew that with every fiber of my soul.
I also spent the week thinking about what I’d overheard from Eddie.
Part of me wanted to pretend like I’d misheard him. That it wasn’t what I thought, that he was talking about some other job. But the odds of that were low, and I knew I was being silly. He’d mentioned cash, and Saturday. He’d also mentioned having a car ready. Was he planning on double crossing us and stealing all the money? Making a getaway in a different car?
Or worse: was he turning us in to Yegorovich?
I wanted to confront him but I was terrified of what answer I would get. I didn’t think he would hurt me… But you never knew what someone might do when backed into a corner.
And of course I still had feelings for him, which only complicated things. The competing emotions clashed in my head and left me feeling exhausted.
The week dragged on even worse because Bryce insisted on radio silence until he gave the word. We were supposed to be focusing on our individual tasks before we met up again, but my task—switching my shift—was already done and now I had nothing to do but wait, stewing alone with my intrusive thoughts.
The word came from Bryce on Thursday morning: Meet for breakfast in an hour. He gave an address, which turned out to
be an abandoned warehouse east of the Vegas strip. Nobody offered to give me a ride, and I didn’t want to break radio silence or be a burden, so I took an Uber there.
Well, not directly there. I had the car drop me off at a gas station three blocks away and walk the rest. I wrapped my coat around myself tight and tried not to make eye contact with the men loitering on the street. This wasn’t the best part of town.
Bryce was waiting in the door to the warehouse, waving as I approached. “Come in, come in,” he said, ushering me inside.
My eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dimmer light. It was a massive space, mostly empty except for some wooden walls erected in the middle of the room. It looked like a movie set, where the walls were held up by wooden feet that could be knocked over with a gentle push.
I was the last one there. Eddie and Xander were standing around the scene chatting quietly. Only when I got closer did I realize what I was looking at.
“Ta-da!” Bryce said.
“It’s just like the actual hall in the casino!” I said.
He held up a finger. “It’s exactly like it, measured precisely to the dimensions of Eddie’s blueprints. You’ll have to use your imagination for the elevators, but the rest…”
“The elevators don’t matter,” Xander said. “This is great, Bryce.”
“Thanks!” He disappeared around the corner and returned pushing a hand cart ahead of him. Two wooden crates were stacked on top, covered loosely by a white sheet.
“It looks exactly like the one with the money,” I said. “How did you get it so perfect?”
“You gave me a good description,” he said. “Plus I’ve seen old wooden crates get disposed of by the back dumpsters. They’re all about the same, fortunately for us. Now, I’ve filled it with books from the used book store down the street. The weight is a guestimate.”
Eddie took hold of it and pushed it back and forth. “Feels about right. Although I have no frame of reference. It’s not often I’m pushing around $16 mil.”
“So?” Bryce asked. “How’s the new job going?”
Eddie flipped his coat breasts out. “Like the threads, huh? It’s going well.” He fished in one pocket. “Got the key to the east loading dock, too.”
He tossed it to Xander, who caught it against his chest and grinned.
“What about Saturday’s shift?” I asked. “Are you the money guy?”
He grimaced. “Maybe, maybe not. They keep things fluid, and they rotate men on and off jobs so nobody’s doing the same thing twice. And they don’t announce the specific shifts until the morning of. So I won’t know until then.”
“And if you aren’t the money man this Saturday?” Bryce asked.
“Then we push it to the next Saturday. Or the one after that.”
Bryce ran a hand through his blond hair. “We can’t push the job because this weekend is the poker tournament.”
Eddie shrugged. “Then we find a different way to distract Yegorovich on a different Saturday. Or I think of something else.”
“What, you’ll just wing it?” Bryce said. “We need a plan ahead of time.”
“If you’ve got one, I’m all ears,” Eddie said.
“Insist on taking that shift. Be proactive.”
Eddie scoffed. “And tip them off that I want to get close to their money laundering scheme? Hard pass.”
“Guys, guys,” Xander said, patting the air with his palms. “Let’s worry about what we can control. We’re here to cram for the exam, right?”
Bryce took a moment to regain his composure. “Right. We’re going to practice the switcharoo all day. Nobody has to be at the Volga until tonight, right?”
I glanced at the time. It was 9:15am. “We’re really going to practice for 10 hours?”
“Damn right we are. That’s how you get to Carnegie Hall.” Bryce walked over to our life-size hall model and tapped the wooden wall. “This is the stage entrance where the dummy cart will come through. You three can all play yourselves and I’ll play the part of the guard we have to distract. Let’s get started.”
“I don’t have a tray of drinks.”
“Then you’ll just have to practice your acting.”
We all got into position and then ran through the scenario once. Bryce walked ahead of one hand cart while Eddie pushed it from behind. When they were close to my door—and actual door with hinges screwed into the wood—I pushed through and tackled Bryce, knocking him to the floor. I landed on top of him and giggled at how silly it felt, but Bryce grunted and winced.
I realized where my knee had landed. “Oh shoot, sorry!” I said, removing it from his crotch.
“It’s. Fine,” he croaked. “Let’s dial back the realism, alright?”
Xander peeked out the other door. “So when do I come in with the dummy cart?”
Bryce got to his feet. “The moment you see me, the guard, go down.”
We started over and tried again. This time I was a little more gentle with Bryce, though I still landed on top of him and gave him a lusty grin. A girl could get used to this.
“Dude, you have to be faster,” Eddie was saying.
“It’s real tough for me to swap carts when you’re comin’ from that direction…” Xander protested.
Bryce got back up. “That’s why we’re practicing. Let’s do some dry runs of just the swap.”
That was the focus of the next hour of practice. Even with four of us helping it was difficult to get the dummy cart into position and the real cart out the door to the east loading dock. The carts themselves didn’t help; the wheels could swivel 360 degrees, but not very easily. Changing the cart’s direction suddenly was tougher than it looked.
“You have to let go of the cart,” Eddie said. “Essentially roll it into position while coming around the side to grab the real cart.”
“I’m doin’ the best I can.”
It was repetitive. It was mind-numbingly boring, especially for someone like me who wasn’t involved in the switch itself. But eventually we helped Xander get to the point where he could push the dummy cart into position and exit with the real cart in 15 seconds.
Bryce sighed. “Not nearly fast enough.”
“Guys, I don’t want to say it, but I think this plan isn’t gunna work,” Xander said. “I know it seems like I’m the weak link here…”
“No, it’s not you,” Bryce agreed. “It’s the carts. They’re too big and cumbersome to switch quickly. It’s not like Indiana Jones swapping the golden idol with a bag of sand.”
I stared at him. “What golden idol?”
“You know, the one from the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark.” His eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”
“I’m not into science fiction.”
All three of them sputtered. “Science fiction?” Bryce demanded.
“It’s an action movie!” Eddie said.
“Whatever it is, it’s not my thing.”
Bryce waved his hands in the air. “Alright guys, the job’s off. We need to find a new waitress to distract the guard. Let’s pack it up and start over from scratch.”
I playfully shoved him.
Xander was still frowning down at the carts. “What if we don’t take the real cart across the hall?”
“How do you mean?”
Xander positioned the carts then stepped back. “You said these doors are the exact dimensions? The door to the stage area is wide enough for both carts. Rather than trying to push one cart into position and then escape toward the other door, we can push the dummy cart into position and pull the real one back into the stage area. That eliminates the need for me to move at all, which is the big bottleneck in the whole thing.”
He demonstrated real quick: he pushed the dummy cart into the hall ahead of the real cart, then grabbed the real cart and yanked it back into the stage area. It was still clumsy but this process was much faster.
“Then when do we take the money to the dock?” I asked.
�
��Whenever we want,” Xander said. “The dummy cart is taken downstairs in the service elevator. Then we push the real cart across to the dock without a rush. Which makes it easier to blend in with the guard on the dock itself: we won’t look like we’re running away with all their money.”
Bryce scratched his chin like an art critic examining a post-modern piece. “I don’t like changing the plan two days before we go.”
“Sometimes you have to adjust on the fly,” Eddie said.
It took a few seconds but Bryce came around. “Alright. Let’s keep practicing.”
We worked all morning on the new switch plan. It was much simpler since Xander didn’t have to do any moving: push the dummy cart into the hall, then pull the real cart back. There was even a time or two where I tackled Bryce and looked up without realizing the switch had already been made. We were making progress.
We took a break for lunch, which ended up being chicken salad sandwiches Bryce had made himself. I wolfed three of them down—they had little bits of grapes in them and I was famished from a morning of tackling. The three boys argued over which Indiana Jones movie was the best while I listened quietly. In the end I agreed to sit down and watch the movie with them if our heist was successful.
“But you have to watch a movie of my choosing in return,” I said.
Eddie groaned. “You’re going to choose a romantic comedy, aren’t you?”
“I don’t mind rom coms,” Xander said. “As long as they’re funny.”
“I’ll keep it a surprise,” I said. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
We got back to work practicing. It was boring and repetitive, but we did need the practice since it was the most important part of the heist. Bryce and I discussed the best way to tackle the guard: whether to knock him back past the cart, or twist him so that he fell farther up the hall away from the carts.
Before we knew it my phone alarm was going off. “Holy moly. It’s 5:30 already.”
Xander whistled. “No wonder my back aches so much.” He knuckled his lower back and made a noise like choking cat.
“I’ve got to leave for my shift too,” Bryce said. “Guess that’s as good a time as any to call it a night.”