The Heist

Loraine Sanchez finally called me back to discuss the results. She asked me if I’d rather come into the hospital to discuss them (could they really be that bad?), or if I wanted her to tell me on the phone. I decided on the latter. It’s much easier that way; at least I thought it might be.

“Very well, Miss Mill—Ashlee. I have good news, or bad news, depending upon the way you look at it.”

“Yes, Dr. Sanchez, what is it?” I was hopeful…for negative results.

“Well, Ashlee, the results came back. Positive.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. I was secretly, or not so secretly, hoping that she wasn’t sure.

“Yes, Ashlee, I’m positive that the results are positive.”

So, here I am, a pregnant twenty-one year old single woman with no job. Boy, am I ever going to make a good mom. Wait, I don’t have to be a mom. I can abort it — no, adoption…there’s always that… The thoughts rang in my head. Keep it, abort it, or give it up for adoption.

I decided on the last option. Now, on to making all the arrangements. I wonder what Mom and Daddy will think. Oh, boy, to tell my brother...

*~*~*~*

“Erik, you’re letting your sister in on it?” Julian asked me. The rest of the boys were here. We were only waiting for my sister’s arrival.

“I had to.”

“Why?” asked some guy I didn’t know, with black, shaggy hair and blue eyes. His name is Charles. He’s twenty-six and used to work for security for the bank we’re visiting.

“Trust me, Charles, you don’t know my sister. She’s very stubborn and —”

“I’m what?” There she stood. My darling sister, in her perfect pearly white pants. Who wears white pants? Honestly.

All the guys whistled at the sight of her. Apparently my little sister is quite the, and I quote, “looker.” (Who says that?)

So, now here are five people total, discussing a plan to break into a building to rob it. There will have to be hostages. Out of five, only three people know the real reason behind the heist. God, I’m in deep shit. Three is still a lot of people. Plus, I don’t know everyone here. (Well, okay, there’s only one person I don’t know personally).

Of course, my real objective has nothing to do with money. I want to prove my innocence of one crime by committing another. Oh, boy, what a conundrum.

“Okay, so on this day, we’ll meet at this location,” Julian pointed to a location on a map “and then we’ll get the materials from Charles’ place. Got it?”

“Yes!” my sister nearly shouted. She’s so enthusiastic about the whole damned thing. She probably thinks it’s a good thing that I got convicted for a crime I’m innocent of, just so she can have this adventure. Elizabeth’s such a sadist.

“Erik?” Julian asked impatiently.

“Huh?” I asked…or answered, depending on your view.

“Jeez, man, Julian’s been trying to get your attention for a while now.”

Apparently I must have zoned out, they’re saying. Julian was asking if I was okay with the plan. It’s funny, it’s my issue, yet Julian’s making all the plans. Whatever, it’s not as if I care or anything. It takes a lot of stress off my shoulders.

The meeting’s over until tomorrow.

~*~*~*~

I decided I should tell my father about my problem today. Unfortunately, he’s away, working on some kind of case. He has to go all the way to Hannah, a five hour drive from here. I’d tell my mother, but she’s working on her next lecture. As if mothers aren’t good at those.

Instead, I called my medical student brother, Jonathan, over. He’s on his way over at this very moment.

The jerk got to my place twenty minutes late. Boy was I ever pissed right off. Even after he explained about his little fender bender with a man named Charles Banfield. What kind of name is that? It sounds so prissy rich. Not that I don’t come from money or anything, but at least I don’t have a wealthy sounding name.

Apparently Banfield wasn’t too happy about the whole ordeal. Luckily Jon managed to calm the guy down. Well, my brother referred to him as an “asshole prick” along with other colorful words that I’m not even going to bother saying.

I decided to get right to the point with my brother (after he shut up, that is). “Jon, I need to tell you something. Please don’t tell Mom or Dad. Let me.”

He stopped ranting nearly immediately. “What? Tell me, Ash!” Yes, Jon, I decided to say I had to tell you something, now I’m not going to. Idiot men.

“It happened again.” I didn’t need to tell him what “it” was. He knew.

“And? Did you report it?” His words weren’t concerned, but the tone was.

“Yes, Jon. But there’s something else.”

“What? Tell me, Ashlee. I’m dying to know.” He sounded a tad bit sarcastic. What an asshole. I’m sure if that Banfield guy was my brother, he wouldn’t be acting like such a prick right now.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“You know, Jon. I’m with child. Bun in the oven,” I went on with all these pregnancy euphemisms.

“I know what that means, Ash. I’m not retarded. You’re pregnant?! How?”

“Um…the birds and the bees?” And he’s not retarded? Sounds like it to me.

“Is it his?” my brother asked. Now he’s sounding like a brother, almost. Nearly there, Jon.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to kill that bastard!” Now he’s all brotherly.

I explained to him that in order to kill the bastard, he’d first need to know his name and where he hung out and stuff. Jon didn’t seem worried about that. He said he knew people. Yes, because Charles “fender bender” Banfield is going to help him. Not that they even really know each other. What kind of people would a medical student know? Honestly, men are such idiots. Then again, that goes without saying.

*~*~*~*

“Sorry I’m late guys.”

“What took you, Charles?”

“I got into some car accident with some guy in a red convertible.” He then went on to explain the accident in detail, telling us that the guy was really nice about Charles ruining his car. Apparently, Charles was quite a dick to this Jonathan Miller guy, though.

We explained to Charles that he better get the whole thing sorted out. Otherwise, law enforcement might go after him.

“Wait, Charles, did you say Miller?” My sister and I asked at the same time.

“Yeah, Jonathan Miller.” Banfield explained.

“Hmm,” said Elizabeth, “my physics professor is a Miller. I think she has a son named Jonathan, too.”

“That’s odd. Is she married to a man named Anthony?” I asked my sister directly.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’ll tell you some other time.”