The Heist

It is odd how nobody believes that I’m innocent. I guess I can’t blame them. The evidence planted against me was very compelling; if I had been on the jury, I’d have convicted me, too. But, of course, you can’t be on the jury for your own murder trial. That would be the silliest and most idiotic thing since Lady Gaga’s costume for the AMA’s. Or any performance, even.

Although, I’m rather perturbed that even my family, my flesh and blood, doesn’t believe me. How could the people that are supposed to know be best think that I am capable of those things?

I can still remember what her mom said at the trial.

Angela was a good girl. She always did her best in everything. She was kind to everyone. I don’t know how anyone could ravage her the way he did!

She proceeded to point at me, and my lawyer objected; to which the judge “sustained.”

Why am I thinking of this? I know it'll only stress me out.

Julian told me we'd dress as painters. Like in the movie Inside Man. Come to think of it, it seemed like all the plans were based on that movie. Well, to be quite honest, it was an awesome movie. Elizabeth forced me to watch it because "Clive Owen is so hot"...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I began to get ready to go to the bank. I slipped on a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt. Surprisingly it covered my bra very well. I decided to wear flip flops because they were easy to put on and take off. I was so very excited for the days when I get to wear maternity clothes. Well, to be honest, a lot of them aren't that bad these days.

"Miss Miller, the car is ready for you."

I thanked my driver and he escorted me out to the vehicle. I was capable of driving myself, but this granted me time to think to myself on the journey over to the bank.

- - - - - -

"Okay, men, we set out today," Julian told the men...and my sister.

"So, do we have code names or anything?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course, Eliza. We're just using numbers. I'm 0, you're 1, Charles is 2, Julian's 3 and Hank is 4."

"Well, that's lame."

Hank laughed. It was the first thing I'd heard from him in the entirety of our meetings. Elizabeth is right; it is lame. But it's better than coming up with stupid names.

We got in our painter's outfits and got ready to roll. Hank had "borrowed" someone's van and we had painted it and put a decal on it for a painting company. This would be our getaway car.

On the way over to the bank, Elizabeth asked if anyone would be staying behind in the vehicle.

"Yes, you'll stay behind."

"But! I wanted to go in the bank!"

"Calm down. Elizabeth, you're the most important part. You stay behind and wait for Julian and Hank. Charles and I are coming out with the hostages. Julian and Hank are carrying the goods back to the van. We'll meet back and headquarters as soon as possible."

"Fine. You're lucky you're coming out with them. Otherwise I'd leave you behind."

The guys laughed as we rounded the last corner before the bank.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Here we are, Miss," my driver said as he opened the car door for me.

"Thank you," I replied sincerely as he helped me out of the car. "You can leave. I may be a while. I'll call when I need you."

"Very well, Miss Ashlee."

I walked up to the building. It was a big, brownstone building with a few windows placed here and there. It was a bit rustic looking, but that was the style that the owner, Mr. Ellington, had wanted. The architects and designers had apparently reluctantly agreed to his requests.

I walked into the building as a white painter's van pulled in front of the bank. I wonder what they're working on.