Of Thieves And Do Gooders

Raven’s Point Of View

One week. That’s how long it took me to get back into my regular routine. Considering I started with no money though, it took me far too long to scrounge up the money for a dingy motel. However, one of the first things I did was buy some new clothes, then I stuffed the tuxedo at the bottom of a backpack I had bought--I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out or sell it.

I convinced myself that Shadowstep Academy was a nice dream, but it was time for me to pull myself back into the real world, where no one was kind and it was every human for themselves.

Still, even if I felt like I wouldn’t go back to Shadowstep, I couldn’t forget Hayden, Damion and Leon. Especially Hayden. I couldn’t help but feel bad for leaving him such a vague note, I mean, the kid worried about me too much as it was. Then again, there was also that part of me that remembered he had expected me to leave, he figured it was going to happen eventually, so he had probably prepared and he wouldn’t even miss me. That’s how I slept at night anyway. It was time for me to worry about the one person that mattered: myself.

I went back to my regular lifestyle: staying up late into the night to perfect silence and efficiency, not doing homework, bouncing from hotel to motel and back to hotel again--well mostly motels. I was a pickpocket more often than not, and I had been caught several times, but it was easy enough to outrun the old people who saw me. But it was days like that that I didn’t eat.

I will admit, I missed Shadowstep Academy in some aspects, such as the warmth that it brought or the image of home that it tried to project. It was a comfortable place, despite the round-the-clock schedule that consumed my entire day. I also missed my friends. I tried not to think about that though, I told myself that they were temporary friends and that I shouldn’t miss them. But most of the time, I just chose not to think about it.

On the bright side, during the week that I had been gone, my hair had started to grow out to a more normal length, by a girl standard anyway. It was just barely shorter than Damion’s used to be--which was just enough hair that I could easily hide my ears. In the meantime however, I pretended that I was a boy for awhile longer. It was a nice cover, and I must admit, I think I was starting to forget how to act like a girl.

At the moment, I was tailing a young-ish woman who was about in her late twenties. She had a rich older husband--although not much older, maybe thirty to thirty-two--and cheated on him consistently every Tuesday at the same fancy five-star hotel. However, the tricky part was keeping tabs on both the wife and the husband. The wife was simple to understand, and I managed to even steal her planner--which consisted of several meetings with fashion designers and mysterious “hair appointments” every Tuesday. The husband, however, was a bit more complex. He was always doing things for work, but he was also always going all over town and sometimes returning to the house. It was hard to tell where he would go next.

But finally, and I mean finally, I pinpointed a specific time that I knew where he would be, how long he would be there and I even knew why he was there. I had scored. Big time. It was like winning the lottery for me. The only problem was that the house was huge…naturally, and all I had was a floor plan, however I wasn’t sure which rooms were occupied, where jewelry would be, where expensive china lay hidden, where fancy four thousand dollar dresses could be snatched. I would have to guess during the part of the infiltration.

The woman came striding out of a Tiffany’s with her dainty white purse bumping against her hip. I sat nonchalantly on a bench as she walked past me, her shoes clacking on the pavement in hurried steps as she jabbered away on her cell phone. I chucked the woman’s address book in the wake of her steps and then scrambled after it and scooped it up off of the ground. I pretended to look at it for a second and then I trotted after her. “Ma’am! Ma’am!” I shouted, trying to get her attention.

She paused on her phone with a, “Just a sec,” and turned toward me, scowling at having been interrupted and then she stared at me for a second before muttering something on her phone and snapped it shut.

I held the address book out toward her with a pleasant smile. “You dropped this,” I explained.

The woman squinted at the address book, then looked me in the face and smiled sweetly, “Oh! Thank you so much, I’ve been looking everywhere for this thing,” she said, taking the address book and popping it into her purse before looking back at me. “It’s so refreshing to see nice boys like you around these days,” she applied a coy smile and I winced inwardly. Flirting. Weird.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” I blushed a little at the compliment.

“Oh! Aren’t you just the cutest! Blushing and all, that’s so adorable.” For a moment I thought she was going to pinch my cheek, but she seemed to have refrained from doing so. “Well there must be some way for me to repay you,” her coy smile slipped into a seductive one and I felt myself go on red-alert while I remained seemingly calm. “How about you come over to my house for lunch? My husband’s away, but I’m sure we can make some use out of that big empty house.” She raised her eye brow at me.

Creepy.

“Ah, no thanks, I’ve got to get to my parents house, their expecting me. Thanks anyway, though,” I lied confidently and waved to the woman quickly before turning to leave. God, just talking to that chick gave me chills, someone that horny shouldn’t be allowed to walk around without a blue sticker on their head to help identify them.

Tomorrow, I decided as I walked away from the woman, my hands stuffed in my pockets and my shoulders hunched forward a little. I would break into the house tomorrow, Tuesday, while the husband was having an important lunch meeting with some client and the woman was out for her usual “hair appointment”. Tomorrow. Tuesday.

_______________________________________

Hayden’s Point Of View

One week. That’s how long Raven had been gone. No, I did not miss her. I had the entire room to myself again and I was damn happy about it. ‘Cept she left it looking like shit. Her bed was still unmade, her clothes were all over the floor, her CDs were scattered throughout the room, her closet was half open with old shoes spilling out into the floor.

The Headmaster was sending people to move her things later that night. I couldn’t stand being in the room though, I tried to be somewhere else most of the time. It just pissed me off to see remnants of her. It all reminded me of the stupid-ass note she left me.

Sorry, Goodbye
Ray

That was what it said. That was it. No explanation. Nothing. I still half-expected to see her come striding through the dorm room door, “Shit this school’s big,” she would say, still in that deep voice that she had been trying to maintain, not realizing she lapsed into her regular voice every once in awhile. She could be indecisive and she might have come back. Or at least that’s what part of me thought, and it’s what the Headmaster thought. Which was the only reason that her stuff was left in the room so long.

But she didn’t come.

She had left everything, and I mean everything. Her clothes, her shoes, her iPod, her CDs, everything. Not that she had much in the first place, but why leave it all behind? She must have been in a hurry when she decided to ditch the school. I couldn’t help but wonder why she had left. There wasn’t any warning, I didn’t even get to say anything to her before she left.

…Not that I would know what the hell I would say. Still, it seemed like I should’ve been able to say something. You know, “Good luck stealing on your own,” or, “See you around,” or maybe, “Get out of here you sarcastic little street rat that can’t even leave a decent parting letter,”…Okay, maybe I wouldn’t really say that last one, but, still, thinking it made me feel better.

I wandered over to her bed for a second, considering whether or not I should make it--it really made the room look like crap. Then, just for a second I saw her face, maybe what it would have looked like when she wrote that letter, impassive, uncaring, nonchalant. With a growl of annoyance, I grabbed her pillow and chucked it across the room as hard as I could and watched as it slumped against the wall. How selfish could she get? She only cared about herself, didn’t care what happened to anyone around her.

However, my aggression slid away from me as I glanced back at the bed and saw a piece of overturned paper in place of where the pillow was. I hesitated, then, remembered how abruptly she had left--who cared about her privacy? She left it, so it obviously wasn’t important to her anyway. I snatched up the piece of paper a little cynically and examined it, realizing it was a photograph.

I frowned when I recognized Raven in the picture, although she looked a lot younger, more like a kid than she did now. Her hair was also longer, a lot longer, maybe at her mid-back, it was a little darker too, like she didn’t go out in the sun if she could help it. Her hair now--or last time I saw it--was more golden-ish. There was another person in the picture, a guy though. The other guy standing next to her was a couple inches taller and had black hair and his eyes were green and less full of life compared to Raven’s hazel ones.

The guy in the picture was obviously Raymond, her brother. There had been a picture of him in the article I had read, so he was easy to recognize. I sighed, considering what I should do with the picture--send it off with all of her stuff? Burn it for revenge? Hold onto it for her?

I tucked the picture in my pocket after looking at it for awhile longer. I didn’t know what I would do with it yet, but I would figure it out.

The door opened and Dame stepped into the room, the same hopeful look in his eyes. God he was sad. That hope died quickly though when he saw that I was the only one in the room.

“Face it dude, she’s not coming back,” I said matter-of-factly, rekindling my anger toward her.

Dame rolled his eyes, closed the door behind him and said, “You’re so negative. She didn’t even say anything, she left everything behind, of course she’s coming back.”

No one else knew about the note I had gotten, and I wasn’t about to tell the love struck Dame. It was addressed to me anyway, so I didn’t have to share it with him or Lee. I could do what ever I wanted with it.

“What ever you say.” I moved away from Raven’s bed, stepped over a pile of her clothes and absently kicked shoes into her closet before closing the door. “Where’s Lee?”

Dame shrugged, “Meeting up with some blonde chick--Carry maybe? I dunno, but anyway, I was gonna ask you…” he hesitated when he noticed Raven’s pillow was across the room, but decided to ignore it. Good choice. “Do you think we should be, you know, worried about Raven? She’s been gone for a week and all, but the school’s just gonna ditch her stuff in some back room, like she was never here…”

It was my turn to shrug. “I wouldn’t worry about her, she probably left on her own. Besides, I told you she was going to leave eventually, and I guessed right, she left almost immediately…after…” I trailed off, thinking about that for a second. She had disappeared after I had told Dame not to get too close to her, I told him she was going to leave. And now she had.

Dame seemed to be on the same train of thought as me, “You think she heard us?” he asked quietly, sounding completely and utterly ashamed that we had even had the conversation. Which was stupid, since even if she had heard, she was eavesdropping, so it wasn’t our fault that she got her feelings hurt and ran off because of it.

No. That didn’t sound like Raven. “No way,” I said confidently. “She wouldn’t leave over some stupid thing like that. Nothing bugs her.”

Dame didn’t look so convinced, then he asked suddenly, “Did you ever tell her about…” he gestured to my pocket and said gently, “You know…”

My necklace? “Hell no,” I scoffed, stuffing my hands into my pockets without really thinking. “She asked about it a lot though. I don’t know why she wanted to know so bad.” I really didn’t. She asked about it all the time, even when we were at the hospital she was looking at it. It wasn’t like it held some big secret about me. I just didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t need to know. It wasn’t important.

“She asked me about it too,” Dame admitted and at my sharp glare he added, “But I didn’t tell her anything, I told her she should ask you.”

“I wouldn’t have told her, even if she asked,” I said simply, it was obvious to me. She just didn’t need to know. No one really did. I felt weird just telling Dame and Lee about it.

Dame was silent for a minute and then he headed toward the door. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I miss her, she made this school a lot more fun,” he said casually, and then added, “I’ll see you later, I gotta see Lilany about some extra credit.” And then he was gone.

What was he talking about? We could still have a shitload of fun without Raven. We could get out of school in the middle of the night, we could play pranks on random people, we could mess with Lilany like we used to--throw rocks every time she looked out the window, to make it look like a student was leaving school grounds at night.

But we hadn’t done any of that in awhile. We hadn’t done anything interesting or exciting since Raven left. What the hell was wrong with us?

_________________________________________

Raven’s Point Of View

Tuesday.

It was exactly one thirty in the after noon and the wife had just left the house, the husband would be leaving shortly after that. And they didn’t even have dogs! I was excited, this would be an easy job, overconfident young couples were just too easy.

Another minute and the husband hurried out of the house, dressed in an obvious business suit as he chatted away on his cell phone. He stepped into his limo absently, muttered something to the chauffeur and then the door was closed for him The limo pulled out of the long drive way and the gate stayed open for exactly forty-five seconds after the car was through.

And that’s when I acted. I dove out of the bushes beside the gate and into the yard, where I took cover behind a small poplar for another minute before I was sure the limo was gone. I followed the tall white picket fencing until I was around the left side of the house--lest someone look out the window and see me. I had a black bag bumping against my side as I walked, and it kept reminding me of my next step with each new bump.

There was supposed to be a “hidden” door on the left side of the house, the floor plan offered the idea of planting rosebushes or blackberry bushes in front of it so that you could leave it unlocked, in case you were otherwise unable to get into the house. I smiled when I saw the door, completely exposed, obviously this couple didn’t like the idea much.

I stalked over to the door, feeling wary since I was out in the open in the middle of the day, but I calmly opened my black bag and pulled out a soft leather cloth which contained my lock picking kit. With a bit of quick wrist movements and the proper position of my tools, the lock clicked and I stored my lock picking kit away before moving into the house.

Now, if I remembered the floor plan correctly--which I did--there would be a long hallway that led deeper into the house and there would be a door on the right at the end of the hall. The door led to a bedroom and half a bathroom--meaning it was a bathroom with a toilet and sink, no shower or bath. There was another door that was straight at the end of the hall, which led into the larger portion of the house.

I decided to check the door on the right first. I stopped in front of it, and glanced down at the floor where light was leaking into the hallway, but that didn’t mean it was occupied. I pressed my ear softly to the wooden door and listened intently, holding my breath for a full thirty seconds before releasing it and deciding there was no one in the room. I turned the doorknob and swore as I realized it was locked.

Fine. If that was the way they wanted to play, then I was game. I whipped out my LPK for the second time, broke one of the tools, fished out another one and unlocked the door. I stuffed my LPK into my bag again and pushed the door open lightly, but quickly so that it didn’t squeak.

The room was decorated in some extravagant floral design that I didn’t pay attention to and I soon found the walk-in closet that accompanied the room and the half-bathroom. I pushed the mirrored doors aside and flicked on the light switch. The closet was empty aside from a black widow that scurried into the darkest corner it could find. Damn. I closed the closet, and checked the rest of the room. It was just a guest bedroom, nothing interesting in it but floral throw pillows and spider webs.

I left the room silently and turned the lock again before I closed the door. The next two rooms I checked were similar to the first, they held no sentimental value nor anything worth material value for that matter. Frustrating.

However, the forth room I found was the mother load. It belonged to the wife, obviously, a room that she could decorate how she wanted and put all of her material objects in. How foolish. This door was locked too, but that was easily taken care of. The room was decorated with far too much pink--although the rug was white, but I wasn’t interested in the decorations. I saw a jewelry box placed on the nightstand and opened it up. It was filled with earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets--all cheap crap. So the chick wasn’t as dumb as she looked.

I thought about it for a moment and opened a few of the nightstand drawers: magazines, chap stick, make-up, toenail polish--all worthless. I closed the drawer and thought for another minute and decided to head into the closet where hundreds of expensive purses and dresses threatened to reach out and grab me. I sifted through the clothing and found a particular dress that was kept in a black cover and moved it so that it was easy to find--I still had to check out the rest of the house before I carted around a dress.

Deciding there was nothing else worth inspecting, I turned to leave the closet. However, I was thwarted by a particularly maniacal pair of expensive stilettos, which forced me to trip and catch myself on the wife’s retro 80’s wardrobe. Luckily I didn’t make any noise, but the collection of brightly colored shirts and oddly patterned skirts gave way to my weight and toppled to the ground. I swore quietly to myself and began to gather the clothes in my arms, but stopped when I noticed something peculiar about the now exposed wall of the closet.

A small silver door adorned the wall, a black combination lock jutting out obviously so that I dropped the clothes that I had picked up. I stepped over the clothes and observed the small safe with a grin. Jackpot.

From what I could tell, it was a basic safe, it had a three number combination and had fifty numbers altogether, there wasn’t an alarm though, which meant it was a relatively cheap safe. Whoever had it installed was relying heavily on the fact that the safe wouldn’t be discovered.

With nimble fingers, I began to twirl the combination carefully, pressing my ear to the metal door as I did so. I could hear the tumblers roll and pursed my lips in concentration. If I had known I would be dealing with a safe I would have bought a stethoscope.

Two minutes passed and the last tumbler rolled into place. I pulled my head back and triumphantly pulled down on the silver handle and yanked the door open.

Jewelry. Jewelry. Jewelry. I chanted excitedly in my head as I peered at the contents of the safe.

However, my excitement was short lived when I became unfortunately aware of the lack of jewelry in the safe. Not even a damn shiny object in the thing. I frowned as I pulled out a pile of papers that were neatly stacked. I rose my eyebrows in surprise. There were three separate bank account numbers, a bunch of checkbooks, and balances of earlier mentioned bank accounts.

Every bank account was under the same name: Mary-Beth Crawford. The wife of the couple I was currently stealing from. Interesting. Apparently she wasn’t only unfaithful, but she was an underhanded liar/secret bank account keeper. Like I said before, she wasn’t nearly as dumb as she looked.

On the other hand, she had kept the information in a very flimsy safe. I gathered the numbers of the bank accounts as well as the balance in each account and a sample of the woman’s signature. Each account had approximately fifty-thousand dollars in it…I was going to be absolutely rich after this break in. How unexpectedly delightful.

I left the clothes on the floor and exited the closet as I stuffed the information into my bag. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I exited the room and locked the door behind me, I didn’t even have to check the rest of the house! Lucky, lucky, lucky, I thought happily, who would have known that after Shadowstep was out of my life I’d have such good fortune?

“What are you doing?” A male voice demanded behind me and I jumped lightly, swiveling around to see who had spoken.

I paled slightly, it was Jack Crawford, the unfortunate husband of the backstabbing Mary-Beth Crawford. What in the hell was he doing back so early? He was supposed to be gone for at least an hour! Anger boiled in my stomach as my mind filtered through possible lies and identities.

He wasn’t an ugly man in the least, with his short cut dark brown hair and calm gray eyes. He was lean and muscular in his official looking black suit, at a height of roughly six feet one inch. Much taller than me. I could curse my girlish shortness.

“W-what? Ah, Mr. Crawford, I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” I said dryly still trying to pull up a profile.

“Who are you?” he asked briskly, his gray eyes flashing down my body once and then he asked, “And why are you dressed like that?”

I puzzled over this for a moment, glanced down at my clothes and thought they looked normal enough, I didn’t plan on dressing as a thief this time around. I didn’t think I would have to. Since I had known exactly where everyone would be, I hated when information backfired on me.

“Sorry Sir?” I asked formally, maybe I could pretend I worked there with someone or was related to one of the maids.

“Your clothes,” he said as if it were obvious and glanced down at his watch before looking back up at my face, “they’re boys clothes, are you a cross dresser?”

I swallowed hard. “I am a boy,” I said indignantly, squaring my shoulders and looking offended.

Jack Crawford stared at me, disbelievingly, and added, “You look like you haven’t changed clothes in a week. Are you a thief?” he deducted reasonably, although there was no hostility in the accusation. “You must be a poor one to have only one outfit of clothing and boys clothing at that.”

“I told you I am a boy,” I tried to say insistently, “And I’m not a thie--”

“We both know that’s not true, you have too long of eye lashes, your face is too round and despite your baggy clothes I can see your obvious curves,” Jack said confidently and gestured for me to come toward him. “Come here a moment.”

I hesitated. “I don’t think so,” I said. Hell if I was going to see this guy that guessed every single thing about me in a matter of moments, I hadn’t even had time to deny half of the things he said. I took a step back, wondering if he was a rich guy who wasn’t willing to get his hands dirty chasing some petty thief.

He raised his eyebrows curiously, “Then I suppose you don’t want a free meal and a fresh pair of clothes, clothes for a girl that is?”

I stared at him suspiciously. A nice rich guy, hadn’t anticipated that one. Also, it screamed of strangeness, obviously there was a catch. While I was eating he would probably call the cops, which I simply couldn’t have. Or he would get his own security.

On the other hand, I could “eat” and as soon as he was out of sight I could disappear too. I was hungry after all, I could nibble on what ever he planned to give me. Perfect plan.

“Fine,” I said, not denying his accusations any longer, the guy was perceptive.

I followed him down the hall lightly, stepping with my heel then my toe, until we came to a large kitchen with a maid cleaning casually while humming a small tune. Jack ordered some sort of sandwich for me and led me into the dining room.

Once I was sitting down, he took a seat not far from me, sighing and sitting back in his chair as if it were already past midnight and he needed sleep. “So, what’s your name?” he asked casually, tapping his fingers on the table nonchalantly as he looked at me.

“Jennifer,” I produced immediately, returning his gaze only for a moment.

Jack looked skeptical. “Right, you don’t look much like a Jennifer.” God, how did he see through all of my lies? There was no way he could have seen the stupid eye-crinkle that Hayden could. He continued, “I suppose you found my wife’s collection of jewelry?”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t take any of it, it was all thrift store junk--Er, not that I would take any of it anyway.”

Jack chuckled once. “Right, because you aren’t a thief in the least. You were just skulking around my house while I was gone because you were in desperate need of a bathroom.” He eyed the door to the kitchen absently. “At least you can tell real jewelry from fake,” he commented blandly.

I pursed my lips, a nice and smart rich guy, very odd indeed. I felt the papers in my bag get heavy as guilt began to accumulate on them. I should give the papers to him to deal with, let him deal with his crappy choice of a wife. But I didn’t move, I just endured his questions and gave appropriate lies.

“I’m guessing you were a thief at some point?” I asked lazily, relaxing a little when I realized he didn’t plan on leaving me alone to call the police.

Jack smiled crookedly. “Good guess, it really isn’t something you should stick to for the rest of your life. Make something out of your skills,” he advised as the kitchen door opened and my sandwich arrived with a side of Royal Crown Cola. The meal was plain but it looked delicious.

When the maid had retreated back into the kitchen, I answered, “Make something out of stealing things and sneaking around? You mean I should be a private investigator?” I joked lightly and took a bite out of the sandwich.

“If you want,” he replied and shrugged his shoulders once, “I gave up the life altogether, kept the street smarts I had though, they come in handy.” Jack smiled to himself. “Thieving was damn fun though, the adrenaline was great.”

I snorted once. “Not if thieving is a matter of life and death,” I commented taking a few more bites of the sandwich.

“I suppose not,” he conceded.

Once my sandwich was gone, Jack himself led me to a room with a large closet filled with girls clothing. I had a feeling that it wasn’t out of politeness that he did so, he probably wanted to make sure I didn’t steal anything other than the clothing he was giving me.

…

Damn he was good.

Absently, I pulled out a tight-fitting long sleeve baby blue shirt, a black leather jacket cut short around my stomach and a pair of black, slightly flared Capri pants. I changed in the closet, keeping a close eye on the door, just in case the guy was some old pervert. That would explain the random hospitality.

However, I was unhindered as I changed and exited the closet fully clothed, my old clothes hanging casually over my arm. Jack was waiting patiently with his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced over what I had chosen and his eyes landed on my shoes, “You don’t want any shoes?” he asked curiously, seeing that I had chosen to keep my beat up old Converse.

I snorted. “Nah, these have personality,” I said as if it were obvious, referring to the dirt stains and holes that adorned the outer realms of my shoes.

“Must keep some part of you thieving self, I suppose?” Jack challenged with raised eyebrows, a sudden playful look in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, thinking he seemed rather familiar to someone I had once known. “Right,” I deadpanned and stepped out into the center of the room and said dismissively. “Look, thanks for the clothes and the food and all that, but I gotta get going.”

Jack’s face straightened out in contemplation and he nodded, “Of course, let me show you where the door is,” he said as he led me to the door.

“I’m not going to steal anything,” I promised, putting my hands up as a sign of harmlessness.

Jack laughed once. “I’m sure, and I suppose if you walk by something shiny you’ll be able to control yourself?” he challenged and continued to lead me to the front door.

Damn, he was good.

It wasn’t long until we reached the front door, and as soon as I saw that door open, the guilt began to weigh me down and I couldn’t force myself to leave. Jack held the door open for me, but I hesitated, thinking uncontrollably about the papers that I had stashed in my bag. He hadn’t even asked to see what was in my bag, to make sure I hadn’t stolen anything.

“Something wrong?” Jack Crawford asked when I didn’t leave right away. “I thought you would be happy to leave without authorities showing up,” he commented dryly, waiting for my reply.

I sighed heavily. “God damn it,” I dug around in my bag and fished out all of my stolen papers and said, “Here.” I stuffed them into his hands rather than waiting for him to take them. “I found them in your wife’s closet,” I said the words sullenly as if it wounded me to give him the information. What really hurt though, was the money that I was losing on the deal.

Jack flipped absently through the papers and smirked, “Ah, I see. I’ve been looking for these, so I have to thank you for doing the job for me.” I cocked an eyebrow curiously in his direction and he continued, “I’ve known about my wife’s secret accounts for some time now, it was just a matter of finding the paperwork. Now I can resolve the little issue.” He smiled kindly at me, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I murmured unable to be happy about my conscience and it’s late appearance. If it would have stayed hidden a little while longer I could have drained all of the bank accounts and been rich! Or, as close to rich as a petty thief can get.

Jack laughed suddenly and I looked up, startled. “You’re not too happy about telling me are you?” he asked, his gray eyes dancing with amusement.

“No,” I said truthfully, kicking at the ground for something to do. I thought about the “hair appointments” suddenly and decided to mention that bit of information too.

Jack frowned now and nodded once. “I’m aware of my wife’s weekly ‘hair appointments’. I’m afraid she thinks my close watch on money has diminished through the years. I know hair appointments don’t cost two-thousand dollars. And unless she uses miracle grow as shampoo, I doubt she’d need her hair cut once a week.”

I smiled crookedly. “If she was smart, she would have used money from her secret accounts,” I pointed out and stepped outside. “Anyway, have fun doing whatever you’re doing. I have to get back to the real world.” I turned to leave and then paused to say, “Oh, and good luck, I hope you’re smart enough to ditch her.”

“Wait a minute,” Jack caught up to me, and handed me a thick little card, “If you’re ever in trouble, call me, I may be able to help. And if you get tired of sleeping in motels, look me up, you know where the house is,” he smiled a little sarcastically and I smiled back.

I took the card and nodded to him. “Thanks, I’ll think about it,” I said and left the house.
The stretch between the gate and the house was a long one while I battled with my conscience again.

Okay, I gotta get this out. I didn’t exactly give him all of the bank account numbers. Just two. The third one was mine for the time. I wasn’t going hungry just because I decided to be a good girl and help out a nice guy.

I would hit up the bank later that day, what an unpleasant surprise for Mary-Anne Cheating Whore Crawford. Jack was a nice guy, I didn’t see why she decided to be a sneaky unfaithful wife.

I shrugged it off, I needed to head over to the correct bank and drain what I wanted from the account, then I would leave the rest for Jack. I just needed enough to survive for awhile. I needed some leisure time already and maybe I’d use my photographic memory to try and remember to buy Raymond some damn flowers.

____________________________________________

I wandered outside the bank for about an hour before I found a nice woman who would go into the bank for me. They had cameras and I didn’t need to be seen popping in and out of banks when they looked for who took the money. She was about fifty-eight years old with kind brown eyes.

It took her all of fifteen minutes to go in and come out with five-thousand dollars in cash. If worst came to worst I could chase the old lady down and steal everything she owned, so it wasn’t a matter of trust, it was a matter of me having confidence in myself. She didn’t try to run though, she raised her eyebrows curiously when I took the money and stuffed it into my bag with a grin. I thanked her and gave her a hundred dollar bill for the help. Before she could protest I turned and left with four-thousand-and-nine-hundred dollars in my bag.

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty good. I even got to rent a pretty nice hotel for the night.

That night, when I slid under the covers of my comfy hotel bed I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I had a full stomach, money in my pocket--literally since I was too paranoid to leave it elsewhere--and a nice warm room to sleep in. Things were looking up…again, that is.