Member-only story
Nobody Gets It
A burglary gone wrong
Nobody gets it. Carl doesn’t get it. Vincent doesn’t get it. Not even Megan gets it, and she’s the smartest one here, which probably is why she doesn’t admit her confusion. The others, though…
“I don’t get it, Ben,” Carl and Vincent say simultaneously.
What they don’t get is, basically, nothing. Literally nothing. We’re in a hotel suite the size of a house. Four lush bedrooms. Two oversized bathrooms. A baby grand piano. A hand-carved wooden chess set on a smoked glass coffee table big enough to seat six. It’s nuts, but yeah, some people pay tens of thousands a night to stay in a place like this. Vincent works here. He doesn’t make enough to stay overnight, but this sweet little job we’re working should net him enough to quit. It’s my idea and Megan’s plan. Vincent’s the inside man. He got us the uniforms and the code to the suite. Carl and Megan have bank access and laundering skills. And here we are, standing around this king bed, staring at the insides of a boring blue carry-on.
Which is empty.
I don’t get it, either. It’s not supposed to be empty. It’s supposed to be stuffed with green stuff. Stacks of hundreds. A million in cash, a quarter million each, and all we need do is walk out with it. And damn it, it’s empty!
