Page 3 of Dirty Deceit

Me, I like keeping things private. The more people know about your business, the easier it is to get caught. Everyone is out for themselves in the end, and none of us want to do time in jail. I go to my room to start packing my bag. I'm not sure how long I'll stay there, so I have to be prepared. I pack suits. I always wear business attire to support my professional persona as a business investor.

But it takes a lot of money to keep up appearances. This apartment in New York is around $12K a month with all its amenities. But business keeps us pretty busy these days, and our pockets are full. What I need to start building, though, is a retirement fund. Living from payout to payout is similar to living check to check, and I find that a bit crass and vulgar. That's no life for me at 47.

I carefully select all my attire to look my best. I study myself in the mirror and decide to go to the barber to trim my beard. These days, it makes you look more sophisticated. Add my glasses to that, and I've got a certain look that ladies love but men respect. My phone rings, and I see it's John.

"Hey, I'm busy packing, what's going on?"

"I'm worried about this Vegas crew," John says.

I sigh and tense up again. "I am too, but Ned trusts them."

"Ned is being blinded by the zeroes in this project."

Yeah, we call them projects because who wants to admit they are a con artist of the first degree? Before we got together, we each did our own ventures. Small cons, embezzlement, and flat-out theft. We still do those things today, but we have gotten greedy. That's never a good thing. None of us have been caught because we were always careful. But these bigger projects are delicate. Everything needs to balance out at the end.

"I've already talked to him. He's not changing his mind. Soon-to-be ex-wife #3 has been hassling him for compensation. He wants to end things amicably."

"Shit."

"You know it. That's why I'm still single."

"That's not why you're single. You're single because you're the only one of us who still has a glimmer of a conscience."

He's right. I do not like to take money from little old ladies or people in need, but sometimes things happen. At least that's what I tell Father Ramirez when I go to confession.

"Should we get a beer?" I ask him.

"Yeah, come down. The crowd is light this afternoon."

"I'll see you in fifteen."

I hang up and finish up my packing. I'll take a rideshare to Johnny's Bar, aptly named after its owner, my friend, John. It's a bit of a seedy bar, but it's a good place to hang out. He's the only one of us who has tried to go straight, but he barely manages to stay in the black. I sometimes think he just wants someplace to lay low and call home, and the bar fits the bill perfectly.

Leaving behind my jacket and tie, I head out of my apartment and sit in the building's lobby. The doorman says hello. I nod while I scroll through information on Las Vegas. I might want to do some gambling, just for the fun of it. My whole life is one big gamble, but I see it as measured risks. The doorman lets me know when the rideshare has arrived, and I head out to the curb and climb in.

I start thinking about Ned and his many wives and cringe on the inside. I'm not unfeeling. I'd like a life partner, but deep inside, I'm ashamed of how I got my money. I would have liked to go to college and have a career, but as a kid with only a single mom wrestling each day to make ends meet, I had little choice.

That's one good thing I've done, though. I bought my mother a nice house and set her up in as much style as she'd let me. She didn't ask where the money came from, and I don’t talk about it with her either. If something happened to me, she'd be taken care of, no problem. Which puts my mind at ease. The rideshare guy tells me we've arrived, and I get out of the car.

I walk into my friend's place and see him serving drinks behind the bar.

"Hey, let's go to the booth in the back. More private." He says.

"Sure, I'll have something bubbly but non-alcoholic, please."

I know where his favorite spot is in the bar, and I head there. He always has a 'reserved' notecard so no one takes the booth. I see him tell one of the servers something, and then he walks towards me with drinks for both of us. He sits with a groan. I can't blame him. At our age, things start to squeak and rattle.

"I want to retire." He tells me. His face is serious.

My smile is small, but hopefully, he knows I'm not laughing at him.

"I'm serious, Murphy. I want out of the business."

I'm rendered speechless. He really means it. "But we've just started expanding. Good things are sure to come. Can't you wait a bit?"

"Expansion is Ned's dream, not ours, and you know it. And, no, it can't wait."

"Why this? Why now?" I ask.

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