Page 2 of The Triplets and the Blonde

Dealing with The Rich was always risky business. I normally didn’t do it. Not that I was against it, but they expected us to do a lot for very little cash. And I never, not once, had one of The Elite in front of me actually speaking to me. We had three classes; Poor, Rich, and Elite. My mother once told me that’s not how it always was.

My mother had told me there was a thing called the middle class. Average people that didn’t have tons of money. They had houses, cars, and usually didn’t beg for food. Then the poor got poorer and became the homeless. Millions of people out on the streets like it was nothing.

The middle class vanished. The Rich took over, living in mansions, and then there was the Elite. Well, they ruled everything. My mom showed me books about a thing called ‘the government.’ It was as much a fantasy as the stories I read. Elite’s were in charge. Meaning one thing: Money controlled everything.

“Miss Kira, if you insist. I need you to retrieve a bag for me. If you accept, I will give you all the details.” Again his eyes darted around. That’s when I realized he was nervous. His kind didn’t go down dark alleys, to talk to filthy homeless people. He was hoping he would have already been gone, and we would have this meeting in his part of town. A place safe for someone like him, an Elite.

“Carlos, let me be super clear. You tell me everything I need to know to retrieve this bag. If I can do it, you pay half now. Depending on how hard this is gonna be will depend on how long it will take me.” I crossed my arms over my chest to show him I was tired of his back and forth.

“Fine.” He ran his hand through his hair and mumbled something to himself. Then to me he said, “The bag is behind a painting at 44 Cartright Ave. I need it by midnight tomorrow. I will meet you here. Before you ask, I’m not sure which painting. Probably the Van Gough, knowing them.”

“No.” I shook my head and sat back down.

“No? Rumors claim you are the best.” Carlos practically stomped his food.

There was The Elite’s and then there were the Cartrights. So rich they named the street after themselves. “You are asking me to steal from the family that owns half of New Boston. Are you crazy?”

Anyone that lived in or near New Boston knew the Cartrights. The family expanded across the ten countries within the United States, but this town was their birth place. My mom told me when the economy shifted they helped drive people from their homes. They were ruthless, evil, and killed without remorse. No way was I going near their mansion.

He looked up and down the alley, again. Then he squatted close to me. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a thick white envelope. “I’m asking you to steal one last time, to change your life around. Do you really want to live like this forever?” He handed me the envelope.

I knew I shouldn’t open it. Every atom of my being told me to give it back. Walk away. I gripped the envelope. It was stuffed full of cash, it had to be. I opened it.

My eyes bugged out of my head. My heart pounded in my chest. Sweat dripped down my temples. It was. It was. I just couldn’t believe it. I made a weird gurgle noise every time I tried to speak. Suddenly, I was very aware of Vickie watching us. That was enough to change both of our lives. She would never have to hook again.

“Fifty thousand now. A hundred thousand more tomorrow at midnight,” he whispered. Then he got up and walked away.

I shoved the money into my bookbag. Stealing from the Cartrights was suicide. It was nuts just to consider it, but with that kind of money I could change mine and Vickie’s lives. Could I really walk away from that kind of cash?

“Okay, fill me in.” Vickie plopped beside me.

“Would you come with me? Go to Mexico, start over.” I grabbed her hands to show her how serious I was.

“Mexico?” she whispered as if the word alone would get us in trouble.

Mexico was a dreamland. There were no homeless people, no Elite, no rulers. They apparently still had a government and housing for everyone. It was where all of us dreamed of, but to get there cost money. Lots of money.

“Yes, Mexico. You would never have to hook again. I would never have to steal. Imagine it. We could have a life, find love, start a family.” I waved my hand in the air like she could see the words I spoke.

“You know how much money that costs? Not to mention it’s four countries to cross, each harder to pass than the one before. Even if we get that far, how do you plan on getting past the wall into Mexico?” She shook her head. When we were little we dreamed of this. I could have made this happen as she was being skeptical.

“This job could make our dreams come true. It’s a hundred and fifty k.” I knew it was dangerous, but it was worth the risk.

“What’s the job? Maybe I could help.” She knew there was no way we could turn this down.

“Robbing the Cartrights,” I whispered.

“What you’re gonna steal from The Triplets?” She grabbed my arms, her nails dug into my skin.

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