1.
People say that there are jobs that you are born to do, rather than choose to. It all comes down to a matter of vocation versus occupation. My entire life, I believed that there were only four of those that fell under the "vocation" category: doctor, teacher, scientist and thief. And I was always very proud that my way of earning money was the royalty of all vocations. Don't get any ideas now, I'm not out there saving lives, thought it often happens as a side effect. And no, I am not teaching little and extremely spoiled children that sharing is good and that the integral of a sin is a negative cos. And I am definitely not stuck in a lab, studying cells and speeding up electrons in a Large Hadron Collider. Which leaves us with option number four. That's right ladies and gentleman, I am out and proud! I am a thief and I pride myself on the fact that I am one of the best in the entire world. Even though I am an eighteen-year old girl, which is already more than enough. The following story only strengthens that thought. Why am I sharing it? Well, even though I don't really go to a therapist, (imagine what a shock she would have had if I told her that I stole the mask of Tutankhamen from the Ethnological Museum of Vienna and replaced it with a fake one, just so I can prove that there is no curse), I believe that getting information out of your system is good for your health. So, that is exactly what I am doing, getting it out of my system. Who knows? Maybe I'll even figure out why on earth would I do the things I did? If not, blame it on the hormones.
It all started out this one completely uneventful day, when my dad decided that I was leading a much too passive live, and something should be done about it. Apparently he forgot about the fact that his last five jobs, on which he took me, involved a ridiculous amount of mountain-climbing, diving in long-lost and forgotten caves, and basically every single gymnastics move I have ever done in my entire live. You see, my dad, is kind of a… well, why fuss around it: a treasure hunter. That's right, you heard me: my dad's professional occupation is looking for treasures. The drill is usually really simple: someone comes to my dad's agency claiming that there is this legend passed down in his family that somewhere in Uruguay or another less-civilized location there is a buried casket with fist sized rubies that belongs to his family. My dad, the nice man he is, says that he will do anything in his powers, and after drilling the client for a couple of hours, lets him go, with a paycheck in his pocket and the promise to get back at him. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn't. If the former, then the size of the find is seriously decimated. If the latter: I'm sorry nothing could be found, did my best, bla-bla-bla and all that bull.
Anyhow, my dad happens to have a very small company. There are in fact only two employees in it. It keeps us off the radar when it comes to government organizations, but it also allows me to do what I really enjoy, which is finding my own treasures. Only in my case, those are not diamonds or gold. My treasures are incriminatory books, long lost and vanished from the face of the earth because they contained deadly evidence. The problem with my treasures is that usually someone already has them. And they don't really want to let them go. Ergo the necessity of theft. Of course, sometimes I amuse myself with the occasional art work or some really nice necklace, but those are just for fun, my heart being forever given to unveiling information. Or trading it. It varies from case to case.
But, back on track now. My dad, the one and only Kyle Richardson decided that it might be a good idea for me to change my environment a little bit. You know get away from all the treasure hunting and book stealing. And in a strike of pure genius he decided to drop this news by me while I was getting ready to go to Venice for a well-earned vacation. Of course I was going to look through some private book collection while being there. Without the permission of the owners. I mean it would have been a waste of fuel to get there, and I was aware of the environmental damages caused by the fumes that planes emanated into the atmosphere.
"Honey, I've got perfect news!"
I looked up from the book I was reading, and braced myself for the worst. In dad-speak, 'perfect news' meant 'I got things just the way I wanted'.
"Dad, why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
He just smiled that smile of his that made women swoon. No kidding. I've witnessed that numerous times. I mean, there is no way you are going to be looking for a treasure without attending at least a couple of those social gatherings where the rich and famous give away money for the poor and miserable. And that's when my dad usually turned on the charm.
"That's just the way you operate, Nika. So, do you want to hear what I have to say?"
"Not really, but I have a feeling that you are going to tell me anyways." I said putting my book aside.
My dad sat down on my bed and looked me straight in the eye.
"Niks, you know I've been talking about you changing the surroundings, just for the fun of it, and…"
"Hold up, you are serious about it? I thought that was just, you know, babbling to keep me on my toes!"
The smile on his face was almost apologetic. And the tone he used was also filed with genuine concern.
"Baby, you're eighteen now."
"Dad, I know I'm eighteen. And we've had this talk before. If you are afraid of my…premature awakening, to put it in your terms, don't worry. I am an old maid according to modern standards."
He just gestured me to stop talking and listen.
"It's not about that issue. Although now that I come to think about it... But that's not what I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you that I have arranged for you to live in France for a while, with a friend of mine."
I literally felt the world crash. For a couple of moments there, I expected him to drop the serious face and say with a laugh "Gotcha!"
Only he didn't.
"You've got to be kidding me! France, dad? Seriously! I hate that place! Ever since the Louvre Job! I have traumatic memories about that place, and you send me there! Nice job, what can I say."
"I think you'll survive. You'll have the chance to meet the most influential people in the entire world, and maybe, you'll pick up some manners along the way."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"So that's what it is about? You are shipping me to another continent because you don't like my manners? Dad, you are a better liar than that! Tell me the truth."
No response.
"Half? Ok, I'll settle for a quarter." He didn't say a word. "Ok fine, don't trust me, that's on you. Who I will be living with?"
My dad gave me a conspirator's wink and said with a mysterious air:
"I guess you'll just have to find out there baby."
I sighted and started packing up my stuff. I was pretty certain that there was already a jet waiting for me at the airport. Good thing I was a fast packer.