The Vault

When I got back to the suite, I was almost humming to myself like a bitch. That's what this Brenda girl does to me. Did I really just sit inside a hair salon for hours for her? The thought made me grin like an idiot.

As usual for me though, any moment of happiness comes crashing down quickly with a giant dose of hard mobster kid reality.

Sitting on my bed was a note. Someone had been in here, and it wasn't to do my laundry. The note was folded and you would never think that a piece of paper could look so threatening. I immediately looked around the room and hurried around the suite opening and closing bathroom and closet doors, to see if anyone was hiding in here. I found nothing but the invisible and foul stench of Jack's goons in the air.

With a quivering hand, I finally picked up the note and read it.

Sun Trust Bank vault, tonight. Be there. Box 11 and wait.

15 22 11 1 95

So the plan had been changed. Jack was moving the timeline up which couldn't be a good sign. It meant someone out there was onto him. It was only a matter of time before Jack McKay would be going down, and taking me with him. What time was tonight though? I guess whenever I showed up. If I showed up.

I sat on the couch in the living room for a while to think. My eyes burned a hole in the floor as I played out the scenarios in my head one by one. Either I was being set up to take the fall, or I was just another lackey doing Jack's dirty work for him. I wasn't really in the mood to spend the rest of my life in prison for my shady father though if he's about to be caught.

I picked up the phone next to me and dialed the number for the Beverly Hills PD. How could I live like this anymore? He needed to be taken away for what he was doing to me and so many others. How many people had Jack ripped off. How many dirty books were stacked against him. It didn't matter. I was turning him in and going to be done with him.

The phone rang a few times, then someone picked up.

"Beverly Hills police department. How can I direct your call?"

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I tried again and still nothing.

"Beverly Hills Police Department, are you there…?"

My mouth opened again to speak, but nothing came out.

I set the phone back in its cradle. I looked at the numbers on the note, which must be the safe combination at the vault. One of them was actually my birth date. I don't suppose Jack went sentimental on me. Maybe I'm just a sucker, but I stood up and begrudgingly grabbed my long trench, heading for the door.

On the ride over I could hear a montage of Jack's voice in my head as I rode through Beverly Hills. I tried to tell myself I was just running an errand for my dad, but this wasn't exactly picking up tools at the hardware store.

Sun Trust Bank is actually here in Beverly Hills. I'm shocked Jack wouldn't have me go more out of town for this, but maybe he liked to keep his dealings closer to home. I had to hand it to him, he worked with what he knew, and what he knows is Beverly Hills and the people in it. He knows exactly who to rip off and play. If you looked behind Jcks's smile and firm handshake though he was a snake oil salesman, slithering until he caught his prey. So many times over the years, I'd stood in the next room or behind a wall, listening as dad told his goons "the plan." When you're a kid you realize quickly that dudes in dark suits don't come over in the middle of the night for any kind of "legitimate" business meeting.

I stopped the car in front of a tacky bank with a neon sign on the very edge of Beverly Hills. The place looked completely closed with no other cars in the lot. I sat in my car for a little bit waiting to see if anyone was going to come escort me inside, but nobody came. I finally hopped over my car door without opening it, and jumped out. I gave the collar of my long coat a flick upwards to hide myself as much as possible, as I stalked forwards.

When I got to the front entrance I could see through the glass doors that nobody was inside yet, unless they were hovering somewhere in the shadows. I knocked on the glass, and after a few moments the bank doors actually unlocked electronically. I ran a hand over my face, then stuffed my hands inside my pockets. Here goes nothing, but actually everything. I stepped inside the bank. There were probably video cameras filming my non breaking, breaking and entering.

"Hello…" I called out uneasily, which was probably a bad move.

I turned in a circle when I got to the very center of the room. There still didn't seem to be anyone here. Maybe they were already dead. There were obviously other white collar criminals around town who were after the same thing Jack was. Maybe they had beaten him here. I could very well step on a body soon somewhere in this darkness.

"Who's here?" I called out.

I got answered back by one of those bank pens attached to a chain falling off a table, as I walked past it. The small sound made my heart drop down into my gut. My hands shook, and I felt sweaty and hot under my long coat.

"Get it together, you bitch," I whispered to myself. That's when a light in the back of the bank flipped on. It lit up what was obviously the vault. I stepped forward and made my way over thinking I would see someone, but again nobody. They must be able to see me though, and were watching from some camera room. Who knows if from here or somewhere else.

I could see the vault door was actually perched open a crack. That was my cue. I pulled at the too heavy door, and stepped inside a cold room, with metal safety boxes lined up and down the walls.

I quickly located box 11. Now I was supposed to wait. And do what? I wanted to get the hell out of here before the bank alarm goes off, and my father actually gets me sent to juvie for him.

Instead of panicking though, I took a deep breath and slid down against some vaults and sat on the floor like an obedient dog. Sat and waited…

After making a mental list of all the girls I'd fucked, and all the ones I'd like to, and singing a medley of Metallica softly to myself, I'd actually fallen asleep. When I woke up it was obvious a few hours had passed, and I was still sitting here waiting with a now freshly crusted drool stuck to my face. Still, nobody was here. Who knows how long I'd been out. I wasn't drugged, I knew that much. It was the mental anguish of being here that had knocked me out. Christ, my dad was part of the mob, and tonight he was planning on getting his hands on who knows how much swindled money. Obviously enough to make invisible goons watch me from some video planted somewhere far away. I'm sure I already screwed this up by falling asleep. I couldn't tell if there were any cameras in here, but I flipped off the air anyway with my head down, from the floor. I was so angry. What the hell was my life? I should be somewhere studying for my SATs, not engaged in this shit. It dawned on me that maybe nobody was coming. Maybe Jack had already been caught. Maybe the only way out for him was to get this done myself.

I finally stood up now on two shaky legs. I had to get out of here, and be done with this. At box 11, I punched in the number code, and turned the dial. It opened easily. Inside was the most ugly, and obscene amount of money I'd ever seen in my life. Stacks and stacks of it. It smelled like money too. It had that dirty, musty but intoxicating scent. Bills and bills were stacked on eachother, and I could see how far back the box went into the wall. I couldn't tell how much was in here, but Scrooge McDuck could definitely have swam in it, if he wanted to.

My hands reached in and picked up a thick stack and carefully flipped through it. It was all hundreds. All the stacks were. What the hell was I supposed to do with it? I hadn't even brought a bag. I had no clue. I began to stick some of the stacks in the deep pockets of my jacket but it felt so stupid. I could never fit it all obviously. At the moment, I thrusted the stacks out of my pockets and started flinging the money into the room, just throwing it out in bundles and separating some of the bundles, crumpling them, and ripping some of it up. I made sure to toss out the rest of the stacks still in the box as well. Money rained down around me like a dizzying green blur. The bills were so flat, crispy and new, some had a hard time sliding out of the safe which infuriated me further.

"Who do you love!" I yelled inside the vault, as I flung and tossed money around the room frantically.

"This is what you love! You fucking criminal!" I answered myself as I started to cry uncontrollably, with my body shaking. I couldn't stand any longer and dropped down into the mess on the floor. I curled up fetal style in it, and cried like a baby in the middle of the room, quietly pounding the floor with my fist slapping money around. Let them come in, see it all and arrest me. I didn't care anymore. It was over.

I layed like that for a while, until I opened my eyes and finally picked my cheek up off the floor. I could feel a bill stuck to my sweaty wet face and hear the money crumpling underneath my body. I pulled the bill off my cheek and looked down at Benjamin Franklin, remembering where I was. I couldn't tell if Ben was grinning or not but he was still the only one in the room with me. Nobody had shown up.

I stood up now carefully, and surveyed the mess I'd made. Strippers hadn't been here and these weren't one dollar bills. They were all hundreds, scattered around the floor and torn in pieces like a wild animal had been in here devouring it and relieving me of my existence.

In a daze, I began collecting all the crumpled, ripped up bills, and stacks of money off the floor. I smashed it all back into box 11 not caring if it was neat or in stacks anymore. After I'd gotten it all up, I scanned the room. There was still a green fleck in a corner. I walked toward it, and picked it up to find a piece of Ben Franklin's eyes looking back at me. I gazed at it for a moment, between my fingers before dropping it back into the box with the others. Finally, I closed the door to the safe with a thud. I then let myself out of the vault, shutting the heavy door behind me. As bad as that had been, the weightlessness of my pockets kept me moving towards the front door and outside into fresh air.