GO!

I opened the cellar door to an empty hall. Don’t fail me now, I said to my feet, and I ran the short distance to the stairs and took them two at a time. I ran into the counting room and almost fainted. The table was filled with money. It was all bundled in stacks and secured with rubber bands. More money than I’d ever seen. The tote bag was huge, but it couldn’t hold all of the money. A large duffel bag had been tossed to the floor not far from the table. I stuffed it full of the remaining bundles and still had a couple left. I stuffed them into my bra and my pants, and I hurled myself down the stairs, hanging on to the tote and the duffel. I raced down the short hall and slid to a stop at the door. I said a short prayer, opened the door, and found Connie standing there, wearing a mask.

Connie grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. “Run,” she said. “There’s a fire truck out front and another at the corner. And some Sunflower goon just arrived in a full contamination suit.”

Lula was in the car with the motor running. We dove in, and Lula took off.

EIGHTEEN

I RIPPED THE mask off my face and took a deep breath. “Whoa,” I said. “What the heck is that smell?”

“It’s you,” Connie said. “You’ve absorbed stink.”

“It’s horrible! I smell like vomit and really bad cheese.”

“Yeah,” Connie said. “This was a good batch.”

Lula rolled the windows down. “My eyes are watering. I’m losing my appetite for chicken. Are both those bags full of money?”

“Yep.” I took money out of my pants and my bra and handed it over to Connie. “I have no idea how much money is here. I didn’t take the time to look. I just stuffed everything in the bags and ran. I got there at a good time. The safe was open but empty. They were either getting ready to put the money away or move it.”

“I can’t believe we did this,” Lula said. “This was totally the shit. This was the bomb. And it don’t even look like we’re being followed.”

Connie and I turned and looked to make sure.

“I think we pulled it off,” Connie said.

And she giggled. And then Lula and I giggled. This was pretty weird, because we’re not necessarily gigglers, but men spit and scratch their nuts and do high-five hand slaps when they get away with stupid shit . . . and women giggle. I’m not sure which is worse, but I’m glad I’m not inclined to scratch myself in private places in public.

“We’re good,” Lula said. “How many bitches could steal all this money and not get caught? I’m telling you, I’m talking about a new career. We could be the Three Mouseketeers.”

“I think you mean Musketeers,” I said to Lula.

“Whatever. We could give ourselves a cool name, and we could do heists and capers. Only thing is, next time we gotta call a cab for Stephanie, so she doesn’t smell up the car. I’m glad we’re not in my Firebird.”