Scott froze in place, formulating a plan in case Ryan came his way once the phone call had ended, but Ryan exited the kitchen in the opposite direction almost immediately after hanging up the phone, heading out to the patio.

Scott dashed up the stairs. Still pressed for time. He stood in the kitchen to watch as Ryan crossed the patio and walked toward the beach.

Scott paused briefly to observe the boy. What the hell is that kid up to? Had to be drugs. A “stash,” he had said. Twelve hundred dollars. Well, it was kind of nice, really, to consider that the whiz kid with the full scholarship was into some shady shit, carrying around what sounded like a hefty wad of cash, conducting some sort of drug business on the family vacation. It was quite nice, everything about it. Perfect, actually. Because—and Scott couldn’t believe he was so distracted by wondering what precisely Ryan was up to that the critical detail had almost escaped him—the kid had said twelve hundred in cash. That’s what he’d said, right? Too good. Couldn’t be, could it?

Scott just had to find it. He didn’t have much time to spare, but how hard could it be?

He crept into Ryan’s bedroom, where the door was several inches ajar. The room had a pleasant, soupy, lived-in smell. His eyes darted around. Clothing everywhere. Dirty towels. Backpack. Backpack? Nah, too obvious. Glass full of bright blue water on the dresser, a dead crab on top. Weird. Bed stand. He tried to home in on his own instincts, realizing that with all the experience he’d had hiding cash from Lisa, this ought to be easy. Where would I stash twelve hundred dollars? He entered the bathroom connected to Ryan’s room and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. His eyes immediately fell on the toilet plunger, tucked in the back corner of the cabinet. He knew it, he knew it before he even lifted the thing.

He tipped the plunger back an inch off the plywood surface and there it was, a neat little wad of hundreds, halved and held together with a paper clip.

Scott could not believe his luck. He smelled the cash and kissed it. Then he counted out four hundreds—no use robbing the kid for all he was worth, he’d only take what he needed.

He folded up the remaining eight bills, clipped them, slipped them back beneath the plunger. He left the room with his heart in his ears and glanced out the kitchen window to confirm that Ryan was at the beach with the others, before dashing outside to his car.

It was 11:31. He was going to make it to their place with the full payment and time to spare. And he wouldn’t have to give up his watch! Scott pulled out of the driveway and up the street, the sun on his face, and he was so happy, he sang. He fingered the crucifix at his neck. He didn’t particularly like to invoke the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit in his gambling unless it was an absolute emergency, but he also wanted to give credit where credit was due. He lifted the gold piece to his lips and kissed it.