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Fate

Date: 9/11/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: SITTING, Rating: , Source: LushStories

watched in awe. “You guys are professionals,” she breathed. Harry smiled. “You want me to drop you somewhere? Anywhere?” Her smile disappeared. She frowned. There was a long silence. She glanced at him. “I-” “Stick around for a bit,” he said, cutting her off before she said something she didn’t mean. “We’ll figure it out later.” She didn’t disagree. He watched her from the corner of his eye, thought of the greasy brother at the bank and figured it was no small wonder she was reluctant for the escapade to end. Her hands were resting tentatively on the enormous bag of cash in her lap. “Open it,” Harry said. “Make sure they haven’t done me over.” She looked at him, concerned. “Don’t you trust them?” His grin was lopsided. “Not entirely. Knowing Carlo, he’ll have stuffed it with copies of the New York Times.” Isabella carefully pulled back the zip. Money. The way she looked at it made Harry’s stomach hurt. He imagined she was running through all the possibilities in her head, thinking of where it could take her, how it could change her entire life. For half a second he considered telling her to take it. He could hit another bank, couldn’t he? But… no. He’d made promises, given himself responsibilities. And some part of him wanted to keep her around. Cash made people disappear and he didn’t want her gone. There was something about her hard innocence and pretty face that made him feel something he hadn’t ever felt before. “What are you gonna do with it?” Isabella asked quietly, ... her fingertips dancing along the top layer of hundred dollar bills. She looked almost sad. She probably figured he’d buy cars or guns or liquor. Maybe even women. “You’ll find out,” he said. “We’re headed there now.” *** The penny restaurant sat squarely on a desolate street in Brooklyn and attracted thousands of hungry citizens every day. The concept was simple; people too poor to afford food but too proud to accept handouts were able to buy a meal for a cent. Harry had set it up shortly after hitting his third bank and it was run by Samuel, one of his childhood friends. He pulled the car up and Isabella followed him in through the back entrance. The kitchen was well-staffed and noisy, a far cry from the cold streets. Everybody greeted him warmly and the smell of food was heavenly. Harry headed through into a small, cluttered office where a thin Italian man was yelling into a telephone. He slammed it down with gusto, smoothed out the papers in front of him and smiled at his visitors. “Can I help you?” he asked with feigned formality. Harry dropped the bag onto the desk and papers scattered. “Little gift for you, Sam.” Sam cleared his throat and smiled. “Ah. Yes. I did hear the news.” He unzipped the bag and let out a low whistle. “Thank God for the banks,” he said. “We’re getting more folks here every day. Widows, the unemployed, school kids. There was even a government man who came by.” Harry snorted. “Should have sent him away. This place is for those who need it.” Sam ...