A cigarette burned in my fingers as I looked across my cards at the man sitting across from me. He was my best friend, but friendship didn’t mean anything when we were gambling. The last few dollars I had to my name were on the table and I wouldn’t even be able to pay my tab if I lost. I had a pair of kings next to an assortment of numbers, but Floyd had shown an ace when he threw four cards across the table. If he drew an ace, then he had the winning hand. If he didn’t, the odds were in my favor.

Despite knowing Floyd since we were kids, I never could read his face. He smiled when he was angry, frowned when he was happy, and could keep a stone-cold sober stare while he busted a nut. The emotionless slate he presented to me as he stared at his cards could mean he had a royal flush and I wouldn’t have been able to tell. I squeezed the cigarette between my lips and inhaled deeply before exhaling and tapping my fingers on the table. We were at the point of no return where Floyd knew he had me over a barrel if I lost. Even though his face didn’t reflect it, I knew he took great pleasure in having me in that position.

“So, you’re out of money...” Floyd narrowed his eyes. “Which means I can’t raise you.”

“Show your cards—if you drew an ace, then just end it.” I ran my fingers across my cards and prepared to lay them out on the table.

“How about I put another hundred in the pot and if I win, you have to do a job with me.” Floyd tapped the money that was haphazardly stacked next to his beer.

“I can’t go back to prison.” I shook my head back and forth. “That ain’t fair.”

“It’ll be an easy job—no risks.” His emotionless stare could have been plotting murder for all I knew.

“Nothing is that easy.” I shook my head again. “If you’ve come up with it, there are risks.”

“Well, I mean—of course there is some risk.” He shrugged. “But nothing that would get us locked up.”

“I have a record. They’ll lock me up for a speeding ticket at this point.” I took another drag from my cigarette and exhaled before reaching for my beer.

“What’s so bad about prison anyway? You get three meals a day, a warm bed to sleep in—someone to hold you when you’re sad.” He tapped the stack of money again. “You need this.”

“I do.” I sipped my beer and sighed. “Fine, let’s do it. Show me your cards.”

***

A N HOUR LATER, I WAS standing outside the airport in Las Vegas with no money in my pocket and my last cigarette doing absolutely nothing to make the situation less stressful than it already was. Floyd didn’t just have two aces, he had three. The cards had fucked me and if Floyd’s plan didn’t work out, I was going back to prison. I flicked the cigarette butt into the street after taking my last puff and headed towards the terminal. Floyd’s plan involved stealing luggage. It was something he had done before, but I had never been a part of it. Floyd was already in the terminal and surveying the scene when I walked up the baggage claim.

The plane was from Atlanta, which meant it was likely full of tourists. Floyd was convinced there was a treasure trove in one of the suitcases, if we could just find the right one. He took his spot next to an older lady with a cup of coffee in his hand. The plan was simple. He would point out a suitcase, pretend to reach for it, and then fall into the old lady. The chaos of knocking her down and spilling his coffee all over a couple of people next to her would provide a distraction so I could pick up the suitcase he pointed out and walk away undetected.

Except for all these fucking cameras.

I had a hat pulled down over my face and I tried to avoid looking up so they could see my face. We watched as several bags rolled by and then Floyd pointed out a large black suitcase that had a University of Georgia tag hanging from the handle. I wasn’t sure what made it special other than the fact it was stuffed so tight the zipper was bulging. Floyd started his routine, just as he described it. He reached for the suitcase, tripped over his feet, crashed into the old lady, and sent the coffee cup with a loose lid flying into the crowd. There was an immediate uproar and all eyes centered on him except mine. He started apologizing profusely as he started to stand, but then fell again and had to be helped up by a man next to him. The people who had coffee spilled on them were going crazy and yelling at him, while others were more concerned about the old lady. I snatched the suitcase when the conveyor belt brought it around to me and grabbed the smaller duffel bag next to it before calmly walking towards the exit. I wanted to break out into a sprint, but anything out of the ordinary would draw attention, so I just kept my gait as steady as it could be.

Almost home free—just keep walking.

“Wait, I think you have my bag. Sir!” A woman’s voice called out behind me.

“Shit...” I muttered under my breath and picked up the pace towards the exit.

The chaos at the baggage claim drew the attention of the two guards standing near the entrance, so they didn’t notice the woman yelling about her bag. I knew that wouldn’t last long once the woman realized I was intentionally stealing her luggage and not making a simple mistake. I pulled the bag with wheels as fast as I could while clutching the duffel bag in my hand. My truck was parked at the end of the first row, so once I turned the corner, I felt like I was home free.

I shifted my head to the side so I could look behind me and saw a hand waving while brown hair blew in the wind. She was still chasing me. I pulled the bag with wheels off the ground and started moving at a faster pace when I got close to my truck. I knew there were cameras everywhere, but my license plate was covered in mud to avoid anyone getting the number. I tossed both suitcases into the truck and pulled out of the parking space as the woman turned the corner. She looked around quickly, but she didn’t spot me as I drove away.

“Fucking hell...” I reached into my pocket for a cigarette and then remembered I was out.

Fuck!