Page 94 of Goose

Concealing Cash’s bad decisions and shortcomings suggested her level of respect for each of us, and especially for Baker. I sorted the stacks of bills wondering just what she planned if Cash didn’t apologize. She wasn’t one to make as bold of a statement as she made without a plan.

Reno looked at me, winked, and then got Baker’s attention. “Listen to this.”

Baker’s brows raised. “I’m listening.”

“We get off the freeway and roll up to a light. Fucker goes yellow to red in an instant. Ally does a short stop instead of blowing through it. Ends up two feet past the little white line. Fucking city cop rolls up beside us. Cocksucker starts eye-fucking us, like, ‘what the fuck are you clowns doing?’ Then, he gets that look on his face, like, ‘As soon as this motherfucker turns green, I’m going to pull your asses over.’ Ally realizes this fucker’s on the verge of being a dick. So, what does she do? Rolls down her fucking window, flashes her SDSU cheerleader outfit, and blows that prick a kiss.”

Baker looked at Ally and shook his head.

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”

“The light on Rosecrans?” Baker asked.

Reno nodded. “Yep.”

“I hate that fucking light. So, what did the cop do?”

Reno chuckled. “Fucking light goes green, and he waves back at her. Then, the fucker hauls ass.”

“Like I said. Good work.” Baker surveyed the table’s contents and smiled. “Any ideas on an amount?”

“Somewhere north of seven hundred grand,” Tito said.

Baker whistled. “Jesus.”

It seemed everyone was jumping on the “I like Ally” train, except for Cash. Knowing that sooner or later things would come to a head, I sorted the bills with some reluctance—hoping Cash would pull his head out of his ass before our work ended.

Despite my lack of effort, we eventually finished sorting. After counting and re-counting the money, Baker entered it in the books.

“Seven hundred and eighty grand is a damned nice bank job,” he said.

“Agreed,” I said.

Tito patted Ally on the shoulder. “Good job on that vault.”

“Thank you.”

Reno followed with a congratulatory remark regarding her quick thinking when it came to the cop. We all shared a laugh about him thinking a college cheerleader was flirting with him. When the laughing and storytelling ended, it was three thirty in the morning.

Exhausted, Baker resigned to his upstairs loft.

The rest of us meandered to the elevator as a group.

In its normal snails-like pace, the elevator descended to the basement. Not one word was spoken. After the doors opened, Cash stepped out and turned around.

“I appreciate you not telling Baker what happened,” he said, directing his comment to Ally. “And, I’ll apologize for what I said back at the bank. But I don’t have to respect you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Respect’s earned, and you haven’t done shit to earn it. That’s just how shit works with me.”

“I’m fine with that,” she said. “Now, apologize.”

His eyes narrowed. “I just did.”

“No. You didn’t,” she insisted. “You said, ‘I’ll apologize for what I said back at the bank.’ So, apologize. After you do, I’ll consider this squashed.”

He looked at each of us and then at Ally. “Are you fucking serious?”

“As serious as a dose of dick cancer,” she deadpanned.

After digesting her response, he forced a sigh. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch.”

“Apology accepted.” She spread her arms open wide. “Gimme a hug.”

With reluctance, Cash hugged her.

He broke the embrace and stomped to his bike, obviously mad about the entire situation. After bidding farewell to Reno and Tito, Ally and I walked to the SUV.

I reached for the door handle and paused before opening it. “You took his wallet, didn’t you?”

She peered over the hood. “Sure did.”

Ally planned everything she did. She didn’t take Cash’s wallet out of spite, or for bragging rights. There was a reason behind it.

“Why?” I asked.

Her mouth twisted into a smirk. “You’ll see.”