Smiling to himself, Pete left the dark trailer, locked it up and replaced the key—careful to put it back exactly how he found it.

Walking across the dead basecamp, he laughed out loud, already envisioning the look on Jimmy’s face.

PETE WASN’T DISAPPOINTED. JIMMY HELD the underwear as if a baby bird made of pure gold had shit diamonds on his palm. Pete prayed the guy wasn’t going to do anything further with the thong until he was well out of Pete’s sight.

In his pocket, the money felt fat and hungry. It seemed to be leaking into his skin, flooding his veins, filling his pumping heart with a desperate need for MORE. Pete licked his lips, but his mouth stayed dry. His throat clenched. He was sweating a little. This is what greed feels like, a voice inside his head reported, a sly voice with laughter on its edges. Hope you dig it, man.

Pete shook his head, rubbed at one stubbled cheek. Thoughts and emotions were stirring deep inside him: guilt, shame, greed, elation, disappointment. He tried to think, and then not to think, what Noemi would say if she knew. What Gina would think of him.

He watched Jimmy staring at the underwear and felt sickness rise inside him. He wanted to hurt this guy. He wanted to pound his face in, break his knees, bust him up good and leave him bleeding and crying. It was Jimmy who’d made him feel this way. Jimmy who had forced him to do something that made him feel like shit about himself, his life, his self-worth. And yet ….

That money was still bleeding its black poison into his thigh, pressing against him, whispering: More … there’s always more.

Part of Pete welcomed that voice. Reminded him of the old days, of his youth. When he wanted so much, when money and street cred meant the world. Pete watched this stranger fondling the underwear and revulsion passed over him like a wave. What the fuck am I doing? he thought, and knew it had gone too far. He wasn’t that kid anymore and it was the time for the man, the husband and father inside him, to take a stand.

“All right, dude. I hooked you up. Now you gotta go,” he said, his tone leaving no room for question. “And listen … I don’t think you should come back. You got what you wanted, okay? It’s too risky. Tomorrow night just stay home. Enjoy your, you know, mug and shit.”

Jimmy’s smile tucked itself away, and the underwear disappeared into the pouch of his hoody. Pete noticed the hand holding the fabric stayed in the pouch, as well. Jimmy seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “I see your point. And to be frank, you’ve far exceeded my expectations already. It won’t do to be greedy.”

Pete’s relief, to his surprise, was mingled with a taint of disappointment. Disappointed that Jimmy had acquiesced so quickly. But the dude was right, it wouldn’t do to push things, and eight hundred bucks was a solid take. Still… how much more was there where that came from?

As if sensing Pete’s internal struggle, Jimmy took a step closer. Spoke quietly. “Tell you what. Why don’t I just give you my cell number.”

“No, bro….”

“Just … just listen. Take my cell. If you come across anything … special … that you think I’d like. Just text me and I’ll come running, so to speak.”

“No,” Pete said, waving a dismissive hand, “that’s cool. I don’t want your fucking cell number. I don’t want to know you, to be honest. I want to forget you. You’re a weird dude and you give me the creeps. So just take your undies and fuck off, okay?”

Pete was surprised when Jimmy smiled, as if Pete was telling a joke, leading to a punchline Jimmy knew by heart, but loved hearing it nonetheless. It’s funny every time.

“Pete, I’m rich,” Jimmy said, and Pete tensed at the smarmy tone. “Like, not shitting around. Rich. My interest alone makes me worth millions, okay? I’ve got so much money, I … I swear to God, I haven’t a clue what to do with it all. I’ve sold my company, and now I do nothing but… I don’t know, find ways to spend money. It’s a problem, frankly.”

Pete narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look rich. You dress crappy, for one.”

Jimmy shrugged. “What’s the point? I sit around all day, buying things online or planning trips. I hang out at my pool. I have few friends … why get all dressed up? The point I’m making, is that the …

what? Eight hundred bucks I’ve given you. I can spend more than that on a good breakfast, you feel me?”

Pete said nothing, but the paper in his pocket was screaming.

“So, take my number. If you come across something … like I said …

special. Just … let me know. I promise to make it worth your while, okay?”

LATER, WITH JIMMY AND HIS souvenirs long gone, Pete sulked in the cold night. He felt the burn of money in one pocket and Jimmy’s number—typed into his phone against his better judgment—in the other. All-in-all, the whole thing made Pete want to take a week-long shower. More than anything, he wanted to get off this movie and forget any of this ever happened.

He blew a hot breath into the dark, stared up at the pocked moon. A chill crept into his toes. Part of him felt like he was being watched; another part felt like he was watching himself, sitting there, slumped over. Miscast as the hero.

4

PETE ARRIVED HOME AT NINE a.m. to find Noemi strapping Gina into her Wonder Woman backpack.

“Daddy!” Gina screeched and threw her arms around his legs.

Surprised to see them, he picked Gina up and hugged her tight, kissed her cheek and head. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he saw a frazzled Noemi over her small shoulder, waiting patiently, car keys jingling in her hand.

“The truck is dead,” she said, reading his expression. “Can you believe it? Anyway, we’re late. I was about to call you ….”

Pete put Gina down, gave the top of her head one last kiss. “What do you mean, dead?”

Noemi shrugged. “It’s not the battery. It started, made it as far as the street, then clunked, then smoked. Now there’s oil spilling from beneath. You didn’t see it?”

“No … I just saw your spot was empty ….”

“Anyway, I need the Honda keys. I’ll be back around six and then you can take it back for work tonight.”

“Wait, how am I going to pick up Gina?”

“You’re not. She’s going to Mary Stuart’s after school. They’ll give her dinner, and the girls can play. I’ll pick her up on my way home. It’s all taken care of. Now … we’re late, so … keys.”

Pete handed over the Honda keys, already thinking about the damage to the truck. He used the truck on weekends for small construction jobs. If the engine was messed up …. He pushed the thoughts away. Too tired to give it any more energy. “Well, I’m glad I got to see you two. I hate missing the mornings.”

“Yeah, right,” Noemi said, smiling. She gave Pete a warm kiss, then moved her mouth to his ear. “Miss the nights, too.”

Pete put a hand around his wife’s waist, squeezed. “Just one more night on this one, then Marco’s moving me to a different show.”

“Okay, good,” she said, then put a hand on Gina’s shoulder. “You ready, my love?”

“Ready. Bye, Dad.”

Pete closed the door behind them. He felt sick, exhausted, badly in need of a shower and some sleep. He walked in a daze to the bedroom, too tired to eat anything as he normally did when getting home.

He emptied his pockets, stuffed the cash into his sock drawer with the other money, undressed, and hung up his uniform.

The shower couldn’t get hot enough, and he stayed under the beating water ten minutes longer than usual, hoping to feel refreshed, hoping to feel himself again. He’d go look at the truck later, see how bad the damage was. He knew a guy who could fix it cheap, but if it was a major deal, he might need a new one.

He thought about the money in the sock drawer … then made himself forget it. That was for Gina’s computer, and besides, they had savings. It would be fine.