we were separated by social services and put into two different foster homes after my drug-addicted mother lost custody of us. Iâd walk in like a normal little kid and once I had goods stuffed into my pants, Iâd walk out just as cool as when I came in. My sister couldnât do it. She was always looking crazy suspicious in the face. Not me, I was all about our survival. Even once we got to foster care, we still had to steal to eat.
Then, as I got older and started boosting clothes and shoes just so I wouldnât get teased in school and in my neighborhood. It was the same for me. Walk in the stores with my rigged bags, get what I wanted, and walk out like I had just purchased everything I had. It was simple.
And, after I was grown, when I started walking into high-end stores with a rack of fake credit cards and calmly buying the most expensive things in the store. I would get into the role of the credit cardholder and everything.
When you have to steal all of your life you quickly learn that showing any sign of emotion could mean the difference between walking away with what you want and being caught red-handed. I was the type who could change faces like a chameleon that changed colors. I guess growing up going from foster homes to group homes and then back to living with a crackhead mother had shaped me in some ways that I wasnât exactly proud of and had turned me into this.
Finally. Matt and I walked into the Regent Bank together hand in hand, smiling like we were the happiest rich couple in the world. It wouldâve been nice for this to be true, but without saying it to each other, Matt and I both knew better. The illusion of a fairy-tale relationship and status in life was all good, but deep down inside, it pained me to admit that this shit was as fake as the identification we held in our possession that said we were Mr. and Mrs. Harold Belton, a wealthy power couple who had money to burn. Matt and I had shared a good laugh calling each other Mr. and Mrs. Belton on our way to the bank. I could tell Yancy was jealous at the mere sight of me but I didnât give a fuck. I figured that whatever thoughts she had about me, sheâd better keep them to herself or else.
For a minute it seemed like old times between Matt and me, but it didnât take long for me to remember the time when I walked into our house and heard him fucking Yancy right in our bed. I was literally sick to my stomach. Truly, I still didnât know how I had held it in this long. If it werenât for me having the bigger picture in mind and a revenge plot cooking in my brain, I wouldâve cut Mattâs dick off and kicked that bitch Yancy down a flight of steps after I beat her ass like her pimp used to do.
âYou ready?â Matt whispered to me as we waited inside the bank. He wrung his hands against each other nervously.
âBorn ready,â I whispered back. âNow be easy because you look straight nervous,â I warned him.
This was one of the biggest jobs weâd taken on in the year and a half since I started our little business. It was also only the second time we pulled a lick together. I usually sent Matt and Yancy to do jobs together. I guess that was my biggest mistake I couldâve ever made.
But then I figured that itâs too late to think about that now. My focus was on being convincing enough to walk out with the cash. Ryan, our computer hacker up in Baltimore, had changed the name on the account of the man whoâd lost his wallet. Now the account was in the name of the fake couple Mr. and Mrs. Belton, which was us. In exchange for his brilliant work, Ryan wanted ten percent of the take for his fee, which was three hundred thousand off the top. At first, when I told Yancy and Matt they tried to complain over the fee, but I screamed on them and asked them how else were we supposed to get our hands on the money. After that, neither one of them had shit to say. Now, nothing was