A Popcorn Fiction Selection. Three lives intersect during a bank heist. Then proceed to betray each other.
Let the bank rob the bank. That was the plan. Arbogast had come up with it all, but that only made sense. He was the thinker, the planner. “Einstein” they used to call him back in the neighborhood. You had a problem? You needed a solution? You went to see Arbogast. Not that he wanted to help. Not a chance in hell of that. It was just he was so damn proud of his own thought process. He’d help you out just to show he could. Just to rub your face in your own stupidity. Be a thinker not a stinker. He never got tired of saying that. Whether it was to a kid on the corner or to himself while picking up spent shell casings, it always applied. That’s not to say thinking didn’t have a downside. Sometimes the facts you turned up weren’t so great. And as Valentine’s Day approached, Arbogast had been considering two things. One? All the red is to hide the fact that love is really blue. And two? The muse is, was, and always would be a slut.
Janey was what the arsonists like to call ‘an accelerant.’ She didn’t necessarily start the fire, but she sure as shooting made it burn a whole lot brighter, faster and hotter. She was so far from home when Arbogast found her, that she couldn’t remember where home was. About the only thing she could remember was she was never going back. Somewhere along the way she had rejected a literal suicide for a philosophical one. She had fooled herself into thinking it was possible to escape. And the Route 66 to follow always seemed to involve a guy. She’d ridden mean guys, tough guys, and plenty that couldn’t get out of their own dumb dead-end way guys. At first the trick was knowing when to get off, but she quickly learned that they always let you know way ahead of time. Arbogast was different. Arbogast was a genius. This ride had been longer and truer than all the others combined. Scarier, too. But Janey meant to ride it as long as it didn’t kill her. She just hoped she’d know when that was.