Page 55 of Factory Thief

We collapse together on the couch, cooing and stroking each other, staring long into each other’s eyes in a moment of pure, sublime connection. All the terror and suspense of the last few days melts away, and all we know is bliss in each other’s arms.

“How come you just left before, Jack?”

I sigh before answering. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me in the way I wanted you.”

She nods. “I wasn’t sure, either. I mean, I’m not a good person, Jack. I’ve lied. I’ve cheated. I’ve stolen. I’m like a twisted version of a modern-day Robin Hood. I rob from the rich to give to myself, and other rich people.”

“At least you don’t steal from the poor.” I stroke a finger through her crimson locks. “Look, Victoria, it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is this: money and objects don’t matter. People matter. Love matters. I’ve never met anyone like you before in my entire life. You’re smart, passionate, and capable of accomplishing anything you set your mind to. I’m in love with you and I want to see where this leads.”

She sighs and nestles into me. “I want the same thing, Jack. I want us to work. I want to see if we can make this last for an entire lifetime.”

VICTORIA

The cheery afternoon sun shines through the kitchen drapes, creating a golden glow on the round sponge cake sitting on the counter. I spread a layer of fudge icing along its surface, grimacing when part of the smooth top crumbles and flakes.

“No, no, no,” I groan, struggling to cover up my mistake without creating a worse situation. “I can break into laser-protected high-tech vaults, but I can’t ice a freaking cake?”

Fortunately, I discover that layering an extra thick morass of fudgy goodness hides my food crime. Once he carves it up with a cake server, who will be able to tell?

I shouldn’t feel too bad about my lack of culinary mastery for these decadent delights. After all, in the last two months Jack has hardly given me time to practice. We’ve spent nearly every moment together.

In fact, he’s spent so much time at my place that we finally decided to formalize the arrangement. Once a guy hangs his toothbrush next to yours, the fight is pretty much over.

Not that we’ve spent every waking moment screwing like rabbits, of course—not every moment. It’s as if the two of us have a lot of time to make up for. Time spent alone, time spent suffering in misery. They say moving in together is a tricky proposition, that familiarity breeds contempt. For some reason, I’m not worried at all. The more I get of Jack in my life, the more I want.

I admire my confection, the icing a bit uneven where I’ve had to patch up holes but overall presenting an appetizing façade. I stare at the white tube of icing I mean to decorate the cake with—‘welcome home Jack’ shouldn’t be too hard, should it?—but before I so much as reach for it, I hear a loud engine rumble up outside.

“Good enough,” I say, picking up the cake by the glass cake stand upon which it rests. I carry it with great caution to the living room and out the front door as Jack backs the moving truck into my driveway.

I smile at him as he gets out and walks up the lawn. I present the cake to him in all its amateurish glory.

“What is this?” He basks in the glow of my humble offering.

“I baked a cake to welcome you to your new home,” I say sweetly. “I mean, I was going to decorate it, but it’s a lot harder than it looks. I guess there’s a reason the saying goes ‘easy as pie’ and not ‘easy as cake,’ am I right?”

He laughs, and we kiss. I set the cake down inside, and we get to work unloading his stuff from the back of the truck.

Jack drags the corrugated aluminum walkway and settles it onto the paved driveway. He looks over at me and grins happily.

“I didn’t bring everything, of course. Some of it was broken, and some of it, well…”

“Some of it what?”

He sighs. “Some of it I just didn’t want to look at any longer, you know? It’s my past. I’d rather focus on my future.”

We tramp up the walkway and into the back of the truck. I take one end of a nightstand and she the other. With care, we walk down the gangplank and rest the nightstand on the grass.

“How did it go?”

He grins. “Just fine, we should close in a week. The offer I accepted was about what I expected. I could have held out for more, but I was tired of dealing with it. I just wanted to move in with you as quickly as possible.”

We kiss warmly, and I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. It’s all right if he didn’t get the full value of his house, I suppose. After all, we haven’t quite spent every moment of the last two months together.

I did have to take a little ‘business’ trip to Italy, where I acquired the item my contact scouted. Thanks to that, and what Jack and I have saved up, there’s really no need to worry about money.

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