Page 46 of Trailer Park Billionaire
Iknew he was following me!
But also—and more importantly—did that actually work?
Do I not have to flee to Laos after all?
“But,” Ben says, stifling my optimism for a second, “we’ll need to be smart about this.”
Alex nearly chokes on his own breath. “We can’t give her a hundred grand. We’re not even going to make that much off this painting! Plus, it’s money we need!”
If I were being smart about this, I wouldn't willingly join a criminal operation that’s bound to get me behind bars again, but what fucking choice do I have?
“Well, if you wanted someone to work for free, you should’ve kidnapped an intern,” I deadpan. “Which, by the by, I also do not condone. Pay your interns. And your artists too. Maybe also don’t kidnap them.”
Alexei and Ben exchange a look. One of them is frowning; the other sporting an almost hellish grin. Alexei shakes his head. Ben nods.
“Alex, you know this is what we’ve been waiting for. If we play it right, it could come with a sizable payout for our other projects. We just need to make sure our trickery is thoroughly planned, well executed, and seen through to the very end.”
Alexei’s head slowly stops swinging side to side.
What other projects are they pursuing?
And why would I care? It doesn’t matter.
I shouldn’t have any interest in their criminal activities.
The less I know the better.
What matters is the 100k.
“A sizable payout,” I repeat, and get the feeling that there’s something else Ben is hiding. “You’re thinking of stealing a more valuable painting than the one you were originally intending to steal, aren’t you?”
Alex shakes his head. “We can’t. It’s just not how this works. What are we going to do with an expensive painting if we don’t have a buyer? It would just sit around gathering dust. Buyer comes first. If it were that easy, we’d always just steal the most expensive painting.”
I sigh. That makes sense, unfortunately.
“But this is different,” Ben murmurs, obviously still working something out in his head. “Because this isn’t just any expensive painting.”
Something seems to dawn on Alex. He shakes his head vigorously.
“Yes,” Ben says before his accomplice can interject properly. “The Vindicta.”
Did he just say ‘Vindicta’?
“Indeed,” he replies with sudden certainty. “We’re going to steal Gentileschi’s Vindicta. It makes perfect sense. Usually, we stay away from jobs like this,” he explains to me, “because we can’t draw this much public attention to us, but with your help…”
The tiny room falls silent. Then Ben turns back to Alex. “You just said it: it’s money we need. Can you find a buyer for it? ”
Ben’s friend thinks about his response for a moment, lets out a sigh, then starts wiggling out of the booth before leaving through the door—only to return a minute later with a notebook and a plastic plate of sushi. He sets the food down and gestures for us to eat. By now, I am starving and eagerly reach for a piece, but am stopped by Ben before I can grab one.
“I wouldn’t,” he says. “His stomach is that of an animal. He somehow never gets sick. You probably would.” He looks over to his friend. “One of these days, this is going to land you in the ER.”
Alex scoffs. “It’s perfectly fine gas station sushi from the day before yesterday. It’s even been refrigerated… for the most part.”
When I retract my hand, Alex scoffs again. “Your bloodline is as weak as his, my dear.”
“Alex,” Ben cuts in, “can you or can you not?”
Alex tosses a piece of maki into his mouth and begins browsing through his notebook, which looks tiny in his massive hands. He squeezes back into the bench. It seems like he’s going through a list of names, with his fingers running over each page, his head occasionally shaking or wiggling as if he’s not sure whether someone might qualify as a buyer.
