1.20

The swindle of Jason Dorrigan was almost complete. Twenty thousand dollars lay, crisp and clean, stacked and sorted on the countertop of the closed-for-business nouveau riche café. Jason looked, kindly, into his precious con artist's eyes, so ravenous and strong. Now that the money was within Billy's grasp, the whole escapade was nearing an erstwhile attitude, and nostalgia for the time he was currently living threatened to choke Jason. He pushed the satchel across the counter, as though indicating that it was, finally, okay for Billy to hungrily shovel the short stacks of greenbacks safely away. Jason knew he would never see the fake children who were supposedly getting a new playground with this cash. He made a mental note to donate a concomitant sum to the Catholic daycare down the street, as though that would somehow absolve him of this six-week sin he had engaged in. You know, at the end, it was rather good, and well worth the money. His mother wouldn't understand, but then, she thought a cruise was a good investment. She hadn't had an exciting day since the sixties.
Jason nearly broke down when, satchel on his shoulder, Billy paused at the door. But the dashing criminal only pushed out into the wind-whipped streets of Jason's suddenly unfamiliar city without a backward glance.
"Goodbye," Jason croaked, and pulled out his telephone to tell his banker to stop investing in breakfast joints.