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“Hello, welcome to Wells Fargo. I’m Kelli, how can I help you?” a young blonde banker asked as soon as we walked in.
“Yes, uh, I need to close my accounts.”
“Oh, well, that’s a shame. Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to two chairs in front of her desk. “Do you have your account number?”
I handed her all my information, including my license and debit card. She clicked a few keys on her keyboard and studied a monitor in front of her. Her eyes widened a bit before she checked her expression.
“It’s unusual to see someone so young with a balance like this.”
Bridge looked at me, no doubt wondering how much I had. Little did she know. You see, it wasn’t that I didn’t really want her to know. I just didn’t want her to know how I got it.
“Uh, yeah, I’m a good saver,” I evaded.
She smiled. “Oh, well, is there anything we can do to keep your business?”
“Unfortunately, no. The bank’s been great. I just-we’re moving.”
“Oh, I see. That’s nice. Where are you moving to?” she asked. Nosy fool.
“Virginia,” I lied quickly.
“Oh, going to school there?” she fished.
“I am,” I lied again.
“All right,” she said, turning back toward her computer. “This is your balance.” She discreetly wrote the figure on a piece of paper and slid it over to me. I glanced over at it to make sure it fit the number I remembered. The number was correct, but underneath she’d added another message of her own, including her phone number.
I slid the piece of paper into my back pocket and smiled. “Thanks,” I said. The last thing I needed if my father waltzed in here asking if anyone had seen us was this ridiculous girl squealing.
Kelli handed me a withdrawal slip and I began to fill it out, shielding the amount from Bridge nonchalantly with my forearm. I’d done some math and research before we left and knew exactly how much cash I needed to purchase a modest truck with, as well as the essentials, like gas and food for the trip there.
“The remaining in a cashier’s check?” she asked, smiling at me like she’d won something.
“Yes, please,” I smiled back.
She stood and walked to the teller’s station.
“What are you going to do with a cashier’s check?” Bridge asked.
“I can’t very well walk around with thousands of dollars in my pocket, can I?”
She eyed me, one brow raised precariously over her eye. “I don’t know. It depends on how many thousands you have.”
I sighed. “You think you’re so clever.”
She laughed. “I know I am.”
I grinned at her. “It’s a lot of thousands.”
Her gaze narrowed on me, her arms locked around herself. “What the hell did you do?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” I said, leaning back into my chair but turning my own stare out the window to my left.
“Bull. Complete bull,” she said, calling me out. “No more lies, dude. Spill. What is going on?”
“I may have been a sort of a lackey for Dad.”
She sat up a little. “No, Spence,” she said, sounding more than a little disappointed.
