Page 63 of Effortless

Cross wordlessly pointed at the microwave across the office. Soon, his friend had hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

“So, hey,” Cross said.

Tom looked over at him. “What?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go on that run with me?”

“Don’t tempt me, Cross.”

“You should go.”

“I should,” Tom agreed.

“But will you?”

Tom chuckled. “That’s the million dollar question.”

It was a while later before Tom’s crew started filtering into the warehouse one by one to pay their dues for the week. Half of his attention was on counting the money while he ate pizza. The other half was on the hockey game.

“Fuck, come on,” Tom groaned. “You know that was a damned goal, you asshole.”

“I saw the playback,” Cross argued, never turning around. “It didn’t go over the line all the way.”

“It did.”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Skip.”

Tom waved a hand at Dale to excuse him from the office just as the machine on the desk beeped to say it had finished counting the bills. Dale had just reached for the door when Tom looked down to see the number on the cash counter.

He hesitated.

Took in the number again.

And again.

“Dale, you’re short,” Tom said.

Instantly, Cross reached for the remote on the couch, and turned down the television. Tom discarded the piece of pizza he had been working on, wiped his hands down on his jeans, and fished the cash out.

“I double counted, Skip,” Dale said.

His tone sounded weak even if his words came off sure.

Tom didn’t miss it, but he opted to ignore Dale as he started slipping through the bills in his hand. He counted them once, and then twice. Finally, Tom set the money down on the corner of the desk, feeling a numbness settle into his bones at the realization settling through his mind.

There was only one reason Dale would be short on cash.

“What were your pickups this week?” Tom asked.

“The three bookies, and a couple of pickups from the Heights.”

Tom nodded. “You know I’m aware how much cash should have come in from those payments, right?”

Dale cleared his throat. “One of the bookies said he didn’t get the total owed from one of his—”

“Bullshit.”