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We take a seat in one of the booths on the far side of the diner where no one else is sitting. We each order milkshakes and burgers.
“I’m sorry,” we say at the same time.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” we say.
Asher relents and lets me speak.
“I’m sorry that you ended up in jail. I didn’t realize the police would mistake the truck as a stolen one. I’m sorry your birthday sucked and that I couldn’t get you out earlier.”
Asher shakes his head. “I’m the one who should apologize. I should have told you the real reason I never have anything nice. Why I haven’t replaced my old truck in years even though it’s broken down. Why I live in a shack on the beach when I have millions sitting in the bank.”
He takes a deep breath as he grimaces and then looks me in the eyes. “It’s because I’m a thief. I used to steal cars; now, I steal women’s hearts. But the police will always believe that anything nice I own is stolen. You need to know my whole story. It starts ten years ago…
* * *
Ten Years Earlier—Asher
I’m not supposed to steal. I know that. I thought I had put the stealing all behind me.
But why is the temptation so great right now?
Maybe because I have had a shitty day. Although that doesn’t make what I’m thinking about doing right. But I’m tempted all the same.
I’ve already done the hard part of sneaking into the garage without getting caught. I watched in my car as the family pulled out of their driveway. Gone for a weeklong vacation. It’s not really a challenge. The family leaves the back door that leads into the garage unlocked so that the various people they’ve hired to take care of the pool and garden have access to their tools. And there isn’t anything of value to steal in the garage anyway. They have a second garage for their fancy cars. But the garage is attached to the house.
I doubt they leave the door leading into the house open, but I try it anyway. It’s locked, like I suspected. But I know where the spare key is. My friend, Sawyer, had to use the spare key to get into the house when he lost his while he was dog-sitting here last month.
I pull up the floor mat and find the key. I put the key in the door and turn it until it unlocks the door. I push the door open, holding my breath, hoping that they haven’t installed an alarm system since I was here with Sawyer. No alarm sounds, so I make my way inside until I’m standing in the family’s expansive living room that is two stories high. I can’t help but look up at the huge ceiling and large windows that sit uncovered, revealing me to the outside world.
No one can see me, I have to remind myself.
It’s dark outside, and I haven’t turned any lights on. Man, I’m rusty at this.
I think about stealing one of their fancy cars. That is my favorite thing to steal. I love the thrill of driving out with a fast car that isn’t mine. The only problem with stealing a car is getting rid of it before you get caught. I’ve done it several times in the past, but I’ve also gotten caught. And I don’t plan on going back to jail anytime soon.
I find the stairs in the dark and begin creeping up them. I know enough from my past that, even if I think everyone has gone, it is better to be quiet. You never know if someone has decided to stay behind in the house even if you think they are all gone.
When I make it to the top of the stairs, I’m greeted by a small, fluffy dog that begins jumping at my feet. They left the dog, which means someone is going to be over at some point to let it out. It probably won’t be till later since they just left, but to be sure, I have to move quickly.
I walk down the hallway until I find the master bedroom. The door is shut, and even though I’m confident that no one is behind it, I slowly and cautiously open the door.
The little dog decides to join me, still jumping at my feet whenever I walk. I hate dogs for this reason. They are horrible at protecting the home they are supposed to be guarding, no matter the size or breed. And they often just drive me nuts while I’m trying to do my job.
When I’m inside the bedroom, I quickly scan the room, trying to decide what to steal. I know the family is rich and most likely has a safe of some sort somewhere around here along with countless pieces of jewelry. I head toward the closet at the back of the room and find the safe. I’m tempted to break into the safe. The best items are in the safe. But the safe is the worst place to steal from. They know exactly what they have in the safe. The items they are less worried about, they keep in the bathroom or bedroom, and those are easier to steal without them noticing.
That’s my target. Items that they won’t even notice missing. So, as much as the safe calls my name, as much as I want to crack it because I can, I won’t.
I turn my attention toward the bathroom and find the jewelry box sitting on top of the counter. I’m wearing gloves, so I don’t have to worry about leaving my fingerprints behind. I open the box and slowly move the jewelry around, trying to find something valuable that doesn’t look like it has been worn in a while. When I get to the back of the box, I find two necklaces in the same container.
I grin. This is exactly what I want. If I take one of the necklaces, it won’t even look like anything is missing. I take the diamond necklace out and stare at it. It’s not the most expensive thing in this house or even in the jewelry box. But the necklace is easily worth twenty thousand to thirty thousand dollars. It’s enough to satisfy my urge to steal.
I place the necklace into my pocket. Then, I close the jewelry box and put everything back in its place. I start looking to see if there are other items in the bathroom or bedroom that are worth stealing when I hear the distant sound of sirens.
Shit. I glance around the room more thoroughly and see motion detectors in the corner of the room.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I must have triggered a silent alarm when I entered the house.
I start running down the stairs in the dark. The yipping dog is still jumping at my feet. I run fast enough that the dog can no longer keep up.
