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Strap is just like my father. Once a thief, always a thief.
She wasn't one to talk, but her situation was different.
She shook her head. She couldn't let him go alone. She could sense whatever this was about, it was big, and she needed to make sure he didn’t get away with selling it. It was wrong.
After getting up and listening to Strap explain he needed to find some baseballs, she didn't press the details. She could find out later. Her head was wrapped up in other things.
After eating breakfast, she lounged in her chair, flipping through one of her father's journals. She looked at Strap, who was doing the same on the couch. She'd pulled the boxes filled with her father’s personal items closer.
She rubbed her eyes, having stared at her journal for an hour straight. While she was enjoying reading about her father, she was certainly having a hard time understanding what he wrote.
It was clear he wrote in code because the sentences didn't make sense. She'd read them over and over, confused.
"House the supermarket?" she said, looking at Strap. He glanced at her. "What does that mean?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "Your father wanted this to make no sense if they ever fell into someone's hands, I'm sure. He wasn't just going to say he resold something to someone else."
"What's the code for? He sent you out to buy groceries?"
"We brought the items back home." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll see that a lot. It was kind of his motto."
She shook her head. "And pizza in Washington, DC? Did you steal pizzas too?"
"That's not code." He glanced at her. "That was a place we stopped to eat at after a heist there. Marco’s Pizzeria and Ice Cream. The best damn pizza that side of the ocean."
"Wait … " She leaned forward, nearly dropping the journal. "You and my father went to eat pizza after a heist? And you were in the United States?" Had her father ever tried to see her while she was growing up? Had she seen him and not known it?
"Yeah? Why's that weird?" He shrugged, flipping a page in his journal. She watched his fingers. So nimble for something that could turn into sharp claws.
"I just picture you going out to dinner. Like at a fancy restaurant, talking about whatever it was you stole."
He snorted. "You mean like in the movies?"
"Yes." She nodded, thinking exactly like the movies.
He laughed now, his entire body shaking as he did. He gave her a look. "Believe it or not, it's not like the movies. We didn't do that. I don't think we ever went and dined like that."
"Well, that last one sure felt like it was from a movie. It got my blood pumping."
He laughed again, shaking his head. "What else gets your blood pumping, Mickey?"
She thought about it. "Skydiving. Horseback riding. Oh, I took a plane ride once, and he took the plane in a dive. I just about threw up on the pilot."
His eyes stared at her in shock. She smiled, proud of herself. "I live a fun-filled life." She wasn't going to add how all of that was just in the past few years.
She looked back to the journal, running her eyes over the page. She needed to focus.
She shut the journal as she grabbed another. She looked at Strap, who looked deep in thought now.
She watched him scratch his head, and then he pulled at his shirt, tossing it off. She smirked at him, and he looked at her. "What?"
"See, you are a nudist. You just can't wait to get your clothes off."
"I'm not a nudist," he said, giving her a half smirk. "If that were true, I'd be completely naked. I’m just warm."
She smirked, leaning forward. "No one's stopping you. Go for it."
Do I want him to strip down? A little. He was certainly something to look at.
