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He sends a fantasy to brighten her day.

She just reached in the drawer and handed it over, her hands shaking in fear as she did it.

Out on the freeway, I peeled off the fake moustache and goatee, then wiped the dark coloring off my face and neck with some damp towels. I drove right on by the town where I worked, then turned off the freeway and took the side road back to the shop.

I waited a couple of months before I started spending some of the money, telling Jim a few small details about the inheritence I got from my poor Aunt Ellen.

It was about a year later when I started the Duster up and drove it for the first time. The engine was quiet, no hint of what she could do.

Jim told me I could have my choice of tires and wheels as a bonus for working so hard. He did look at me oddly when I bolted on a set of heavy duty steel ones, and some nice wide performance radials. I carefully cut off the raised white lettering and used some blacking to cover the marks.

I am sure he expected me to go for the fancy mag wheels but I didn't want any standout parts on my machine.

He looked at me oddly again when I used the paint shop to spray the car with a non-descript off white color. This little bitch was a true sleeper, nearly 500 horsepower under the hood, heavy duty suspension and tires. Yet it looked just like some old lady's grocery getter, the kind of car you might pass every day and not even know the make.

I installed the Nitrous system one weekend when no one was around, hiding the bottle in the driver's compartment under the dash.

I was ready.

The skinny fucking black probation officer almost never came around anymore. Hell, it had been nearly 3 years by this time and I looked so squeaky clean that I am sure he had me written down as his greatest success. So I could come and go pretty much as I pleased.

It didn't take me long to find some prick who had a few extra firearms for sale, I selected a solid .357 and handed over the 2 grand price he wanted. Outrageous but I couldn't exactly go to the gun shop and hand them my driver's license.

Yea, I was ready.

Two days later, I was in Mexico.

Within a month, I was shacked up with this little senorita named Teresa that delighted in my giving her a few pesos to buy some pretty blouses and things like that. I mostly sat around and read the news reports about the "Black Bandito" that had hit several banks and jewelry stores in Texas and New Mexico. I always had a laugh at that.

They even posted the pictures in the paper, hell, I didn't fucking recognize myself.

Life was pretty good.

Then one day I was walking by the little cantina in the town, I liked the place because they had outside tables and chairs, customers could sit outside and sip some beer and relax. There was a woman sitting there, she had a familiar look. I almost went on by, then it hit me!

It was Betty, the fucking bitch that had turned me in and got me shot a few years before. Hell, I was sure of it, so I circled back to take another look. Yes, it was her.

She was sitting by herself sipping what looked to be some kind of wine. She looked up at me blankly when I sat down, started to say something, then her eyes widened in shock.

"You owe me fifty grand." I told her.

"Dan...When..? How? When did you get out?" she was rattled.

"I got paroled, where is my money?" I demanded.

"Dan, that is's gone."

"Well, you owe me." I was angry, a bit out of control. I should have just taken off, vanished.

"Come on!" I stood up.

"What?..No, I am waiting for..I am married."

That did it, somehow made it worse. I reached out and grabbed her hand, jerked her to her feet.

Scared the piss out of her, I bet.

She came along easily, maybe partly because I had ahold of her wrist and I wasn't being gentle.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, putting up a small struggle.

"I am going to fuck 50 grand off of your hide!"

", please!..I am married.."

Then she gave up.

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