Stealing from the Rich

         I was crouching in the bushes when I spied Uncle Clarence's car driving up. My heart pounded. My plan was in motion.

         My name is Cassie, and I'm a thief. My best friend, a filthy rich bastard named Edwin thinks he's smarter than me. I think I'm smarter than him. I thought back to our meeting in the bar downtown.

         "For every birthday that's a multiple of eleven, my Uncle Clarence gives us eleven presents. They're 'special'. He's very secretive about what they are," he told me. "It's my twenty-second birthday next week. You can't steal my presents." The challenge given, the gauntlet thrown.

         I had to do a lot of detective work to get where I was. But now for the easy part. I'm a really good thief. Today was three days before Edwin's birthday. Some of his family were planning on having dinner at this fancy restaurant to celebrate. I glanced at the gaudy building behind me. Stupid fancy restaurants. I could never afford them.

         Uncle Clarence stepped out of his corvette and handed the keys to the valet. He straightened his tie and began walking to the door. He was a middle-aged man, not very tall, and balding. He was filthy rich like the rest of his family... and wearing blue jeans with his button-down shirt and tie. I grinned. I liked this guy.

         I rubbed at my eyes with the palms of my hands to produce some tears, took a deep breath, then sped out from my hiding place, running like a mad woman. "No! It's not fair!" I shrieked, my words barely understandable through sobs. "It's not fair, It's-" I slammed into Uncle Clarence and we both tumbled to the ground.

         "What's going on? Are you okay? What?" asked Uncle Clarence, flustered, pulling himself up and giving me a hand. I wobbled to my feet with his help, genuinely unaccustomed to the heels I was wearing, as well as that ridiculous red dress.

         "I'm... I'm... I'm okay," I whimpered, wrinkling my face into that expression you get when you're trying not to cry. Or when you're trying to look like you're trying not to cry.

         "Oh, dear, dear, it's okay," he said, sweet, fatherly concern covering his face. He took my hands in his and ducked his head to look into my eyes. "What's wrong?"

         "I-, well, I, see..." I trailed off into a sob, and he pulled me into a hug.

         "It's okay, it's alright." he said, hugging a complete stranger. What a sucker. I loved this guy.

         I finally stepped back, bowed my head, and whispered, "See... it's, it's my boyfriend. I mean... I mean, my ex-boyfriend." I wailed again, as if admitting for the first time the transition from boyfriend-to-ex-boyfriend. "He told me he was going to take me out, right here. And then he called me and said he never wanted to see me again. I was... I was already dressed up!"

         It was a stupid, transparent lie. Anyone should have seen through it. He had fallen, hook line and sinker. I loved this guy! "That's, that's terrible!" he told me.

         And now, wait for it, wait for it... "His name is Edwin," I whispered. Oh, bam! Didn't see that coming, didja?

         "What?" he demanded, shocked. "Edwin?"

         "Yeah, Edwin Brown."

         "We'll see about this," he said, properly outraged.

         The next day, I met Edwin at the same bar again. I grinned at him. "First two gifts, stolen," I announced. "Nine to go."

         He stared at me. "What?"

         "Did Uncle Clarence give you a hug at dinner yesterday, and did he not mention that you're wasting your life?"

         "He didn't give me a hug, he did mention I was wasting my life, as usual," he said, flatly.

         "First gift, hug, stolen. He hugged me. Second gift, not mentioning his judgments about your life, stolen. He didn't judge my life, but he spoke kindly to me. Nine to go."

         "But how did you-?"

         Victory and smugness are great things to feel. "I'm a good thief, Edwin, buddy. Tomorrow, I'm stealing six more. The last three I'm stealing on your birthday. You may not, but I know what every last one of them are. See you tomorrow." I winked at him and waltzed out the door of the bar, and he was left staring at me, dumbstruck. Yes, I love the feeling of victory.