Expensive Secrets

“Do you have it?” Lyle asked. His eyes scanned Mack, a young punk, wearing a long overcoat.

“Yeah. I got ‘em.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a jar of coins.

“Good. I see you even unpackaged them just like I told you.”

“I don’t get it. What do you want with all these old coins?”

“I told you not to ask any questions. Now, get the hell out of my limousine, and remember if anything gets out. You’ll be dead by the end of the week.”

“Fine. You got my money?”

Lyle produced a small white envelope and pressed it into Mack’s hand. Mack started to open it, but Lyle’s steely eyes stopped him. Mack nodded, slipped the envelop in his jacket, and exited.

The limousine rolled to a stop in front of Harrah’s. The lights of the casino blinked and beckoned. Lyle poured the nickels in his pocket and he pulled the door handle. Two old ladies passed in front of him and he scanned the sparse crowd. A valet approached. Lyle waved him away.

“Are you Lyle?” A gruff voice from his right intoned. He peered over that direction where a six foot six giant of a man stood.

“Yeah.”

“Right this way.” The man strolled toward the door. Lyle followed, and they both entered and crossed the busy casino floor. People parted like a school of fish at the man’s advance. He stopped before a nickel slot machine, and nodded to Lyle.

“I think you’ll like this machine.”

“Thank you.” Lyle took a step closer and whispered, “I hope this works. The FBI has been on my ass all day long. Just deliver the blue dress to the address.”

“Done. We’ll empty this machine when you leave. Mr. Clinton will get his dress.”


299 Words
Flash Story Must contain: Jar of Coins, Limousine, Blue Dress