torn up and thrown away after written

This is not how I wanted it to be.

It’s a good idea. It really does have potential and she is very, very good at what she does. There’s a market for this, something I’ve not tapped into yet, but there could be potential.

Of course though I’m a thief. A damn good thief. The best thief in this fucking city, but this isn’t the same kind of taking. Hell it’s not taking at all, it’s giving someone something that’s a load of shit.

She should have just gone to Huck directly. That’s his game.

Not that I would have let him do it alone, I would have joined up. But this is different for us. Far more different than the cons we’ve run to part people who have too much from their money.

I hated seeing him with her, holding her hand. I know Jason and his women but this one actually suggested that Jason is better off without me than with me. That I’m not a good enough friend. Where would Jason be without me? Where’s Charlie?

(Not that I want to think about where Charlie is. I should have forced him to come back. He’s better than working in the dank bar.)

I feel cornered into this. I’m going to do it because otherwise she’ll do it on her own and Jason won’t survive something happening to her and I won’t let that happen to him. We’ll do this, but I’d rather have made the decision on my own. Than feel obligated to help her because she’s Jason’s friend, because she knows too damn much, because she looks like some little delicate doll that’s in way over her head and who else is going to help if not me. These people, they aren’t people one walks lightly into dealing with. This could be far more dangerous than anything we’ve taken on. Jail isn’t the only fear now, death might very well come into play.

Not that death wasn’t always a fear, but for a long time death was the result of not stealing. It was risk jail and steal or starve to death. Not much of a choice.

Though I need to ask Jason about this, what her motivation is. She doesn’t seem like the greedy type and she said herself, her paintings sold well at the gallery show. Those idiots there were chattering about them like they knew everything about the artist when they were so very wrong seemed impressed enough. So why the forgeries? Why the need for more?

I feel off balance. Somewhere to the left. Like something’s just not right and I can’t sort out what it is, what it could be. Everything is fine, everything’s in place and the pay off from Eric was better than I could have hoped for. There isn’t a new target on my head, especially not from someone who knows enough to actually do some damage. I should be at ease. But something is eating at me, something about this deal about that woman. Something.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Probably just being paranoid.

I’ll feel better soon enough.