Early Checkout

People had let stuff in his rental before: Phone chargers. Towels. One time, someone even left an empty duffel bag on the sectional.

"What did they pack their stuff in when they left," he wondered at the time.

He did his usual sweep that he did every time on the days that a guest checked out of his rental, but this last guest left the night before, with no notice other than a quick text around 1:00 a.m.

"Oh well," he thought. He still got his $675 regardless.

He was on his way out the door and almost left without even spotting it. The double-take as he passed the kitchen island and into the foyer caused him to stop in his tracks and turn around at the waist. There lay a small black notebook, hanging half-off the corner of the countertop. It was just sitting there, as if it were a prone free climber, slowly edging toward the end of a jagged cliff face, staring down into an abyss.

He swiped it off of the counter mid-stride and proceeded out the door and to a car with an ride-share sticker in the rear windshield. He'd work until three or four that day then see if he could get in touch with the notebook's owner to get it back to her. He'd seen her picture when she booked her stay and thought she was kinda cute; maybe he'd meet up with her over drinks to give the notebook back. Hell, she was cute; maybe they'd end up back at his place and fool around on the sectional.

He got into the car with the Uber sticker in the rear window and frisbeed the notebook in the passenger seat so that it butterflied itself upon upon landing. He saw big block letters on the page facing back at him.

"NOON. 5500 BEACH BLVD.

BLK SUV W TINTED WINDOWS. BACK SEAT.

He KNEW that address. He's been there countless times on dates. He was only a mile and a half away.

"Eh...what the hell," he seemed to say with his shoulders and a synchronized head tilt. He turned toward his new destination to see what he could find, if anything. Who knows when the note was written. If he got there and it turned out to be nothing, he'd stop in for a beer.

He was there before he knew it, and was even more surprised when he sat in his car, facing a black Volvo SUV. He couldn't see in, but he had a feeling that no one was in it. On that note, he thought, there didn't seem to be anyone around at all; the place was closed for some reason.

After grabbing the notebook and unbuckling his seatbelt, he hopped out of his car and slammed the door, looking around as inconspicuously as he could to see if anyone was watching him. The coast seemed to be clear, but he had the feeling of being watched the entire time.

"You're just being paranoid," he thought to himself.

With an interior monologue of "fuck it," he and his loose-leaf friend approached the car and faced the rear driver's-side door. Grabbing the handle, he realized it was locked.

"Figures," he said, exasperatingly.

Before he could even finish the "s" at the end of his outburst, he looked own to see the fob resting atop the rear tire. It seemed just a bit too convenient, but he wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. He immediately grabbed it and unlocked the car. In another quick mother, he swung the door open, only to see what looked to be a cooler sitting on a green duffle bag.

Moving the cooler off, he unzipped the bag like a knife slashing through a trash bag and bundles of money spilled out like guts out of a disembodied animals. He'd never seen anything like it, and his mind started racing with the things he'd be able to do with the money, not once considering how he'd explain it or keep it quiet.

He gathered the money back into the bag and zipped it up, again looking around for any witnesses. As he stood up to shut the door and walk away, he looked up again at the cooler, which he had completely forgotten about.

"Might as well," he thought, thinking he might as well see what's in it.

He lifted the duffel and lay it on the pavement next to him, and slid the cooler towards him. Unclasping the locks on the side, he lifted the lid. It took him a second or two to realize what he was looking at; the glass vials had a beautiful jewel-like appearance to them. There were dozens, if not hundreds, in there, and their uniformity gave the find a beauty he didn't expect to see.

Slinging the duffel over his shoulder, he shut the lid on the cooler and lifted his newfound trove from the vehicle, kicking the door shut and turned around to head back to his vehicle. He couldn't help but grin ear-to-ear, with a feeling of satisfaction that no one on Earth knew what he had and that he'd never have to worry about money ever again. In just a matter of seconds, all his problems were seemingly solved, forever.

He didn't notice the pair standing behind him, and didn't even feel the blow to his head that instantly dropped him to the surface of the parking lot that killed him before his head slammed to the ground, fracturing his skull to the point of cracking open like a watermelon. The pair threw the bag back into its original spot in the back seat, along with the cooler. The drove off without saying a word, leaving their mark behind them, motionless and cold.

When they arrived back at the rental, the female of the two immediately went to the fridge to empty the contents of the cooler, after being prompted almost telepathically by her male counterpart, who proceeded to plop down on the sectional. He opened the duffel bag to eyeball its contents, as if to mentally count the money to ensure it was all there. Once he was satisfied with the amount of stacks, he whipped out a laptop, seemingly out of nowhere and began clacking away. After a few minutes, he ceremoniously closed it and stood up.

Then, in perfect synch, they stood up and left the condo and sped away out of the parking lot and onto the avenue.

The next booking was at four.