Good Job

“We did not just pull that off. Am… am I dreaming? We did not just pull that off.”

“Well, Morgan… we did. We fucking did.”

The van erupted with shouting and laughter.

They had just pulled off the biggest heist in U.S. history—the U.S. Treasury. The van they were in was empty, but that was the point. The real van, loaded with cash and gold bars, was already on its way to Florida in a rented U-Haul, waiting to be laundered and melted down.

Months of planning.

A little bit of luck.

And a tad bit of craziness.

Cal was the leader.

Morgan the brains.

Evan the driver.

Bell the technician.

“Hey, I like the celebration, but where to, Cal?” Evan asked.

“There’s a shed in southern Virginia. Just keep taking I-95 south. We’ll drop the weapons and gear there, then we split. You all know the rules—no new cars, no houses, and definitely no fancy vacations.”

“C’mon, Cal, a vacation would be well deserved,” Bell shot back.

“Where?” Cal said, glancing at him. “Don’t forget—on paper, we’re all just mechanics barely scraping by on sixty grand a year.

“Let me figure that out.”

Evan looked into the rearview mirror, confusion written all over his face. Cal and Morgan shared the same look, both staring at Bell.

“Well,” Bell continued, “if we do need to lay low, we go into work tomorrow, act normal. Then Wednesday, we book it—and don’t do what you did last time and book Vegas. That stripper is still texting me.”

Everyone laughed.

They made it to the barn without a problem. Gear was tossed, fuel was poured, and within minutes everything went up in flames. No evidence. No trace.

The next day, they were back at the mechanic shop like nothing ever happened.

By Wednesday, Bell had already booked the flight.

Cancun.

The moment they landed, they checked into the hotel and hit the beach. Bell wasted no time, already flirting at the beachside bar alongside Morgan. Meanwhile, Cal and Evan sat back, beers in hand, watching it all unfold.

“You’ve been quiet these last couple of days, kid. You good?” Cal asked.

“Yeah… I just can’t wrap my head around it. We made history. Not gonna lie… I feel like shit, though.”

“Why?”

“We affected people’s lives.”

Cal let out a laugh.

“Affected people’s lives? No, we didn’t. We didn’t even put a dent in anyone’s lives—that’s America’s job. Yeah, they didn’t expect what we did, but think about it. We pay taxes on everything. Hell, we pay just to exist.”

He took a sip of his beer before continuing.

“Most people can’t even live the American Dream. Nice house, car, college? That’s a joke now. Most people are barely scraping by, working every day just to keep the lights on.”

He looked over at Evan.

“What we did? We showed what happens when you stretch people too thin. Money’s a terrible thing… and we made it that way.”

Cal leaned forward slightly.

“Let me ask you something, Evan—and really think about it. Would you rather be the good guy, struggling every day just to get by… or be the bad guy who gets everything, knowing there’s a cost?”

He paused.

“Because the American Dream? It’s an American nightmare. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t survive my nightmares by being nice to my demons. I face them head on.”

Evan sat there, thinking.

“Well… Robin Hood wasn’t exactly a saint. He still stole from someone.”

Cal smirked.

“Exactly. And my money isn’t just going to me. There are organizations—we help with kids’ registration fees, books, tuition. We donate.”

He chuckled.

“We help some kid learn how to rip people off while we rip off the government with a tax write-off. What do you say about that?”

Evan took a breath.

“…I can do that.”

“Good,” Cal said, leaning back. “Now stop stressing and drink your beer. We’re gonna be here for a week… so I hope your liver’s ready.”