One Hundred Ninety-Four Left to Go

"One hundred ninety-four left to go."

It seemed unreal when Val described the job to me.

"Only two hundred?" I asked.

"Two hundred, exactly," Val replied.

"Security?"

"Minimal at the most."

"Hiccups?"

"Not once in my entire life."

Val was always funny, even when everyone else was all business. It made it almost impossible to tell when she was being serious.

"Remind me again, what are the specifics," I said with a cadence that made it clear I wasn't asking a question.

"Remind me again, what specifics were you wanting?"

"Come on, Val, don't yank my chain about a job like this. You said 200, but you didn't say where. You didn't say when. You haven't even so much as told me what crew I'm going to be working with. I mean, what if I don't know them? What if the vibe is off?"

Val laughed so loud I thought the windows were going to shatter.

"How about this... Here. Now. Me. And it most certainly isn't."

All I could do was stare, dumbfounded that I hadn't already caught on.

"Val?"

"Yes, my ever-trusting partner in crime?"

This was it. The finish line was in sight.

"You son of a-"