Lewis had stolen things before—a toy when he was a child, a few things out of a neighbor’s house, shoplifted an item or two at the occasional convenience store when he was a little older. But never before had he felt like such a criminal.
As he walked toward the door to exit the bank, he felt that the security guard was eyeing him, felt as if all the security cameras were swiveling around to keep him in sight.
He kept expecting someone to say “Stop! Wait!” Expected someone to chase after him, tackle him in the bank’s lobby, just before the door, and wrestle away the fifty thousand dollars in cash he had in the envelope in his jeans pocket. But a moment later, Lewis was outside, walking toward his truck, where Freddy sat in the passenger seat. Lewis climbed in, shut the door, and wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow.
“You get it?” Freddy said.
Lewis dug the money out of his pocket, held it out to Freddy. “Tomorrow, man. The day after at the latest. That’s what you said, right?”
“Yeah, man. That’s when I’ll get it back to you.”
“You promise?”
Freddy paused a little longer than Lewis thought he should have. “Yeah. I promise.”
For a brief moment, Lewis thought not to let go of the envelope, then he finally surrendered it to his best friend.