Project Hero

by Briar Prescott

I’m the guy who looks like the boring neighbor that lives across the hall from you and later turns out to be a cannibal with a freezer full of body parts in his spare bedroom.

The goal is to observe and when baseball cap here leaves, I’ll be on it like cream cheese on a bagel,

Law’s smile widens. “That seems unfair. How am I supposed to know about this nonverbal, non-written agreement?”

“That’s a good idea in theory,” I agree, “but since stealing a wallet is usually something you do without going all Ocean’s Eleven about it, pickpockets have to cross their fingers and hope that they get lucky. Maybe the mark has been to the ATM recently and has taken out a thousand bucks.”

“I’m too sexy,” I deadpan. “People find it hard to resist me, which let me tell you, makes walking down the street a real challenge.”

I’ve always considered myself a well-organized person, but compared to Andy I’m a slob who writes his notes on rolls of toilet paper that I store in a box, mixed with regular toilet paper.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll just eat that chicken alfredo myself then.” Andy glowers at me. “You evil bastard.” I grin as I watch him pull his sneakers on. “It’s my grandma’s recipe with extra cheese.” Andy shakes his head. “Keep talking. But just remember, people have gone to hell for less, and God is always listening.”

No way did her clothes come from Amazon with the offer of buy two, get the third T-shirt for free.

“I don’t have one. You know what they wrote about me in my yearbook? Most likely to be seen with Falcon Asola. That was my most memorable quality.”

He’s playing me like a world-class violinist does a Stradivarius, and I don’t mind one bit.