"I told you already what the plan was. Have the Mentats gone to your head?" she asked from her seat on the hotel bed.
Her legs were crossed and her gun lay in pieces around her. She was cleanin' it as she did ritualistically once every two weeks or so.
"Not sayin' it bad, but you weren't exactly clear on the plan," I answered from my chair by the door, beer in hand.
She sighed — an attempt to keep her patience I'd begun to notice. She did this thing where she'd straighten her back, huff, and flare her nostrils. She'd look straight ahead with intense focus, blink a few times, then state very plainly what she wanted to convey.
"When we make some money this week, we invest it."
"Yeah, I got that part, but invest it how?"
"Don't interrupt me; I'm getting to that. We invest it in some bullets and hired help. I wanna pull a job."
"What job would require a bunch of people?"
"Don't worry about it yet. I won't tell you until I'm done planning it. All you need to know is that it's a big job, and we'll need some help. It'll pay off, don't worry. You just worry about your end of the plan: making those caps."
"I'll figure out a way to make some caps, but I'd still like to know what this job is."
She started putting her gun back together. "I don't trust anyone with the information yet. You're lucky I told you anything at all."
I stood up from the chair and set the beer bottle on the nightstand next to the bed. I hovered over her and raised an eyebrow. "You don't trust me? After all this time?"
She looked over and eyed the bottle. "I don't trust you with money. And this job is going to get us a lot of money."
I scoffed. "You know... if it's important to you, I'll do what I can to make it happen. You can tell me anything."
"Oh, John, that's very sweet. I'll take you up on that offer. Do whatever I need you to do to succeed for us, but you'll find out what the job is after the plan is complete."
I shoved my hands in my pockets, feelin' pretty defeated. I just wanted her to open up to me. I admit, the allure of her mysterious personality was sexy, but after a while, I found myself lookin' for more than just sexy. I was lookin' for something to grasp onto.
Every now and then, Maggie would throw me a bone and give me what I crave — that psychological need, knowin' someone's got my back, someone cares about me. But on days like today, she'd come off as cold and cynical.
"How many Mentats have you had today?" I asked.
"How many beers have you had?" she retorted.
"I'm not askin' to attack you, love. I'm askin' because you're actin' a little irritable today. Have you eaten anything?"
She rolled her eyes as she put the clip back into her reassembled gun. "With what money? The money you spent on beer?"
"I know you've got some money in your pockets. You need to eat."
"Don't mother me, John." She stood up from the bed and holstered her gun. "If you want me to eat, go make us some money. Do what you're good at."
"Hey, don't treat me like I only got one job to fulfill. Remember, I don't gotta stay here if I don't wanna."
She pointed to the door. "Go. If that's what you want to do, then go. But remember: you won't find a better partnership anywhere else."
It was true. There was only one Maggie Black in the world. She was irritating and intoxicating, a lover and a fighter, and she drove me fuckin' bat-shit-crazy but also fed my wild side. I had already fallen for her long ago. It was hard to quit her now.

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FO4 | Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy ✔️
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