Growing up a Thief

Chapter 6: Who Are You?

      We woke up pretty early, thanks to the sun beaming through the doomed window into our eyes. I tried suspending morning by covering my head with the blanket, but that plan was foiled by a pillow thrown by Richie. "Oops." 

     Richie and I make our way off the roof and down the fire escape. "So, where do you want to eat? Courtesy of a Mr. Jonathan White, Born: August 15, 1958," I ask, reading off the I.D I took out of the wallet we got last night. 

     Richie giggles a bit, before saying; "Well if it's on Jona... Ehem... Mr. White, how about there?" He points down the street at an old diner with graffiti on the side. 

     We walk in and I'm startled by a voice from behind the counter, "Richie, buddy how are ya?" A tall man with a huge gut, wearing a dirty apron, greets us. Richie must come here often because everyone here is smiling and waving to him.

     "Hey Bobby, I'm good. This is my buddy James. Can we get two of the usual, please and thank you?" Richie orders for us both. I hope I like whatever his usual is.

     We finish up our omelets and Richie goes to pay the bill. He and the cook start talking quietly and I can't hear everything they are saying. But I did manage to catch Richie asking "...well, did you tell them I come around here?... I appreciate it, man, and thanks for breakfast." 

**********

     As we walk down to the park to do our first 'show', I can't help but wonder who Richie was talking about in the diner? Was he in some kind of trouble? Or maybe he's a runaway? All of these thoughts I try and push out of my mind until later, so I can focus on the task at hand. I have never lifted wallets from more than one person at a time before. In fact, I'm still kind of new at the skill altogether. 

     Once we get to the park, Richie and I go our separate ways; from here all I have to do is wait for him to do his thing. "Ladies and gentlemen, gather around! I am this morning's entertainment!" he says, flipping his hat onto his head with ease.

     Watching him do all this stuff really makes me think, how did he learn it? And who from? He isn't fumbling around with fake props, like some kid who found a magic set at the store. Someone trained him and trained him well.

     As a crowd starts to gather I go to work, trying to pick out the snobby, Scrooge like characters in the bunch. When I see my first target I go for it and wedge my way next to him without anyone noticing. It helps being small. I can squeeze through people without a problem. I wait for the moment Richie finishes the first trick and everyone in the crowd starts clapping and cheering. This pulls the man's attention away just long enough for me to take his wallet. 

     This routine goes on for several minutes, Richie doing his thing and me doing mine. No one even suspected anything and after about four wallets I quickly realize I hadn't planned on how I'm going to carry them without being noticed. If I take any more, I'll be walking away like I have a diaper on. So I give a nod to Richie and he tips his hat back at me in acknowledgement. He then finishes his last trick that involves a women reaching into her purse to find a red ball that had gone missing from Richie's hand. As the cheers ring on amongst the crowd of at least a few dozen, he holds his hat out and the people begin filling it with everything from pennies to five dollar bills. 

     I make a quick escape around the corner to wait for him, and I begin taking the money out of the wallets and leaving them in various places along the street, trying not to be seen. The four wallets contained a whopping hundred and nineteen dollars, more money than I think I have ever held in my hands. Richie comes up from behind me and yells, "Gotcha!" Which nearly gives me a heart attack. 

     We combined our takes, and with the money they threw in his hat, we ended up with a hundred and forty nine dollars and thirteen cents. Neither of us expected to have the first time we tried this go so well, but it's like we had been doing it our entire lives. This is enough money to last us weeks, and I have a feeling we will be doing it again very soon.

     As we walk up to the subway, Richie wanted to check out my office. Something catches my eye in a store window; it's a poster, and the kid in the picture looks oddly familiar. I walk over to it as Richie continues straight, not realizing I wasn't next to him for over ten feet, and he continues talking to himself. As I get closer I realize what it is and my heart sinks into my stomach. 

     "Wanted... Jonathan Rossi... Age: 13... Last seen with his uncle, Steven Rossi... Also goes by Richie..."