I Told You, Eli Oxley

Chapter Thirty-Three

What do you want to hear about first – bank hacking or girl chasing? How about both?

It started with a conversation I had with the crew, including Gabe (Finally, we get to Gabe). I let them know that I intended to hack a bank, and the jail break was a lower priority for me. They didn't seem too happy.

"Uh, Eli? You know that's highly illegal, right?" Brett said. "And that's not what we're about."

"You don't have to help me," I shot back. "I can do it on my own."

"Not on our computers, you're not," Brett said.

"What's your problem?" I said.

"Yeah, Brett," JT said, "If he wants to do it, let him do it."

"And let him get traced back to us?" Brett said.

"Eli's a big boy," JT said. "He knows what he's doing. He won't get caught."

I was more than angry with the situation. Thankful for JT for once – yes. A little. But I shouldn't need someone taking up for me. Brett was freaking out for nothing. And David and Gabe were silent. Further, I needed everyone's cooperation for my plan to work (I'll get to that soon enough).

"Still, it's not what we do. We're supposed to be White Hat all the way," Brett said to the group, then turned to me. "How much are you taking?"

"Just enough for next semester, so about 15k," I said.

"And what about next year? You gonna steal another 30k? And the year after that? And what's to stop you if you can't find a good job after college?"

"It'll be fine," I said. "One and done."

"You're naive to believe that," Brett said.

"I'm not naive, you prick," I said. It wasn't what I said, but how I said it. I was ready to throw down, as they say. I stared him down, daring him to challenge me. He did. When he jumped up, I was reminded of how massive he was. Though I was taller, he was twice my size. But in the moment, I didn't care. I didn't shy away.

Before he reached me, JT and Gabe both shot up in between us.

"Brett," Gabe said, he himself glaring at Brett, "calm down. Eli, come with me."

JT held Brett back, though it seemed like Brett's demeanor was already dropping back to normal levels. I followed Gabe out the basement door and up the stairs. He led me past my bedroom and down the hall into his own where he lived his reclusive life.

If the basement had an impressive layout of computers, Gabe's room was awful, as in full of awe. Stunning. Wall-to-wall computer monitors – actually mounted to the walls – each serving its own purpose. Two 60-inch touch-screen monitors. An eight-foot long desk stacked with a row of computer equipment I didn't recognize, but looked cool nonetheless. Then there was the main desk that had a quad-LCD setup, each of the four monitors making up one giant semi-circle of a screen that curved around whoever sat in the center.

"Welcome to the desert . . . of the real," Gabe said.

"What?"

"The Matrix?"

"Oh, right," I said. "How did you afford all this?"

"Inheritance. Parents died in a car wreck a few years back."

"Shit, man."

"No worries," he said. "So you've got a lot going on, don't you?" he said.

"There've been some changes recently that I've been dealing with."