Finders Keepers

♙| extended summary

♙ extended summary | (next update - june9th) ♙

"I have a bad feeling about this..." Brooklyn mumbled under her breath as we walked into a night that would undoubtedly be our biggest "pay-day" since we moved to Brighthaven. She'd spoken so quietly that it was almost a whisper. But Blair and I had heard her. Loud and clear.

We were always alert on heists - with each other and our surroundings - the job couldn't be completed if we weren't.

All that filled the air was the sound of the deep, throbbing bass coming from the Livermore mansion, the low chatter of other teenagers on the sidewalk heading toward the party, and the persistent impact of our combat boots against the large cobblestone driveway.

Taking one last swig, I shoved my metallic canteen into the black duffel bag I was carrying. Bright string lights hung from the manicured bushes in the front courtyard, and illuminated the joyous scene that we were about to immerse ourselves in.

"Are you pulling out, already?" Blair halts abruptly, turning toward Brooklyn.

She didn't like it when we all weren't "one-hundred" on the plan. It made her doubt whether she could truly depend on either of us. And I didn't blame her.

All three of us had trust issues. And not because we were trained not to trust anyone, but because we learned it was easier if you didn't. There were fewer liabilities which meant there were also fewer handicaps.

"No, I'm just -" Brooklyn tried to explain, but Blair doesn't let her finish.

"Get your shit together, Hall! We've been planning this heist for a week now; you've had time to 'not be sure'." She air quotes her last few words for effect.

"Blair! Stop, okay?" I cut in deciding to come to Brooklyn's rescue, as I was required to do every so often.

Brooke was the timid, good-natured girl I'd always known, and I loved her for it. She was the standard with which I measured my moral standing when I was away from home. She wasn't perfect, but she set boundaries for Blair and me that wouldn't have been in place otherwise. Brooke reminded us that the way we made a living wasn't morally just or legal. And Blair despised her for it.

It was a lot easier to pretend you didn't have a conscience when she wasn't there standing in front of you. With her soft honey-brown eyes and convicting voice, Brooklyn embodied our stolen innocence.

"Brooklyn, are you in or not?" I asked smoothly.

"I don't know..."

"Well, shit then." Blair hissed, as she lit a cigarette.

She turned away from us, pacing along the width of the stone driveway, as if the whole night was ruined. Not on my watch.

The night was still young, and the duffel bag I was gripping was still empty. This meant two things. Chances still needed to be taken, and money still needed to be made.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I asked her a question we both knew the answer to, "Do you know how much we can make tonight, Brooke?"

"Two-hundred and fifty grand. Over and easy."

Silence falls between us for a moment, as we let that amount of money sink in. It was a quarter of a million dollars. Sure, we had more money sitting in each of our checking accounts at the moment; but we'd only ever conducted so many heists that promised this much cash in one night.

"But we're stealing."

"Are we? I like to think we're borrowing, and using the money for better-served purposes." I corrected her.

"Bullfuckingshit."

"Fine, Brooklyn. You want the truth?" I laughed humorlessly, as she nodded.

Everyone wants the truth until they realize they can't handle it. It's only when it's too harsh, or too unfair that we look back in hindsight and decide that perhaps we could've continued on being blissfully ignorant and uninformed.

"We do steal. We're like fucking parasites that take anything and everything in sight. We're manipulative bastards, and we take so much shit for granted." I paused, as a couple of guys walked past us on the sidewalk. One of them whistles.

"We're runaways, misfits, delinquents, whatever your choice of terminology."

"But it's either that or be wards of the state, and we both know how much that fucked Blair over." Blair spoke up then.

We knew her story - or at least the part of it that she wanted us to know. We had a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Not because we didn't care, but because each of us were way too fucked up in the head to trust anyone with any of the memories we had stored up there.

Stick to the money. That's what Pierre had told us. The less we knew the better.

"So are you going to make your living, or are you going to wait for your parent or guardian to sign a piece of paper and give you permission to fuck your life up anyway?" Blair bluntly stated, giving Brooklyn a supportive glare.

She had that effect on you sometimes. Blair. She was like that older friend or sister that might as well be the same age as you. We were sisters. The three of us. We took care of each other as if we were.

"Your decision." She completed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Tossing her cigarette onto the cobblestone, she heads towards the party. I followed after her.

And a couple of seconds later, Brooklyn joined us.

"What's the plan, again?"

"That's my girl." I grinned, throwing my arm over her and Blair's shoulders.

"Mingle, flirt, get in, and get out." Blair instructed when we entered the house.

Teenagers filled the hallway and probably several other rooms on this floor. Red cups adorned just about every person's hand, as the furniture vibrated from the bass of the song that was pulsing out from the speakers.

It was late. Noise complaints would be coming in any minute. Noise complaints meant cops and sirens. Two things we did our best to avoid. To beat the frenzy of teenagers we'd have to speed up a couple of standard procedures.

No upstairs scope out. No false alarm. No thorough mingling. Masks on inside the mansion, masks off outside the mansion. But the number one rule for me would be: Don't get spotted.

Beeps sound on each of our watches as we set the timer for ten minutes. We only need six minutes. The extra four were for any unforeseen circumstances that might arise at any of our "bases."

"Doesn't sound like much of a plan." Brooke dead-panned.

Blair shrugged. "Yeah well."

Nodding toward Blair and Brooklyn, I reminded them of the plan, "I'll go upstairs and get the cash. You two stay downstairs and be ready to leave when I say leave."

"Got it." Blair calls over her shoulder.

"Finders keepers!" Brooklyn reminded me, as she submerged herself into the rowdy party scene.

Smiling widely, I head up the stairs.

"Don't I know it."

♙

author's note:

If you read my note after Chapter 3 then you know I came back and changed a few minor details, added in a bit more dialogue and description, and essentially revamped Finders Keepers. A much needed revamping lol!

It wasn't where I wanted it to be, but now I feel that is.

Disclaimer: My opinion on my story and the character development might continue to change as I grow as a writer, haha. Don't hate me. ♡♡

I know no one really reads author notes anymore, so if you've made it this far ... you might as well drop a comment below and tell me what you thought about the extended summary!

° ∞ matilda ∞ °