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A girl dreams of an unclothed life on the Mississippi.

She makes a mental note to purchase a chandelier when she settles down, something ostentatious like the one in the hotel, something that comes from a far away place and has to be installed by a team of men.

"You know what I really hate about this fucker Montana?" Mandrake says once they are in the car, Mira behind the wheel.

"What?" Mint asks.

"I hate that he's ruining the point of doing any of this suicidal shit in the first place."

"Tell me about it," Mira says. She stares into her phone, pulls up the navigation.

"We are sitting on millions and what are we doing? Running from a ruthless hood with the IQ of a stack of phone books," Mandrake says.

"Remember how fast you cracked that safe, Mira?" Mint asks suddenly.

"That, I will never forget," she says.

"In under a minute. A sea of green at our fingertips. It was then that I knew we were meant to be. It was too fantastic to ignore. The electricity in the air, everyone okay, no mess ups, all the customers on the floor, no heroes, a geriatric guard."

Mira laughs, the memory sharp in her mind. "Still can't believe everything went haywire the moment I left."

"Immediately, after you left," Mandrake says as Mira pulls onto the highway. "Me and Montana are joking and laughing, we are stuffing the money in the bags, not an alarm to be heard, not a fucking siren," Mandrake continues, "then some guy has a coughing fit that spooks Montana and he pistol whips the guy--and this act--to this day I feel like it set off some karmic turn of events because all hell breaks loose, we hear sirens and then Montana grabs the money and is out of there like lightening."

"All too ready to leave me hanging, I mean I know we agreed I'd be the one to take the fall but shit, at least Mandrake made a show of not wanting to leave me there."

"It wasn't a show, brother!" Mandrake says. "But you did agree to it," Mandrake says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Cut to Mint spending three years in jail, becoming more and more bitter as time passes and creating drama to revisit once his feet hit free soil," Mandrake says.

Mint laughs and a comfortable silence falls over the car. It is broken by Mira's lighter and the hiss of the flame against her cigarette, and then by her words. "This is all my fault, you know," she says. She doesn't know how far she plans to go when she starts talking, but as always, without fail, she will make sure she leads with the most important subject. The rest will fall into place behind it. "Montana spent every cent we stole that day."

"What?" Mandrake breathes.

"He took everything, he told me that you guys left him high and dry on the job, and that the money was his because of it. I didn't believe him for a second. If nothing else is true in this world, it is a fucking fact that Montana Jones is never to be trusted. I didn't believe him but there was nothing I could do."

"You could have run, you can mastermind heists that elude the very musings of a cop's mind but you can't figure out how to extricate yourself from someone as simple as Montana Jones?" Mint asks.

"Truly laughable," Mandrake says.

"Give me a fucking break. Neither of you know the whole story."

"We don't, but why don't you tell us? You always have it all figured out, don't you?"

"Mint, pull back a little, for the moment we should all be on the same side," Mandrake says. "But he is right. Lay it out for us."

"First, let's start at the end," she says.

"Let's," Mandrake says. "We pick the guns up from Lola Montgomery out in the sticks of Vegas."

"We head straight to Aspen Grove Casino and Hotel in Reno, Nevada."

"We hold up the counting room. Small place, you staked out security, logged the routines," Mint says. He removes a small green psalm book from his pocket and begins to read it.

"Logged and staked," Mira says. She turns down the space-age laser rhythms of the ubiquitous pop song giving background to their plan, throws her cigarette butt out into the passing scenery.

Aspen Grove is the type of place that is slow through the wee

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