Read Online Matala by Craig Holden - Free Book Online Page A

“But there’s a lot of cash here, and now it’s mine. See how it works? I don’t owe him anything because he doesn’t know I took it.”
    â€œChrist. You are mad.”
    â€œAre you scared?”
    â€œ You should be.” But I knew who was the frightened one. Justine had on a face I’d never seen. Darcy pulled the wallet back off the table. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do to you?”
    â€œNothing if I give it back to him and tell him you stole it—minus, of course, what you took from me. But he’ll understand that. It’s your rear he’ll take it out on, not mine.”
    Justine stuck a finger into the empty cigarette pack, fished around, and said, “Fuck, I need a smoke.”
    â€œOn the other hand, we can clean the cash out and leave the wallet someplace where he won’t suspect it was us.”
    â€œWe?” Justine said.
    â€œThere’s more in there than he was going to give you—maybe a couple of thousand dollars’ worth.”
    â€œWhat game are you playing?”
    â€œGame?” said Darcy. “You mean what do I do besides travel around looking at ancient merde .” Darcy pulled her big purse onto her lap, dug into it, and removed another pack of cigarettes, Marlboro Reds.
    â€œWhere do you get all these?” said Justine.
    â€œAround,” she said. Then she took out something else and laid it on the table. It was a wristwatch, a Clerc just like the one I’d stolen from the German and then lost.
    I said, “Shit.”
    â€œIs it the same one?” asked Justine.
    I picked it up, inspected it, slipped it on my wrist, and said, “Yeah.” Then I took it off and set it down.
    Darcy reached into her bag again and placed a small Bible covered in red leather beside the watch. It was Justine’s. I’d seen her reading from it now and then but had never asked her about it.
    â€œYou complete and utter cunt,” Justine said. “What could you possibly want with that?”
    â€œNothing,” Darcy said. “I don’t want any of this caca .” She then produced, in succession, a gold and silver monogrammed money clip, an ivory hair comb, a silver class ring set with a huge faceted blue stone, two more packs of cigarettes, three Zippo lighters, a journal embossed in gold with the word Private, a Mont Blanc fountain pen, a silver egg cup, half a dozen sterling dinner utensils, a magnifying glass, a plane ticket, a transistor radio, and, most improbably, an onyx-handled stainless steel folding knife, the blade of which must have been at least four inches long.
    She said, “I have a problem. This…disease.”
    â€œDisease?” I said.
    â€œI can’t help it. I’ve been doing it since I was like ten. Shoplifting, picking pockets, even the occasional burglary, believe it or not. Usually those were just neighbors’ houses. For a while all I stole was lingerie. I’ve been to merde loads of the best shrinks in Cleveland, Columbus, Pittsburgh, and even New York, therapists, twelve-step groups. No one could ever get me to stop. I even went to jail once. Then they put me in a mental ward for a while, but I was no crazier than anyone who worked there, and they knew it. When their stethoscopes kept disappearing, they kicked me out.”
    â€œOh, for Christ’s sake,” Justine said and rubbed her eyes. Then she pointed at the smokes and said, “May I?”
    â€œThey’re yours,” Darcy said. “The lighters, too.” Then, to Will, “Sorry about the watch.”
    â€œIt’s fine,” I told her. “Can I have it back?”
    â€œWell, it’s yours, isn’t it?”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œIt is now. My gift to you.”
    â€œThank you.”
    We then sat, the three of us, each stunned by this sudden sharing, this revelation, this laying of cards on the table.
    â€œWell,” Justine said at