I couldn’t believe I was actually going through with the whole thing either. That had to count for something.
It was hot as fuck up at Joshua Tree and two in the afternoon was probably the worst time to go for a hike, but something about the surroundings soothed me. The sky was impossibly blue, like paint pigment. I’d seen a similar color inked on Camden’s arm. The boulders were smooth and round, like Camden’s shoulders. The scrubby cacti and sagebrush reminded me of the stubble on his chin. And the imposing Joshua trees, the way they rose up out of the earth…well anyway. Suffice it to say, even though I came here to get some fresh air and clear my mind, my thoughts kept coming back to Camden.
Get through tonight and then you’re gone, I told myself, kicking away a small tumbleweed. I had to keep telling myself that or I’d begin to lose my nerve. This was the whole problem with the “knowing your mark” thing. It made things easier and harder at the same time.
Even though I kept thinking back to our love-making, to the beautiful things he said to me, to the way he knew the person I had been and didn’t seem to care, it was fruitless to even humor the idea of making something out of us. Camden might have known me as a scared little turncoat in high school, but he didn’t know me as a criminal. He didn’t know the things I’d done and he could never know. What was I supposed to do then? Shack up with him and live a lie? I had done that with Javier and barely got out of that alive.
It was too hard living a lie. I didn’t think I could share it with someone too.
In the sweet shade of a boulder, I parked my ass on a rock and brought out my notepad and pen. I needed to think hard and think smart. I didn’t want to pack up my car to leave tonight since my original plan had me hanging around town for a few more days. After all, it would look terribly suspicious if I happened to leave town the same time as the robbery. But, I had to take precautions and that meant hightailing my ass out of town if it came down to it.
I wanted to get in the house in the middle of the night. I knew Camden was tired from our early rise that morning and from the wine hangover we were both feeling. He’d probably be sleeping soundly by two in the morning, so I chose four as the best option. Only sordid things happened at four a.m.
I’d go in through the front door. Picking that lock would be easy. Then I’d get into the office and hit up the safe. I had come up with several number combinations that I thought were a good start. If they didn’t work, then I could either choose to bail or test my luck and try safecracking. Listening for those contact points took an awful lot of time, however, and time was something that wasn’t on my side.
But I’d listened to Camden a lot last night, even when I was drunk. My brain was always reeling stuff in. After trying 007, 311, 911, 411, 187, and 666 (some of the more easily remembered three-number codes), I’d try his birthday (6/11), his son’s birthday (10/03), the area code (760), or the last three digits of his license plate (299). Then I’d work through combinations of his lucky number (5) and his phone digits. Yes, I found out an awful lot of trivial information about Camden during our day of fun. Luckily he was the type to just talk and let me ask the questions.
Which, in retrospect, I did find a little weird. He hadn’t seen me since high school and aside from asking how Uncle Jim was doing, what song was tattooed on my arm, and that whole “I’ve been doing odd jobs” excuse, he hadn’t asked me anything about myself. Wasn’t I a bit of a mystery to him? Wasn’t he at all interested in what I’d been up to in the last eight or nine years or so?
Perhaps he was just being polite. He knew how defensive I could get over the smallest things. I decided to forget about that and be thankful that he had left his questioning out of it. As I said earlier, I’d have no problems lying to him—but it didn’t mean I liked doing it.
I had filled up the notepad with a rough map of his house and potential hazards when my phone beeped, breaking through the sound of ground doves and cicadas.
I fished it out of my pocket. It was a text from Camden. Oh boy.
Hey, was wondering if you wanted to catch a show with me tonight in San Bernardino. I know it’s kind of far but this band is really good. I think you’d like them. It starts at 10PM.
I pursed my lips, somewhat delighted at this chain of events, and texted him back.
Aw, sorry! I can’t, I’ve decided to go catch up with my friend in San Diego. Just about to leave now. It’ll just be for the night though, so maybe we can catch up for drinks tomorrow night? Have a great time at the show!
I pressed send and waited. The air seemed to get hotter by the second and soon my jeans felt like a sauna prison for my legs.
It wasn’t long before he replied back.