Run Away Baby

nged usage, it can be permanent.”

“You don’t say. Shit. I knew those pills were too good to be true.”

Chapter 26

Abby had been concerned that Randall would want to come to the flea market with her. That fear was quickly snuffed out; both the vendors and customers at the flea market were nothing but idiots and criminals, he informed her. Especially the vendors. He said if anyone would have hired them, they wouldn’t be selling old shit to make a living. She could go there while he was at work, but he wasn’t going to be involved in her little cottage project.

Then she feared he would wonder how she was getting furniture loaded up into her SUV. Actually, though, he never asked. Once or twice she mentioned how friendly and helpful the sellers there were, but he wasn’t paying attention anyway, so she quit mentioning it.

Then she became worried that he would wonder how the furniture was getting inside the cottage, but Charlie solved that problem by purchasing some white coveralls and borrowing his cousin’s white utility van on the rare occasion when Abby couldn’t get her purchases inside the house on her own. This way, if anyone was watching, it looked like she had called a mover to help her. If she got inside the van and gave the furniture a little push, Charlie was shockingly strong at getting whatever bulky thing was in there down to the ground.

There weren’t any neighbors nearby, since the cottage was on a dead-end road by a small lake, but in case a nosy neighbor was out for a walk, Abby wanted to be extra careful. She would tell Randall she’d paid the ‘moving guy’ in cash if he asked, but he never did.

He had inexplicably become so content with his tracking systems and frequent sex, and distracted by some kind of work project that promised an eighty thousand dollar bonus, that he had little concern over any this.

The plan was working perfectly. The cute little yellow cottage with the white picket fence had been outfitted with flea market finds, most of them in the $20-80 range. By the time they’d owned it for a month, it was furnished and Abby had stowed away almost $40,000. Randall had no idea how cheaply old furniture could actually be purchased, and didn’t blink at the piles of forged receipts, created from a variety of different store-bought receipt tablets, or written on random scraps of paper, all for sales of ridiculously huge amounts.

Vintage table and chairs $250 Charlie had scrawled in slanting handwriting. Stop back at my booth next time! More vintage items arriving soon, he’d then added, topping off his handiwork with a smiley face.

When Abby got home she found a black Sharpie like Charlie had used in creating this receipt and she carefully added another zero, turning it onto $2500. In reality, the table and chairs had come from a garage sale right down the street from Charlie’s apartment for $80.

Unique curio cabinet, $850; porcelain dog figurines 6 x $25 each. Total=$1000 Enjoy your treasures! said a differently forged receipt for a pile of stuff Charlie had found in the dumpster corral a few blocks from where he lived.

“Is this too outlandish?” he’d asked. “A thousand bucks for some chipped up dogs and a cabinet to hold them?”

“No. I think he’ll fall for it. He’s been in a really good mood lately.”

“That’s good for you. Right?”

“I guess. Nice job on this one,” Abby’d said, turning the subject back to the curio cabinet receipt. “It looks like genuine girl handwriting.”

“Yeah it does. What can I say? I have skills. Hey, how are you doing saving money? You got a lot stockpiled?”

“I’m getting there,” said Abby.

“How much have you got?”

“I’m not sure. Quite a bit.”

“Like, a thousand dollars? Two thousand?”

“Somewhere in there.”

“Where are you hiding it? No place he could find it, right?”

“No, I’m being careful.”

“Maybe I should hold on to it for you.”

“Um. Maybe. I’ll bring it next time we get together.”

“Good idea,” said Charlie.

Her secret money stash was hiding in empty shampoo bottles beneath her bathroom vanity. The morning of her next encounter with Charlie she carefully removed twelve one hundred dollar bills from one of the bottles. She drove herself to the flea market and wandered about, looking for him. She was dressed in her oldest clothes and had no concerns about running into anyone important there, but she still didn’t want to be seen with him. When she caught sight of him, she passed by him and whispered, “Charlie, come over this way.”

“Did you find something good?” he asked.

“No, I need you to do me a favor.”