Mitch was trying to figure out how to get eight thousand dollars together without his father knowing.

He could call in a few favors, but even if they all cashed in, he’d only have about a thousand.
He could rob a store or gas station, but they probably didn’t have enough in the drawer. He’d have to rob several in one night. Leaving a trail like that would surely get him busted.

He ran through several scenarios, even pawning some of his things or cashing some of his savings bonds. But those were too obvious. His Dad would hear about the bonds from the banker and anything of worth would be missed.

If he did all of these things, he’d probably get enough, but it would take fabrication of stories, covering his tracks, beating up a few people and he didn’t have that kind of time.

Then he remembered a guy he met at the wild party. His name was Duane. He sported a leather trench coat and drove a Lexus. He hung out at this club called Indigo and parked in alleys. Duane knew how to make money. Mitch needed him.