The peach cobbler was sweet, much like his hasty retreat from the scene of the robbery. He had to get rid of the jewels faster than he’d devoured the pie. He’d made sure to steal only one ring, one necklace, and one set of diamond earrings so he could make it look like he was pawning some inheirited bling instead of looking like he’d knocked off the royal palace.

He thought he’d done well, hadn’t sweat too much, as he left the pawn shop with a wad of cash. The crappiest motel in town rented rooms for 30 bucks a night. He glanced up. A scowling teen built like a quarterback sauntered up behind him with motive.

“You got gumption kid. I saw you in 1206 Hampton.” He didn’t make eye contact, just stared down at this bully’s scuffed Nike’s. “I’ve got a gig. I’m short-handed and like your style. You could get three times that much if you do it right.”

He never wanted to mess with the gang. He’d known other state wards who got pinched just for standing on the wrong curb.

But he needed the money.