Sam and Colby: The Penitentiary

30

"We're callin' you Black Beauty," Shag said, nodding up at my hair.

                "O-okay," I said. "So, uh, what exactly did you guys hear about me?" I asked. I needed to know what I was in for, but couldn't let them know I had no fucking clue.

                "Cute lil secretary like you. Workin' at a big ole law firm in the big apple. New York City. How long did that take you? Embezzling 17 million dollars ain't easy. Especially when it's your boss' money. He's a man, too. He really let you take care of the money? I ain't hatin' on you cause you're a woman, just somethin' I ain't expected. Seventy two years, woo. That's a rough one," said Shag. Seventeen million dollars—oh my god.

                "Hey, uh, what's the date?" I asked.

                "July 6th, 1977. How come?" asked Rock. I choked on the fucking air when he said that.

                "Woah there, Black Beauty. Calm yourself," Big said, giving me a couple claps on the back.

                "Sorry," I quickly said. "Just, uh... time gets away from me." Seventeen million dollars in 1977 was equal to...what, about 75 million dollars in today's money? Well, shit. In the future's money. "It... took me seven years. To steal all that money."

                "You can't be older than 25, sweetheart," said Blaze.

                "Started when I was young. Internship. Uncle worked at the firm," I quickly said.

                "Ah, good move. Started out doing it, no one suspected a thing when you became full time," said Big, nodding.

                "So... does everyone in here know who I am?" I asked.

                "Oh, yeah. Knows the name, at least. Red always steals a look at every month's list, we saw your name on there. Word got passed around that you were coming in. You're a damn big deal around here," said Big.

                "And... what about those guys I came in with? You know what they did?" I asked.

                "Dude with the yellow socks was the only class B felony in this round. Breaking and entering. Robbery. Got 46 years," said Red. Colby had the yellow socks.

"Yeah. Brock," I replied.

"And the guy with the white ones. Means drug-related felony. Two hundred grams of heroin, which is pretty impressive. He's got 58 years."

"That's Webber," I said.

"And the blue socks. Class C felony. Thirty three years. Went door to door raising money for The Red Cross. Kept every penny of the 15k he made," Red said. Shit, that was over 65k today.

"Do uh... do you happen to recognize the name Scherer?" I asked.

"Scherer? Yeah. Blue socks, class C. Three accounts of luxury motor vehicle theft. He's got 39 years," said Red.

"Dude's the brains of the intel on this place. Seems like you're the brains in general, though," said Big, pointing at Red and then me.

"Shit, you're right about that," I said. And he was. Just not for the reason he thought.

"They your friends?" asked Blaze.

"Yeah. I... I just know them," I said.

"You's datin' one of 'em," Shag said with a sly smile.

"Hm?" I asked, taken a little off guard by the comment. Was that bad? I'd decided the fact that I was a girl was completely overlooked and irrelevant.