The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [15]
“She’s not second-class.”
“She is, Ollie. And so are we,” Charlie insists. “Now I’m sorry if that ruins your priceless self-image, but it’s time to find a way to get her out. Everyone deserves a fresh start—especially mom.”
As the words leave Charlie’s lips, I feel them tear at my belly. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Taking care of mom has always been top priority. For both of us. Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to follow him over the cliff. “I don’t need to be a thief.”
“Who said anything about thieves?” Charlie challenges. “Thieves steal from people. This money doesn’t belong to anyone. Duckworth’s dead—you tried to contact his family—he’s got no one. All we’d be taking is some cash that would never be missed. And even if something goes wrong, we can just blame it on whoever faxed us that letter. I mean, it’s not like he’s in any position to tell on us.”
“Oh, okay, Lenin, so when we’re done redistributing the wealth, we’ll just take this show on the road and go on the run for the rest of our lives. That’s clearly the best way to help mom—just abandon her and—”
“We don’t have to abandon anyone,” he insists. “We’ll do exactly what this guy’s doing—transfer the money out, and then we don’t touch it until we know it’s safe. After seven years, the FBI closes the investigation.”
“Says who?”
“I read this article in the Village Voice—”
“The Village Voice?”
“No screwing around—all it takes is seven years—then we’re just another unsolved file. Case closed.”
“And then what do we do? Retire on the beach, open a bar, and write sappy little songs for the rest of our lives?”
“It’s a lot better than wasting another four years kissing corporate ass and going nowhere.”
I hop off the bed and he knows he’s overstepped the boundaries. “You know business school is the best way out, and you know I can’t go there directly after college,” I insist, shoving a finger in his face. “You have to work a couple years first.”
“Fine. A couple years—that’s two. You’re finishing four.”
Taking a breath, I try not to lose it. “Charlie, I’m applying to the top schools in the country. Harvard, Penn, Chicago, Columbia. That’s where I want to go—anything else is second best and doesn’t help anyone, including mom.”
“And who decided that, you or Lapidus?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How many opportunities did you give up because Lapidus put his grand plan about B-school in your head? How many companies have you refused offers from? You know it as well as I do—you should’ve left the bank years ago. Instead, it’s been back-to-back B-school rejection letters. And you think this year’s gonna be any different? Broaden your horizons a little. I mean, it’s just like dating Beth—sure, you make a nice picture, but that’s all it is—a nice picture, Oliver—a Sears portrait of how you think things should be. You’re one of the most brilliant, dynamic people I know. Stop being so scared of living.”
“Then stop judging me!” I explode.
“I’m not judging you…”
“No, you’re just asking me to steal three million dollars—that’ll solve all my problems!”
“I’m not saying it’s the answer to every prayer, but it’s the only way we’re ever gonna dig out of this.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong!” I shout. “You may be thrilled nursing paper cuts in the file room, but I’ve got my eyes on something bigger. Trust me on this one, Charlie—once I’m done with business school, mom’s never gonna see another bill again. You can tease and joke all you want—sure, the path is safe, and it may be simple—but all that matters right now is that it works. And when the payoff hits, that three million