Job's Apartment
The elevator stopped on Job's floor, and as it opened, Ethan, Job, and Sartana entered with the suitcases full of money while Jonny (Job's boyfriend) waited for them in the living room.
—Ah, finally! —Job exclaimed, dropping his jacket over the back of the couch—. I can finally relax.
Ethan set the suitcases aside on the coffee table, crossing his arms with a satisfied smile.
Sartana smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter while Jonny opened a bottle of champagne. They had spent the past two hours driving around the city to make sure no one had followed them to Job's apartment; caution was well worth it.
She couldn't believe there was so much money in front of her; it was almost surreal. She thought she knew Ethan, but now she didn't know what to think. Still, she had no choice but to go along with it. She never asked where the diamonds came from, and honestly, she didn't care. Ethan had saved her life and taken care of her; whatever happened, he was on her side.
—This calls for a toast —Jonny said, pouring glasses and letting out a satisfied sigh.
Ethan took a glass, looking at his friends.
—To Skinny and stupid greed. —he said, raising his glass.
—To Skinny —Job added with a smile, clinking his glass against Ethan's.
Sartana joined, raising her glass with an amused look, while Jonny refilled the cups.
Ethan was reclining on one of Job's sofas, holding a glass of whiskey with ice. The silence in the room broke when Sartana settled on his lap, looking at him curiously.
—So, small-town cop? —she asked, letting her eyes meet his—
Ethan smiled, spinning the glass between his fingers.
—Well, I never said I was a good cop. —he said calmly—
Sartana raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and seriousness on her face.
—That name… Skinny —she said—. I heard it on the news recently. An armed squad in Tijuana raided a club, stole the safe, and killed everyone in their way. Don't tell me that was you…
—You're overthinking it —Ethan said, glancing at Job, who was counting the money.
He swore he had never seen Job smile so much at once; I guess his dry spell was over.
—I've divided everything already. With the 200k from Smurf's advance, the million in cash, and the remaining 2.8 million, we've accumulated a considerable fortune. Everything is separated and ready for each person.
Ethan nodded, holding his glass of whiskey.
—This is for you, you earned it, dear —Job said, setting a small canvas suitcase on the floor. It was Sartana's share for helping with the exchange, about two hundred thousand dollars.
Sartana opened the suitcase with a satisfied smile and saw a yellow envelope inside.
—Your new identity documents are also included. Everything is in this envelope; from today on, you're Jessica Alba, born in Pomona, California, with no family.
She opened it carefully and found everything: passport, ID, social security number, licenses—everything she needed to start over from scratch.
—That leaves 1.9 million dollars for you and me —exclaimed Job, still smiling. He had never had a job that paid off so well, not even during the best times stealing jewels with John (Hood).
Job dropped two large black travel bags on the floor.
—Not bad for a work trip, huh? —Ethan said from the sofa, calmly.
—Bastard, not all of us have shares in a casino —Job exclaimed, offended, handing Jonny his part to keep in his room—. And tell me, what will you do now, Ethan? Going back to that manure-smelling town?
—Banshee, yes —Ethan replied—. Sartana will stay with me for a while while she decides what to do next. As for me… I want to go home.
—You'll need help with your share —Job asked, referring to laundering the money.
—No —Ethan said, finishing his drink—. It'll be easier if I run it through the casino; Nola will help with that part.
—And you? —Job inquired, looking at Sartana with curiosity.
—Well, I have enough to reopen my salon, so I'll start there.
Months earlier, Rabbit had blown her salon to pieces; now she finally had enough capital to get it running again.
Rooftop, Job's Building
The breeze on the terrace hit Ethan's face as he watched the city lights flicker on. Below, the urban pulse throbbed in neon streaks and car horns; beyond, the river caught the last reflections of the sunset. Job opened the door behind him, lit a cigarette calmly, and leaned against the railing next to him, exhaling a slow cloud into the sky.
—So, what are you going to do now? —Job asked without looking at him—. Going back to the blue?
Ethan lit his own and let the smoke drift into the wind.
—I don't know yet. Robert Phillips offered me a spot in the FBI. Could be interesting.
Job smirked, but there was respect in the gesture.
—Wouldn't be a bad idea to have a friend on the right side of the law for once.
Ethan chuckled softly.
—I'm thinking about it.
Job sighed and gazed at the lights.
—If it matters, you could make a difference. Not everything is black or white; you know that better than anyone. Sometimes the world is gray, and someone has to do the right thing for the right reasons.
Those words hit Ethan with a mix of responsibility and exhaustion. Since he had arrived in this world, he hadn't planned much for the future: survive, adapt, keep the pulse. Banshee had taught him to move with his eyes open; now, for the first time in a long while, he could choose. He had the money, he could do whatever he wanted, but the undeniable truth was he enjoyed being a cop.
—I'll think about it —he finally replied—. For now, I just want to go home.
Job gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder.
—If you get bored, come to New York. Someone with your talent is appreciated here. And we could have more fun.
—I promise —Ethan said—. And, well… honestly, I have two favors to ask.
Job fixed him with a playful look.
—Legal or illegal?
—Legal… for now —Ethan replied with a half-smile—. I want to buy some cryptocurrency.
Job raised an eyebrow.
—That's easy. You can do it from your phone in five minutes.
—It's not that simple —Ethan countered—. I don't think keeping my money in the bank forever is a good idea; you've always told me to diversify. And I'm worried the IRS might come knocking… I want to be discreet.
—What the hell are you talking about? —Job huffed—. How much are we talking?
Ethan dropped the bomb in one go.
—I want you to help me buy 2.8 million bitcoins on the market.
Job's cigarette froze between his fingers. For a moment, he didn't exhale. Then he let out a sharp, stomach-deep laugh.
—Are you crazy? Did you hit your head last night when you hooked up with that waitress? —he said, regaining his humor—. Two point eight million dollars in bitcoins?
Ethan didn't flinch. He knew exactly how Job would react. He came from a different world, one ahead of this one in many ways: he had seen the seeds of Bitcoin grow and knew it would explode. He preferred to ride the wave before the tide swept away the opportunity.
—I'm serious —he insisted—. I need your help. You're the best for this.
Job cleared his throat, pretending to be offended.
—Bastard, appealing to my ego isn't going to get you anything for free. You'll have to pay like everyone else. Also, I'll need at least a hundred thousand to set up the infrastructure: servers, secure wallets in half a dozen countries, nodes, stuff you can't even pronounce. Are you sure about what you're asking for?
Ethan nodded firmly.
—More than ever. Money's not the problem.
Job rubbed his bald head and licked his lips thoughtfully.
—If I can do it, I'll do it —he said at last—. But give me time. And tell me where the funds are coming from.
Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Job with a serious expression.
—Use the account I opened when I moved the funds from Marie's diamond. I haven't touched that money.
Job read it, frowned, then looked at him like he didn't know whether to hug him or kick him. He hadn't expected Ethan to hand over one of his most valuable assets. The trust hit him in a strange way.
—I didn't know you trusted me that much —he muttered, surprised.
—You always have my back; in every job I give you my life —Ethan said firmly—. If there's anyone I can trust with this, it's you. And if you steal from me… I'll find you and make you regret every bad joke you've ever made at my expense.
Job laughed, feigning indignation.
—Shut up, bastard. You're going to make me cry. Well, since you insist, I'll put in some too. Since I've known you, it seems luck follows you; maybe some will rub off on me.
—You won't regret it —Ethan said with conviction.
Job returned to his cigarette, taking a long drag.
—Alright. I'll make it work. But I warn you: this isn't a game. And tell me now, what's the other favor?
Ethan leaned on the railing, looking over the city. His fingers tapped nervously. Then he spoke about the plan to help some girls in trouble.
The diner bell above Han's door jingled in its characteristic way.
Max and Caroline were behind the counter; Caroline was checking the cash register while Max poured herself a coffee as a trucker sat at the bar.
Ethan entered first, moving with his usual relaxed gait, wearing a rolled-up dark blue shirt, jeans, and leather boots. Behind him, Job burst in like a walking eccentric: tight black vinyl pants, a fuchsia bomber jacket with gold trim, round sunglasses, and a necklace with a sparkling pendant hanging to his chest.
The contrast between them was so extreme that Max immediately let out a laugh.
—Well, well… —Max said, leaning over the counter—. What do we have here? The tough cop and his personal designer?
Job raised his eyebrows above his glasses.
—Darling, not personal designer—visual genius with interdimensional style sense. And you must be Max, the one whose sarcastic comments make up for the lack of tips, right?
Max snorted with amusement while Caroline looked him up and down.
—Wow, you're definitely not from around here. What… tribe is that jacket from?
—The tribe of those who know how to dress, sweetheart. —Job sat elegantly at a table by the window and crossed his legs—. Although I have to admit, this place has a shabby-retro charm, very… artsy.
Ethan smiled and leaned on the counter.
—Relax, Job.
Max set a coffee in front of him without asking.
—Well, Captain Pancakes, what brings you here? Didn't you have enough of Max?
Caroline nudged her with her elbow, embarrassed.
—Max!
—I didn't, but I'm here for another reason. We're here on business.
Job raised his cup, eyeing the liquid suspiciously.
—Is this coffee or recycled oil?
—Depends on the day —Max replied—. Today's Tuesday, so it could be both.
Caroline, more curious, asked:
—Business?
—Yes, look, I want to introduce you to my friend Job. —Ethan said— Job, these are my friends Max and Caroline. Actually, that's why I came to talk to you. Job and I were talking last night about your cupcake business.
Caroline looked up from her papers, intrigued.
—Our business?
—Exactly —Job said, taking a seat like it was an executive meeting—. Ethan told me about your idea, and he says you're two passionate, talented girls, the product is good… and you just need a small investment to scale.
Max let out a sarcastic laugh.
—And what do you know about cupcakes, Liberace?
—Darling, I don't need to know about cupcakes to know about money. And believe me, I know plenty.
Ethan intervened calmly.
—Job has experience investing in small businesses. He's made a fortune in tech and digital art… and well, after tasting your cupcakes, he decided to bet on you.
It was a slightly elaborate lie, but Ethan knew Max would never accept his money—she was too proud. But if she thought it was someone else's investment, she might consider it.
Caroline looked at him, jaw dropped.
—Are you serious?
—Completely. —Ethan held her gaze with that calm confidence of his—. Job wants to invest three hundred thousand dollars so you can rent your own place, buy the necessary equipment, and open your business.
Max blinked in disbelief, staring at Job.
—Three. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. For cupcakes?
—Exactly. —Job leaned back, enjoying the moment—.
Caroline put down the papers, excited.
—That's amazing! With that money, we could pay off all our debts and start Max's Homemade Cupcake business… Max, we could actually do it!
Max looked at her, trying to stay composed, though something inside her trembled.
—Yeah, sure… but why you, exactly? No one invests that much for no reason. What do you expect in return, unlimited body glow?
Job smiled, lowering his voice slightly.
—Let's call it intuition. Also, Ethan was very persuasive about you, said that if anyone deserved this opportunity, it was you.
—No catch —Ethan added firmly—. Job just wants to be a silent partner. He won't interfere with your work or decisions. He'll just provide the capital.
Caroline was radiant.
—This is a dream come true! You don't know how much this means to us.
Job gave her a genuine smile, though behind his glasses he shared a conspiratorial glance with Ethan.
—Then, deal. But I want to try one of those Red Velvet cupcakes again before signing any papers.
—Deal —Max said, handing him a cupcake with a playful smile—. But if you get poisoned afterward, don't sue me.
—Darling, if I can survive this place's coffee, I can survive anything.
Laughter filled the diner. Ethan leaned on the counter, glancing at Max from the corner of his eye. She noticed the look, and for a moment, her smile softened.
When Caroline went for the documents, she nudged Ethan lightly and whispered:
—You're a bad liar, did you know that?
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
—I don't know what you're talking about.
Caroline set the folder on the counter and looked at him sharply.
—Please, Ethan, you have the subtlety of a cow in heels.
Ethan straightened a bit, not losing his calm.
—I got you —she said, raising her hands—. And now?
—Nothing, I know why you did it. Max is the most stubborn person and doesn't believe in good intentions —she said, lowering her voice—. I'll keep your little secret.
He watched her for a moment.
—Don't thank me yet. —She smiled slyly— I'll call you every time we need money, so keep that checkbook ready.
Ethan let out a laugh.
After a couple of hours spent ironing out the details of the partnership, Caroline had a clear business plan, and Job didn't raise many objections since the money was Ethan's, so he agreed to everything.
—Alright, ladies —he said in his theatrical tone—. Tomorrow we'll start checking out locations in Manhattan. If all goes well, in two weeks you'll be making a fortune, not just dough.
Caroline looked at him, excited.
—That sounds amazing! I can't believe this is happening.
Max crossed her arms, barely smiling.
—Me neither, it's almost too good to be true.
Job let out a laugh.
Ethan stood as well, giving Job a friendly pat on the shoulder.
—Thanks for everything, Job, see you later.
Job raised his hands theatrically, stepping back.
—And so ends another successful chapter in my career as a visionary investor. Farewell, plebeians.
The sound of the door closing left a quiet moment between Ethan and Max. She remained leaning on the counter, rolling her coffee cup between her hands.
—Your friend is… kind of strange, and I mean that in the sense that we live in Brooklyn, here strange is normal —Max said, raising an eyebrow—. I don't know whether I want to hug him or kill him.
Ethan laughed softly.
—You don't have to worry, he's eccentric, but reliable. And if he bothers you, I can kick his ass anytime.
—That's a promise. —Ethan ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture uncommon for him, and sat across from Max—. Max… there's something I need to tell you.
Caroline, reading the mood, stood up, saying she needed to check her numbers in the kitchen, leaving them alone.
Max raised an eyebrow, half-smiling.
—Let me guess, you're married? I knew it was too good to be true.
He let out a short laugh before interrupting her.
—No, none of that. I just… need to go home for a few days. To Banshee. There are things I need to fix there.
Max lowered her gaze to her cup, trying to sound indifferent.
—Of course, I didn't expect you to sleep in my bed every night or anything like that. When are you leaving? —she asked, bringing the cup to her lips.
—Tomorrow —he answered calmly.
She raised her eyebrows.
—Wow, that was fast. Not even a day to dramatize it.
—You won't miss me, you'll be too busy with your bakery. You probably won't even notice I'm gone.
Max looked over the rim of her cup.
—Don't be so sure.
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
—But tonight… I'm all yours. I can wait until your shift is over.
Max's smile widened just a bit, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
—So, coffee and a cupcake? Or do you prefer to keep staring like I'm the menu?
The afternoon faded with the diner's bustle, the clinking of cups, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Max finished her shift while Ethan waited at their usual table.
When she stepped away from the counter, she removed her apron and hung it on the hook by the door.
—You didn't fall asleep waiting for me, that's already a point in your favor —she said, approaching with a tired but genuine smile.
They left the diner and walked along the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder, with no set destination. The cool Brooklyn air tousled their hair, and Max shrugged.
—Nothing like the night wind to remind you that you should have brought a jacket —she murmured.
—I could lend you mine —Ethan said, smiling.
—And ruin your bad-boy look? No thanks —she replied, amused.
Still, Ethan leaned in and draped his jacket over her shoulders. Max adjusted it slightly and suddenly caught a hint of his cologne.
—Wow… you smell like you came from a luxury boutique, not a half-shabby diner —she remarked, raising an eyebrow and smiling.
Ethan shrugged.
Max sniffed again, amused.
—Well, I'm not going to lie, I like it.
They walked a couple of blocks until they found a small food stand lit by a half-broken sign. They ordered a couple of pastrami sandwiches and sat on swings in the park across the street, rocking gently.
—So, you're leaving tomorrow —she murmured, breaking the silence.
—Yeah —Ethan said, lowering his gaze for a moment—. But I'll be back before you miss me too much.
There was a brief silence.
—Thanks for what you did, you didn't have to help me and Caroline.
—It was nothing, I just asked a favor, and your cupcakes did the rest.
Max turned to him, finding that mix of tenderness and danger that always seemed to surround him.
—Don't ruin my tough-girl reputation by saying sweet things —she whispered, though her voice trembled slightly.
Ethan smiled faintly. Then, with a slow gesture, he brushed her cheek, down to her chin. She didn't pull away. The kiss came without rush; when they parted, Max rested her forehead on his chest, listening to Ethan's heartbeat.
Back at the apartment, Max dropped her things by the entrance while Ethan sat on the sofa.
—I guess this will be the last quiet moment before you leave tomorrow —Max said, trying to sound serious but unable to hide her smile.
—Tomorrow? —Ethan repeated, raising an eyebrow—. There's still tonight, I'm not leaving until you beg me to go.
Max collapsed beside Ethan on the sofa.
—Oh yeah? —Max said, raising an eyebrow.
The first kiss came unannounced, awkward at first, but soon turned intense.
The world shrank to touch, the sound of their breaths, the shared rapid heartbeat.
—I need a shower… —he murmured, rising slowly.—You can wait for me in my room.
Ethan watched her, still seated. —Only if you wear your waitress outfit… —he said in a low voice—
Max stopped at the doorway, turning her head slightly, smiling with that playful spark.
—Ah… Captain Pancakes, I didn't know you had a waitress fetish —Max joked, with a mischievous smile and sparkling eyes—. I'll take it as a compliment.