True Greed
True Greed
Prologue
Do you every really think about money? People say they think about money all the time. Some say money can't buy happiness, but whoever "they" are, they're liars. Money creates happiness, because everything that makes you happy costs money. Here's my thought: money is kinda like God. It does everything, you can get everything with it, it can perform miracles, and it can be everywhere at once. Also, when people have money, they seem to be happier. This is actually how my girlfriend and I met. It was love at first sight. Or was it love at first greed? Either way, making the plan was easier than we thought. Getting the help... that was the hard part.
You'd be surprised how many ruthless, selfish, greedy bastards there are in this county. Then came the tedious task of trying to fine the "right" ones. Determined, smart, and totally disguise-able. Also, we needed different ages and sizes. We got the group, we made the plan. That's all there was to it. We all needed or wanted the money. We had connections. We had time.
First off, we had myself, but that's not important. Then came my very own girlfriend, Josephine. She liked to be called "Jo" because of some incident when she was a kid, but I don't really care or have the intention span to ask about it, so I let it go. Her long black hair gives her a fierce essence with a gentle aura about her. Her deep emerald eyes glowed and glimmered. She stood six and a half feet tall, much taller than everyone I know. I stood at the same height if I stood on my toes, and we loved each other like no other. She was just as greedy as I was, and I fell head over heels for her selfishness. Her gambling and statistics skills are off the charts and she can win any game she plays. She can seduce any man with a blink of an eye, making me feel so special that she was all mine. Sadly, I am not all hers, if you catch my drift. You can't tame the wind. Enough about me, lets move on to the main course.
It was almost too easy. They were like chess pieces and all I had to do was put them into place. We started out by picking the best and the brightest. Over time, we became a family, but before that happened, before the trust, there were only the greedy shells that we called our moral selves. It was almost scary how much we all wanted the money. We all had reasons and we all had dreams, but no one really expected what was about to happen. No one expected it to go as far as it did.
It was summer, and it seems as if everyone took time off. I got a permanent break from my work selling jewelry after I had a little run-in with some of the merchandise. I wanted it, and they didn't want me to have it. Jo had quit her job as a yoga instructor, because of the supposed illegal substances in her office. My gifts may have been illegal, but I knew that she would love it every time I gave it to her. We had to move, away from the people that already knew us, so we moved to a place with endless opportunities: Hollywood. Not only was it a prime spot for publication and getting seen by producers and directors, but also to be in the traffic of greedy people. Greedy people all have something in common. If you do not know what it is, then you must be stupid. Greed. Greed is in everyone, but only the greedy people have it in common. They have a sure knowing that at the end of the day, the only thing on their mind is what they want and how much they want it. More specifically, people that love money are the fun ones. They are the ones to conjure up ideas about money. They are the ones that know the history and process of money. They are the ones that know the banking systems and gambling secrets. They are the ones that will help me get what Jo and I wanted, an adventure that was well overdue.
Chapter 1
My eyes wee blurry and bloodshot. My head was heavy on my pillow, my body limp and twisted from the night's sleep. Slowly moving my eyes to the clock, my breath became deeper and a bit faster. Reading 4:13pm on the clock didn't make me extremely happy, but I realized that I got up now, I might have enough time to get ready for tonight's dinner with Jo and a couple that she wanted to introduce to me. After rolling out of bed and shuffling my feet to my wardrobe, there was a sticky note on the door.
"I'll be downtown untul 7. Meet me at the resturant by 8."
I hated the way she misspelled words, but I let it go because of the way she can make money and cover her tracks. After putting on a regular black-on-black suit with a black tie and sleek black loafers, I brushed my hair back tight to my head, the gel making the top of my head burn. Walking down the stairs and through the 3-story classic Victorian house, I made my way to the basement cellar, where I was greeted by an array of spider webs, broken glass, and yes, even bones.
You may be wondering why I have bones in my cellar. More importantly, you probably want to know that they aren't human bones to make sure I'm not crazy. Sadly, they are human bones, but on the bright side, it wasn't my entire fault. I have some secrets in the cellar that must be left alone and for my eyes only, and some people we knew tried to snoop around. I set traps the night before and they fell right into them. Tripping a wire and an infrared beam, the man was electrocuted to death and had the skin and meat melt off, and his wife had a series of titanium-tipped spikes shot into her. It was gruesome at first, but we had to act fast. Cleanup was simple. By using extreme amounts of dihydrogen monoxide, both gas and liquid forms, we were able to eradicate the body of all blood, tissue, organs, and fat, leaving the bones bare and dry. We used a home remedy to get the blood off the walls and floor, and we used a powerful cyclodextrin spray to rid the room of chemical smells. It was like nothing ever happened. It was like they never existed, besides the fact that the bodies are laying on the floor. Now they are a reminder to not screw with my personal possessions. I was kind of upset that we were unable to get the spikes lodged out from the woman. She looks like a messed up flail.
Collecting my thoughts and pushing my mind past the ugly remnants, I reached my vault. Now, some people have a safe for their guns, their possessions, money, or whatever else they want to keep safe. I have this same concept, but on a much larger scale. After confirming my DNA on the eye scanner, fingerprint check, and passcode requirement, I spun the heavy, cast iron combination wheel, and pulling as hard as I could, slowly pulling the door open. The screeching of metal and the grinding of rust particles pierced my ears and the smell of an old lady's house filled my nostrils. Taking my first step in, I gazed around the room, having short instant flashback memories of how I attained each item in the vault. The room was twenty feet by fifteen feet, and the ceiling stood only 7 feet tall. The walls were eggshell white with some brown patches showing from the previous paint job. The feeling of pure evil filled me and I have never felt so alive. Gazing around, I had almost forgotten what I had come down for. Taking a step further into the room, the sound of my heels hitting the ground echoing loudly, I slowly sauntered toward a secondary safe in the back left corner. The three and a half feet cast iron safe was already opened, so I knew that Jo was already here. Opening the door, I found what I had come for. Pulling out a black, leather suitcase and cell phone, I relocked the safe with the key on my neck and slipped the phone into my left breast pocket, leaving the rest of the items inside to not be remembered. I was not ready to revisit that part of my past, so I pushed it from my mind, locking my eyes on a particular spot of the room.
It was gone. As thoughts of how I was going to dispose of Jo's body ran through my head, I ran over, looking things over. She had taken my things without permission before, but this was too far. After about a million deep breaths and shouting some colorful vocabulary, I walked out of the room and slammed the vault door shut behind me with almost no effort. This is what happens when I get pissed. Jo thinks it's sexy and assertive, but I think it's annoying and unneeded.
By the time I had reached the main floor of the house, and entered the kitchen, my anger had calmed, and I had remembered why she had taken things from the vault in the first place. She had told me the night before, but I was probably drunk, pretending to be asleep, or busy not caring, so I probably let my ignorance get the best of me for that one. I took a deep breath and sat at the black marble counter in the middle of the kitchen, looking around the room. The kitchen was like any other, with a refrigerator, sink, dishwasher and cupboards galore, filled with dining ware and food. That is what it looked like on a regular day. The night before was not a regular day. Taking yet another deep breath, my lungs were filled with the odors of rotting bodies, old people, dried blood, rust, and burning coal. The kitchen was a regular crime scene, and this situation was no different. Standing up, I looked around, remembering what had happened. Circling the kitchen few times, I found bloody knives, a dented frying pan, 2 phones covered with bloody fingerprints, and remnants of a story. The blood trails told a story.
Friday night. Jo and I had dinner guests over and our intentions were a bit more maniacal that you would think. They were nobodies from the town of "No-one-gives-a-shit" and their names were: Dr. Idiot and Mrs. Shut-the-Hell-Up. All we wanted was to shag them as a four-some and let them go. That simple. Sadly, Mrs. Talkative "wasn't in the mood" and Dr. Moron "didn't roll like that". Because Jo and myself are both bisexual, we decided to have some fun. I got him and she got her. In the end, we were both bloody, tired, and sexually satisfied.