Page 22 of Goose

6

Ally

There were two groups of people I considered my clientele. Those who were wealthy, and those with high incomes. They were two totally different groups of people, each of which provided a unique opportunity.

People with high incomes were in-your-face with their alleged wealth. They often drove the most recent model of BMW or Mercedes-Benz, wore Rolex watches, designer clothes, and spent five hundred dollars on dinner while struggling to make their mortgage payments on a home that provided an obstructed view of the ocean.

The obstruction was caused by the many glass-walled two-story homes that lined the beach.

Those homes were owned by the wealthy. The wealthy were stand-offish, slow to trust others, and unwilling to carry on a conversation with someone they didn’t know. They chose to drive a ten-year-old Lexus over a BMW or Mercedes-Benz, ate at inexpensive restaurants, and wore inexpensive Seiko watches.

High-income clients carried large amounts of cash, flaunted it, and were eager to tell you of their perceived successes. Their retirement income was nestled away in an employer matched 401(k) drawing minimal interest.

My jobs with them took less than an hour.

Wealthy clients carried less than one hundred dollars in cash. Extracting information from them required that I immerse myself into their lives. Their retirement income came from real estate investments, business ventures, and interest income from the tens of millions of dollars they’d accrued over their lifetimes. A job with a wealthy client was an investment. It required the development of trust, which often took months.

Seated in a Starbucks just off the highway in Del Mar Heights gripping an empty coffee cup, I watched intently as people came and went. The area was north of San Diego, half the distance to Encinitas, where Goose and I had dinner just two days before.

Seeing a BMW or a Mercedes Benz in the neighborhood was as common as seeing a palm tree, and palm trees lined the streets. In short, the residents had extremely high incomes, but they weren’t wealthy.

It was my kind of neighborhood.

A handsome thirty-something parked in the corner of the lot. He got out, traced his hand across the temple of his perfectly sculpted business haircut, and turned toward the entrance. A double-take of his sparkling metallic black BMW M5 two times before he reached the door confirmed his high-income status.

He would likely be a perfect mark. I studied his left wrist as he reached for the door. When he did, his arm extended beyond the sleeve of his tailored suit jacket.

Gold Rolex Presidential.

Married.

Married men with high incomes were the easiest marks on earth. They spent more time in their offices watching porn and daydreaming about fucking twentysomethings than they did working. If given an opportunity to speak to an attractive young lady, they always took it. If for no other reason, the interaction would feed their ego for a month.

Their subconscious minds knew it and yearned for the attention.

To remove a watch unnoticed was a simple task for someone who possessed the skills. The only difficulty was giving the mark a reason to allow me to touch his left hand for a moment.

He quickly scanned the seating area. Upon seeing me, he did a double take, took a few steps, and stretched. While arching his back, he stole another glimpse.

His watch was as good as mine.

Men who drove sedans chose to do so for one or more of three reasons. To provide other men rides on business luncheons, as a status symbol, or to transport their family. The two car seats in the rear of his BMW let me know he was burdened with the task— at least for the day—of transporting his children.

It was 2:10 on a Friday afternoon. My guess was that his wife was shopping in Palm Springs for the weekend and he’d left the office early to enjoy a cup of coffee before picking up the kids from school.

I had an hour before he’d check his watch and realize it was gone.

I only needed three minutes.

Coffee in hand, he turned away from the counter. I ogled him until he noticed. After holding his gaze for long enough to convey interest, I glanced at the empty chair at my side. An inviting grin followed.

Just as I hoped, he took the seat. “How’s your day going?”

“Great, now.” I looked him up and down. “How about you?”

He hoisted his left ankle over his right knee and relaxed against the back of the overstuffed chair. “Not bad, considering I probably lost more money today than most men make in a year.”

Here we go…