Lies I Told(8)

The Playa Hermosa War Room looked like any suburban media room. Overstuffed sofa? Check. Bar? Check? Massive TV complete with surround sound? Double check. Except it also had a small table for our meetings and a shredder, essential for adherence to our leave-no-proof rule.

My dad sighed. “I said I was going to, didn’t I?”

“Sometimes things slip.” She bristled, taking a seat on one of the chairs. “I was just asking.”

“Security doesn’t ‘slip.’ Not now, not ever,” he said tightly.

I shifted nervously on the sofa. It had been happening between them more and more often, little annoyances and irritations, disagreements over seemingly insignificant details. I told myself that it wasn’t unusual. Everyone got nervous at the start of a job. We were like an overworked acting troupe, trying to keep our roles straight even as we were given new lines and costumes every few months. It would be stressful for anyone.

But part of me knew it was more than that. Our cracks were starting to show, spreading out like the fault lines that lay under California, the pressure building and building until, one day, the earth moved with it.

“Let’s just get started.” My mom looked from me to Parker. “How did it go today?”

Parker made no move to answer, so I spoke up. “I sit next to Rachel Mercer in AP Euro.”

“That’s an unexpected bonus. Any interest?”

“A little. She’s a queen bee, though, so I have to play it cool.”

She smiled affectionately. “I’m sure you can handle Rachel Mercer. And if she doesn’t let you in, Logan will.”

“I actually ran into him in the hallway.”

“I thought you weren’t working him until we were inside,” Parker said from the other end of the couch.

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I had an opportunity, so I took it.”

Parker took his job as older brother seriously. He hated it when I ran point, when I was “used” to further a con. But I never saw it that way. We were a family. As much as I sometimes struggled with what we did, I liked doing my part, pulling my own weight.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I pretended to drop something and he picked it up, so I introduced myself.”

“Nicely done,” my dad said. “Any other interesting contacts?”

“I met a girl I really like,” I answered. “Selena Rodriguez. I sat with her at lunch.”


“Selena Rodriguez.” My mom repeated the name. “Was she in the subject files?”

I shook my head. “I needed a place to sit and ended up at her table. She’s nice.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you made a friend. Maybe you can use her.”

I flashed on Selena’s clear brown eyes, her unguarded smile. Something twisted in my stomach, and I immediately regretted mentioning her. “Yeah, maybe.”

I was relieved when my dad turned his eyes on Parker. “What about you?”

“Not much. I have gym with Logan and one of his friends. The coach put us on the same basketball team. It’s only the first day, but I think I can work my way in.”

“Sounds like a productive first day.” He leaned forward. “Now, let’s go over some details.”

I sat back to listen. The broad strokes of the Playa Hermosa job had been laid out before we arrived, but we were never given all the details of a con until we were in character and on-site.

“As you know, the target is the Fairchild family,” my dad began. “More specifically, Warren Fairchild, son of Richard Fairchild the Third, CEO of Fairchild Industries, one of the oldest and richest companies in the world. Fairchild Industries got its start in transportation and now has divisions in technology, pharmaceuticals, communications, even space tourism.”

He was selling us the mark, making it seem like Warren Fairchild wouldn’t miss what we were stealing. Either that, or Warren didn’t deserve what he had in the first place. It was something my dad did to alleviate any guilt we might feel over what we were about to do. Most of the time, I believed him. I tried not to think about the other times.

“Warren wasn’t the only Fairchild offspring,” he continued. “He had an older brother who died in a boating accident when Warren was sixteen, leaving him the only remaining Fairchild heir. It was unfortunate for Richard, because Warren was unstable from the beginning.”

That got my attention. “Unstable how?”

“He had brushes with paranoid delusions from a young age, but Richard managed to keep it quiet with a string of discreet therapists and expensive clinics,” he explained. “A few years ago, he finally gave up on Warren ever assuming a role in the business. Now Warren lives quietly on his trust fund, which is just the way Richard likes it.”

“So, what? We’re going after the trust fund?” Parker asked.

My dad shook his head.

“Then what?”

I recognized the shine in his eyes. He would grift for a nickel if there wasn’t a bigger mark around.

“For at least a decade,” he began, “Warren has been convinced there’s going to be some kind of catastrophic worldwide event. And he’s been preparing for it.”

“A catastrophic event?” I repeated.

My mom looked at me. “A major earthquake, an asteroid hitting the earth, a—”