‘You and Montana Jones. Called it quits?’ ‘We ended our partnership. If that’s what you mean.’ ‘It’s not.’ Mint picks up his bag, heft... it in his hand. He surprises her by tossing it in her direction. ‘Count it,’ he says, his gun on her again. She stares him in the eyes as she drops to her haunches and unzips the bag. She runs her nails along the surface of the bills, appreciates how unforgiving the stacks feel beneath her french tips. She snaps a rubber band. ‘Quit fucking with it, and count. “What hints?” Trevor asked, watching her hand scrape against her chest. “What’s gotten into you Carly?” Carly let her eyes give him that look which said that he knew what she wanted, just as a drop of rain hit her face. She squealed as Trevor grabbed the magazine and tossing it into the dumpster. He grabbed her hips and pulled her close to him, smashing his lips against hers. As their tongues slipped into their mouths, the drip, drip, drip, of rain started, and built until it was a steady. More

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