Chp.1 Waldo

With all your posting in the future hanging in the balance I'm a little nervous about doing this review!
*coughs*
Anyway...

timharris wrote:"What do you mean you want out?" IA look of absolute disbelief crossing his face. "Is the money not good enough for you? I mean, come on man we're pulling more than the city mayor for Christ's sake."
"No Paul, it's not the money, I just feel like I could be doing more with my life, more than petty crime and shit." Paul was a good fellowPaul was good yet he is involved in crime? Maybe find a different word? , a bit stern, but sweet. He had this way of crinkling his nose when her was thinking real hard. It's quite a site to see a man of his stature, standing six foot four and two hundred and fifty pounds, crinkle his nose and squint his eyes. Nevertheless, I knew the petty crime comment would leave Paul offended. He takes much pride in the business. Our business.
"Look Waldo, how many times do I have to go over this? Wwe are business men. What we do is an art. Pickpockets and larceny, those are petty crimes. What we do is more skillful. It's a way of life, not some kind of hobby to make a quick buck."
Of course, Paul was right. What we did was an art. What makes him suddenly change his mind?

It's been roughly three years since I joined the business. Paul's been in longer than I've beensince before I was born probably. He never really discusses the details of it.Discuss the details of the job? surely Waldo knows the details if he does the same? I often would find myself wondering what exactly it was that drew the big man to a life of drugs and crime. For me, it was the adrenaline, the adventure, living life day by day and never knowing what's going to happen. Money isn't an important thing to me. Though, there was a lot. It just didn't seem to bring me as much pleasure as it did Paul. I wanted to help people, and here I am stealing and contributing to the large number of druggies on the LA streets. But, it's all I really know how to do. Excstacy, weed, and theft, it's all I've ever known. Here, we have pretty much forgotten what the conversation was. You need to either make the paragraph above shorter, or make the next line remind us of what was said.
"I understand that Paul, it's just, I'm only eighteen and I've already wasted a good portion of my life. I have no family, the only friend I have and can trust is you...it just seems like I can be doing more. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this." What I told him was in fact the truth. I did feel like there was more I could be doing with my life. Paul would never agree however, I think he just resented the thought of losing the closest person to him in so many years. I don't blame him. He took me in when nobody else would, and treated me like his son. I've never really had a family. I was in and out of adoption agencies my whole life, until I finally decided to run away. That's how I met Paul. We've been inseparable ever since.
Paul thought for a minute, as if he were making a decision on which bank he should open an account with.Good similie, although someone between two (or more) banks would be likely to take more than a minute to decide. After a moment he started to answer, "How about this?" he asked still sorting through hard thoughts, "We haven't pulled a job in a little over a month, and the funds are starting to dwindle down a little bit." There was some truth in that statement, it had been awhile and the money was rather skimpy. "How about, I look into another job, and not any small townhouse job either, a big one. We pull it off, no problem, split it up, and you can be done. No second guessing, no looking back. Truth is, I've been wanting to cut clean for awhile now to. This way, we can both get enough money to start new lives and leave all of this behind. What do ya think?"
I studied the man's face to see if he was just messing with me, but I saw no signs of a joke. "Are you serious? One more, and that's it. No looking back?"
"No looking back."
I thought it over for a good moment. One more job, one more big job. Then, that's it. I start fresh, and make something of myself. It sounded good, too good almost. But I was willing to give it a shot. I wanted to just get out right then, but it's hard to start a life with a clean slate when you have no cash. "Alright" I said. "I'm in. Now what do you have in mind?"
Paul started running through the details of a house he'd seen a few times driving around uptown LA, big brick house, nineteenth century statues, and a black gated fence with multiple security camera's. He really wasn't kidding when he said a big job. He started grinding down how he wanted it to go, and the supplies we'd need to pull it off smoothly. Apparently, he'd been thinking a long time about this one. Really, we haven't hit a house like this before, and it would take quite a lot of planning out to get it done. Paul said a couple times he had drove by, it looked as if there were some guards lurking around the place. That wouldn't be a problem though, we have dealt with guards before. Nothing a little martial arts can't take care of.
When it came to Paul and I as a team, I was the brains and logic, Paul was the brute force. As big of a man as he is, he's quick, real quick. He's been trained in almost every form of combat there is since he was five. He's been shot multiple times and still refuses to go down. The man is unstoppable, a juggernaut.
The more we got down to the dirty details of the job, the more I started thinking about my life outside of crime. What it would be like, and how I would react? It wasn't going to be easy, but it's what I wanted more than anything. I could start college, maybe get my teaching degree, a nice thought.
We sat back a moment both in a sense of thought about what this would mean. "So, what are you gonna do, when we part ways I mean?" It was easy to see Paul wasn't managing that thought so well.
"I'm really not sure, I think I might try to become a teacher."
"A teacher huh? Mr. Waldo, the teacher. Gotta nice ring to it, haha. What would you be a teacher for? Personal Finances?
"I was thinking more along the lines of high school English. Might even give elementary a try. Grammar's always kind of been my thing."
"That it has. It's a good dream, a lot better than what I would probably come up with."
"And what would that be? A bouncer?"
"Nah, I tried the whole bouncer thing at a local bar about ten years back. I was thinking something more like a chef at a fancy restaurant. Something like that."
"A chef? I didn't even know you could cook."
"Not too well, I mean, I'm okay, I guess."
"Hmm....how about this; You go whip us up some of this restaurant style food, and I'll grind us up some of this California style kush one last time? How does that sound?"Where are they that he can just suddenly cook?
"Sounds like a damn fine plan to me son. You get the papers and I'll meet you in the kitchen."
We proceeded to do exactly that. We sat around, smoked, ate, and smoked and ate some more. It turned out Paul was just being modest. He was in fact an amazing cook. I'd never really eaten anything quite like it. I was so accustomed to us dining out and ordering Chinese, that I wasn't use to all the flavor and spice causing my taste buds to burst. It was some sort of middle eastern dish, somewhat like veil, only wrapped in a delicious blanket of herbs. We sat around a good while of the night talking about our lives and family. He told me about how he has two children, a boy and a girl, but because of a restraining order he's no longer allowed to make contact with them. I think I caught I tear rolling down the side of his cheek in the midst of the conversation, though he played it off with a good nose scratch. I learned a lot about Paul from just sitting here. Things that in the last three years he'd kept hidden from me. It was hard to believe that in a matter of a few days, I'd probably never see the big man again. I'd probably never see any of this again.
I finally got a little curious, and I decided to go ahead and ask. "Paul, when exactly are we going to pull this one off anyway?"
"Well, we need some firepower just in case, I figure we can get that from Bernie down the street, and we're gonna need some more supplies and clothes. I say we get all of that tomorrow, we can start making preparations, and get this ball rolling sometime around Saturday maybe. How does that sound?"
"It sounds just fine to me." The extra time was good. This one had to go perfect, there was no room for the slightest error on this one.
"Alright, then Saturday it is. Now, let's get some sleep, we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
Paul walked out of the kitchen towards the foldout couch. We only had a small one bedroom, and he had graciously given that up to me. No doubt we probably could've afforded a nicer place, but, when you're in the business we are you never know when you're gonna have to get up and leave everything you own. The less you had to worry about, the better.
I dragged myself off to my twin matress in the single bedroom, fell into it, and let sleep succumb me.