Love is the key to your heart.
This is the key to your front door.
It's lovely.
— Not Your Keychain
During COVID lockdowns, I had time to come up with the perfect plan. I'd steal Bitcoin without hacking, because fuck if I knew anything about that. I'd do it old school, every step of the way.
The plan was simple:
Buy a house, a hot tub, and a key duplicator.
Find a partner to use as a decoy.
Find guys who own Bitcoin.
My partner gets the guy in the hot tub.
I snatch his keys and wallet from his pants.
His driver's license gives me his address.
My copy of his keys get me in without breaking in.
I search his home to find his Bitcoin seed words. Most Bitcoiners write them on paper, to protect themselves from online hackers. But I'm not a hacker. I'm a ghost. I find his seed words. Take a picture. And leave.
The mark wouldn't even know I exist.
But for this to work, I needed a partner. I needed a girl so desperate to escape a bad situation she'd see my hot tub scheme as her way out.
And I knew where to find a girl like that.
Broadway.
They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway. I don't know who the fuck they are, but they've never been to Broadway Avenue in Gary, Indiana.
Broadway is a dark and depressing place, even during the daytime, but it's so much worse at night. Especially on a cold winter night.
In January 2021, I spent many nights wandering along Broadway, watching the ladies at work in the shadows. Just watching.
One girl kept approaching cars, but she usually backed away, like she'd changed her mind or couldn't do it. The only driver I saw her actually talk to was in an old, beat-up, gray Cadillac. I could tell she wasn't sure about what she was doing. I watched her lean in the window. Her head got pulled in. She decked the guy and he shoved her back out, sending her reeling across the sidewalk.
She hit the ground hard and tried to hide her tears as she picked herself up, walking away in disgust.
I know that look.
I followed her into The Lakeside Saloon, a shitty bar, befitting a shitty situation in a shitty town on a shitty night.
She ordered a drink. Whiskey. Neat. The way she nursed it said it was a luxury she couldn't afford.
I waited for her to finish it before I made my move. As she stared at the empty glass, I made eye contact with the bartender and waved him over.
"Tell my sister her next one's on me."
"Your sister?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, I didn't know."
Neither did she, but as she looked my way with a raised eyebrow, I knew she took the bait.