Don't Trust, Verify.
— Advice From A Hoodie
I spotted our first official mark at a Saturday matinee for the Denzel Washington flick, The Little Things.
Movies were a decent way to find marks. I'd spot a guy waiting in line, and I'd call Claire. This guy was wearing a hoodie that said, "Don't Trust, Verify." That's solid advice, bro.
The trick for Claire was to spot him after the movie, on his way out. She'd have to get him away from his friends long enough to convince him to ask her on a date. The mark needs to think the date was his idea.
The first time I found a mark this way, Claire looked offended when I asked how she'd get the guy. She acted like I was questioning her skills.
"I got this," she said as she rolled her eyes almost out of their sockets.
"Tell me how."
"You can't be serious."
"Come on. I told you how to spot him. How are you gonna get some random guy walking out of a movie to ask you out?"
"FINE," Claire said, in a way that proved it was clearly not. Then she backed up ten paces and barked at me. "C'mere, bitch."
As we walked toward each other, she collided with me, bumping me hard.
"Ouch! What the...?"
"Oh my God," she said. "I'm so sorry. I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I... oh... Hey. Hi! Uhm... You're... cute."
She batted her eyelashes while running her fingers through her hair, twirling the ends that ran past her shoulder. And she dropped her purse. "God, I'm clumsy today," she said as she bent over to pick it up. That girl had legs that went all the way to the floor, if you know what I mean. Then she stood tall, tossing the purse strap over her shoulder while she batted her eyelashes again and licked her lips.
I'd seen enough.
"OK, Claire, wow. You proved your point."
"Told ya," she said.
"One more thing. Wear this."
I handed her a red rubber bracelet.
"What the fuck is this shit?"
"We've both gotta cut down on our swearing, but especially you, because your job is to charm the marks. So, use the bracelet as a reminder. Every time you curse, take it off and put it on your other arm. Don't say why. Just do it. If the guy asks, say it's a nervous tick. Swapping the bracelet from arm to arm will help you become aware of how often you curse. I know it sounds weird, but it works, and we've both gotta cut down on the vulmuthafuckingarity. Like, way down."
"Looks like you need a bracelet too, bitch."
"I need a drink."
"Go home, Shay. I'll see you when I'm done."
I left and nervously waited for an update. An hour later, she came triumphantly strolling through the front door.
"His name's Dave," she said. "We're meeting at a pub for happy hour tomorrow." She brought him back to the house the same night.
Damn. She's good.
Dave, however, turned out to be obnoxious. I know it's rude to judge the guy you're trying to rob, but damn. Bro had nothing to say, yet he kept talking, and I kept the door to my bedroom open just a crack so I could listen. That's probably rude too.
Whatever.
They were in the living room for a while. He was facing away from me, but I could see Claire.
After watching her swap the bracelet from arm to arm nine times (GOD DAMN GIRL), Dave asked what the deal was. Tactful as an actual tack. Ouch.
Claire said, "I, uhm... I fidget. It's a thing. I used to twirl my hair, but a guy said it made me look like a ditz. Well, FUCK that guy. Hahaha... Ahem. Anyway, I had one of those fidget spinner things for a while, but I kept spinning it, sending it flying off the table, so my sister said, 'Enough, girl!' She gave me the bracelet to fidget with instead. It kinda works."
Wha-ho! She handled it like a pro.
Eventually, she talked him into stripping down for a dip in the hot tub.
I waited until the coast was clear before I went looking for his pants. I grabbed his wallet, to take a picture of his driver's license, and I snatched his keys.
His keychain had a quick release flippy thingamabob. It was easy to remove the keys and put them back on after I made copies with my HPC Speedex. I stashed the copies in my desk and put his keychain back in his pants. My work for the night was done in under ten minutes. Not bad.
Claire's job of getting him out of the house was another matter. He stuck around for hours. I had the door to my basement workshop open, as I waited for her to lose him (Yo yo yo, gotta go, gotta go. To the bathroom). Finally, I heard Claire say, "I just don't think we're a match." That's girl code for "No second date. GTFO."
With the mark gone, it was time to talk.
"How'd it go?"
She said, "Fine."
"What does he do for a living?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
"Well, what did he talk about?"
"His dog. His car. Going to the gym. That's all, but he wouldn't shut up about it."
Got a dog? Good to know.
"Any issues?" I asked.
"Nope. You?"
"Nope."
This was starting to feel too easy, and we were only on our first real mark. Shhhhh. She didn't know Andre was a mark.
Our process for getting marks' addresses and house keys was flawless. And living in the house with Claire was working out too. She was quiet and moody, but not like my mom. Claire didn't hide or disappear. If she was pissed about something, she'd read a book. She drank like a fish, but I did too. Only at night. Usually. And some afternoons, but why not? We had a lot to celebrate.
Things were going well.
I kept the fridge stocked and made sure she always had money in her pocket so she didn't ask questions.
I needed her to work on asking the marks more questions, though.
"Hey, so, Claire... I need you to pretend like you're actually interested in these guys. Try to find out stuff that'll be good for me to know when I hit their homes. It's easier to search for their Bitcoin seed words when I know what to expect before I get there."
"What do you want to know?"
"You mentioned this guy has a dog. That means I need treats when I go to his place. Is the dog friendly? Does he live with anybody? Does he work regular hours? Details help a lot. And make up bullshit stories about your past. Use them to ask leading questions so he'll volunteer info without you needing to ask. Get him talking and let him ramble so you can tell me if there's anything I need to know."
"Fine. Got it."
Did she, though?