Soak 'em if you got 'em.
— The Getter
Tommy Sauter said he was a banker, but Claire and I both doubted it. He was a mark though. I spotted him paying in Bitcoin at a brewpub called The Foundry in Munster. Want to find Bitcoiners? Go to places that accept Bitcoin.
Tommy's method for getting lucky was to drown women in booze. Claire got out when she realized she was applesauced, but she'd already set up a second date with him, the next night.
The plan was simple. I said, "Before you even get to a second drink with this jackass, talk him into coming back here, to the hot tub." He took the bait faster than you can say rutabagas, which is not code for anything. It's just fun to say.
Rutabagas!!!
Claire met Tommy for drinks at 7. She already had him back here by 7:30. She was still hung over from the night before and in a foul mood. I knew they wouldn't be in the hot tub long.
The guy had fifteen keys on his keychain. Absolutely inexcusable. He arrived with a bottle of Red Berry Cîroc. Claire said he wore a thong.
My God, by Darwin's Law, the universe practically demanded that Tommy The Saucer get got.
It took twenty five minutes to copy his keys. Another ten to put them back on his myriad of tangled keychains in the exact same order. "This asshole better not be butterscotch!"
I returned his keys to his pants and texted Claire: "Beefeater." Ten minutes later, a perplexed Tommy was on his way out the door, muttering and cradling his left hand. I overheard something about side-boob.
Claire said, "He made a move. It was rejected." Good job.
Two nights later, we were at it again. On the prowl, looking for marks.
Claire asked, "Is raspberry a thing?"
"It's in the produce aisle."
"No. To your left. He's got a raspberry sticker on his laptop."
Google: Raspberry Pi. A low cost computer.
"Nope. It's a tech-nerd thing, but not specifically a tech-bro thing."
"What about a penguin?" she asked.
Google: Linux operating system.
"Another tech-nerd. No harm, no foul."
"Too many fucking logos!"
"Y'know what, Claire? Let's find someplace that accepts Bitcoin. Let the marks come to us."
Twenty minutes later, we were at a bar called Smitty's in Hammond. They had a Bitcoin ATM. Good enough.
I was still at the bar, trying to order a drink when Claire found a mark.
"Don't make it obvious when you look, but there's a guy walking this way. Stupidly skinny jeans. Glasses. I just watched him put a couple hundred bucks into the Bitcoin ATM. He's mine. You can split. I'll text you if I get anywhere."
Lots of marks near the university.
Alas, Skinny Jeans was not to be. He said he had a boyfriend, which meant even if he could be inspired to cheat, Claire wasn't his type.
But then, she had a thought.
"Maybe the boyfriend's bi? Find one, I'll find the other. Lemme try again."
We stuck to that area for a while, when trolling for marks. Sure enough, Claire found him and reeled him in. It only took a week. We found two other marks too.
"I hear you're seeing somebody," she told him. "That's a shame. You're cute."
"It's ok," he said. "We're in an open relationship." Sure they were.
His name was Peter, not Pete. He made that clear. Like it mattered. He was a big fan of Billy Joel, and arrived at the house with two bottles of wine.
"A bottle of white, a bottle of red," he announced, as if Claire should get the reference, even though the song was from decades before she was born, and that's not how the song goes, and also, shut the fuck up, Peter.
Peter's keychain had only two keys. I named them Easy and Peasy, because I was done copying them in less than five minutes. Claire got stuck with him for three hours.
The next night, we were on the prowl again, this time, at a cigar bar in Miller Beach.
The first guy we found was a guy named Gary. Gary, in Gary? Come on, bro. He was driving a Tesla with a vanity plate that said HODL IT. He had a girlfriend with him, but Claire still managed to get his number, which means he was en route to get got.
An hour later, a guy caught Claire watching his phone as he tapped on his phone. Everybody's in public, staring at their phones.
The guy turned to Claire and said, "Are you watching me?"
She twirled her hair and said, "You're cute."
Of course he bought her a fucking drink.
He said his name was Floyd, and unfortunately for him, it was. Why do parents do that to a kid? Can't shorten it. Can't nickname it. Can't even say it without getting a raised eyebrow.
You know I'm right. You're about to do it, yourself. Watch.
Claire spotted FLOYD using Coinbase. An online exchange for buying and selling Bitcoin. FLOYD was a mark.
Two hours later, I got a text that said they were on their way. Actually, the text was a reminder to pick up some Florida Limes, which wasn't totally clear, but I figured it out.
Florida Limes. FLOYD was on the line.
Clever!
OK, fine, I didn't figure it out, but she explained it to me later.
The system was a work in progress. She got him in the hot tub.
FLOYD had a "Don't Talk To Me Until I've Had My Coffee" keychain. I was glad to not talk to him at all. I copied all four of his keys in under five minutes. Back on his keychain too, though I shredded my goddamn nails in the process.
An hour later, Claire texted me:
"Florida Apricots?"
("Floyd's keys already got?")
"Grapes, on the vine," I replied.
Goobers.