Here's the story
that inspired the story.
— Not Joe
In early November, 2024, Bitcoin had just climbed above $70k for the first time. Almost immediately, it climbed even higher.
That Friday night, I was meeting up with some friends at a pub. They were running late, so I bellied up to the bar and ordered a beer. Darker than dark. MMMmmmm.
The guy sitting next to me introduced himself. Our brief conversation went like this:
He said, "What's up? I'm Joe."
"Hi."
"You into Bitcoin?"
"Huh?" That was a clever way to dodge the question, doncha think? Okay, not really, but it worked.
He said, "Oh, man. I'm making a killing on Bitcoin."
"Should you be telling people that?"
"Ah, you're just jealous."
I said, "Whatever," and I reached for my phone, as if to suggest disinterest.
Moments later, a woman sat down, and he started having the exact same conversation with her. My jaw dropped. I couldn't help thinking, "This idiot's practically begging to get robbed."
I looked at the woman. She was wearing a little black dress, and she looked lovely, but also mysterious in the way a woman in a little black dress does.
I looked at her and thought, "Oh, yeah. She could rob this guy. Easily."
To be clear, I have no reason to think the woman I saw in the pub that night was a criminal. She was just somebody who sat down next to an idiot, and she left as soon as he started bragging.
I'm just saying, for me, that moment was the birth of an idea. It felt like I was sitting in a scene of somebody's story, watching it unfold. I thought, "I'd read that story. Somebody should write it." Then I laughed at myself, because I'm somebody. So, I thought, "I should write it!"
As I sat there, trying to imagine what the rest of the story might be, I got a text from the friends I was waiting for. They said there was a change in plans. We were meeting at a different pub, a few blocks away. I texted back to say I couldn't make it because I had a change in plans too.
I sipped my beer and thought about the story of the woman in the little black dress robbing the guy who bragged. I asked myself again and again, "How would she do it?" Each time I came up with a possible answer, I thought, "Right, but how?"
Maybe she'd go home with him. She'd tell him she's into kinky stuff and say, "Get me something to tie you up with. I'll fuck your brains out." Then, once he was tied up, she'd say, "Now here's the part where you get robbed."
The flaw in that idea was obvious. Sure, she could rob him, but he'd know she did it. Even if he didn't know her name, he'd at least know what she looked like.
I thought, "Maybe she researches men in different cities, and travels there, to rob them." It seemed too risky.
So, I changed my question to, "How could she rob him without him knowing she did it?"
Again, I imagined her going home with him. Maybe she'd flip the lock on one of his windows while he was using the bathroom. That would make it possible for her to come back another time to search the place when he wasn't home. They'd still meet though. Still too risky.
When I got home, as I hung my keys on the hook where I keep them, I froze.
I remember standing there, staring at my keys on the hook.
"That's it! She needs to get his keys. But she needs a way to get his keys without him knowing she got his keys. He can't even know she exists. How the hell does she do that? She'd need someone else for that. She'd need a partner. Maybe the woman in the little black dress at the bar was the partner, not the thief. Okay... so... how does the woman in the little black dress end up working with a thief? How do they meet?"
That's where the story really began, but there was one more big idea that helped me write this novel.
As I said, I had the original idea for this story in November, 2024. I tried writing it, but I got nowhere.
I tried again in December. And January. And February. Same result.
Finally, in late February 2025, I asked myself, "What's the problem here?!? I think I've got a great idea. Why can't I write the story?
My breakthrough came when I realized I was trying to tell the wrong story.
I kept thinking back to when I was sitting in the pub that night. I didn't care about the guy. He was an idiot who wanted to brag to anyone who'd listen.
I had no interest in his story.
I imagined the woman who'd rob him. I wanted to know her story. Who was she? How did she become somebody who'd do that? How did she figure out how to do that? Did she face any consequences? Was she somebodys partner in crime? Was the whole thing a setup?
Once I knew the story was about criminal, not the crime, I knew how to write it.
The novel has gone through many drafts, and it's still being edited. Along the way, an entire chapter was deleted and at least seven scenes were added.
I'm very excited about this story. I hope you enjoy it.
— H. E. Tobe