Two hours thirty minutes.
"So, I take you to my parents' house, and the first thing you think to do to get their approval is to break into their room, steal stuff, jump out their window, and almost sleep with my sister?" Latisha scoffed, utterly bedazzled.
Gun rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, it's not what it sounds like—"
"I mean, I hate their fucking guts, so I'm actually happy about it. That douchebag is going to be pissed." She grinned wickedly, holding the briefcase.
He gave her a long look as she added, "But... did you fuck her? Not that it matters—you're my ex."
"No." His tone was firm as he stopped at a red light.
"No? Why not?" she asked, genuinely perplexed.
"The fuck? You want me to sleep with your sister?" he asked, incredulous.
"Well, technically it's step-sister. And yeah, I hate her fucking guts," she shrugged, lighting a cigarette.
He frowned as the light turned green. "I don't do sisters... Moms, maybe. Not sisters."
She almost choked. "You want to fuck my mom?"
He shot her an irritated glance. "Can you just open the damn briefcase, Latisha?"
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, I mean, if that's your preference, go ahead."
"I'm not interested in any of your relatives," he muttered. "We had something good, and you broke up with me."
"Yeah, well, you're not exactly winning Boyfriend of the Year now, are you? That had to be the shittiest first impression in history," she laughed, her voice loud in the small car.
"Just open the briefcase."
Latisha popped it open and gasped. "Not money... Diamonds!" she grinned wildly. "Oh, and those watches you took? Quality stuff—those alone could fetch fifty thousand dollars."
Gun hit the brakes, glancing at his watch. Two hours, thirty seconds.
"Shit! Do you know where we can pawn these?" he asked, his voice desperate.
She took a slow drag of her cigarette and exhaled. "Did you just ask me if the sky is blue?"
He let out a long sigh. "I love you."
"Easy there, boy. You've got great dick, that's it."
She directed him to a seedy part of town. They pulled up to a neon-lit motel near the dumpiest side of the area.
Inside, a bell dinged as an old man with a cigar grunted, "Oi, need a room?"
"Yeah, with rice," Latisha said.
The old man nodded, locking the door behind them and stepping out from behind the counter. He sat at a table, flicked on a light, and leaned forward. "What've you got?"
She plopped the briefcase onto the table and opened it. The man arched an eyebrow. "It's a mix."
Latisha frowned, and Gun tensed.
The old man tested the diamonds, separating the real ones from the fakes. "Some are genuine, but these..." He motioned to the others.
Latisha's mouth formed an "O." "Oh, shit..."
The man continued, "The real ones? They'll fetch twenty grand, tops."
Latisha glared at him. "Huh? You playing with me?"
Gun's eyes widened in panic. "Twenty grand? That's nowhere near enough!"
The old man smirked. "The fake ones, though? They're worth a lot more." He dropped a larger briefcase onto the table. "Three hundred grand."
Both Gun and Latisha's eyes widened, practically falling out of their sockets.
Without another word, the old man returned to his window, leaving them in stunned silence.
Back in the car, Gun opened the briefcase and stared at the stacks of crisp bills. "Holy shit!"
"No time to get teary-eyed, Gun. We've gotta move," Latisha said, tapping the dashboard.
As Gun drove, his mind raced. "Why the hell do the fakes cost more?"
She leaned back, drawing her cigar. "You know, for a banker, you're pretty dumb," she chuckled.
"It's obvious... You get it, don't you, Gun?"
He stayed silent, gripping the wheel tighter.
She blew out a slow stream of smoke, her voice dropping to a whisper. "My mother's husband is not someone you should've messed with."
The hum of the engine filled the silence as her final words hit him like a slap.
"He's going to kill you."