The Trap

Jessica’s late again, damn it. If I had known she’d make me wait again, I should’ve gotten that haircut first. It’s ten-thirty, for Christ’s sake. We agreed to meet here at nine-thirty. How are we supposed to catch the ten-forty-five bus?

She’s not even answering her phone! God. I told her not to stay up later than twelve. She never really listens to me, does she? And she calls me her bestfriend. What the hell. I might as well see that movie alone. Too bad for her. She loves Saw. She’d seen all the Saw movies. This one’s 3D. I’ll make her green with envy. I’d say, ‘Oh my God, Jess, you should’ve seen it!’ and she’d whimper, ‘Why did you watch it without me?’ and I’d say, ‘Because you didn’t come on time, bitch.’ Heh heh. The thought alone makes me want to laugh, but of course I can’t laugh here. They’ll think I’m crazy.

The bus should be here in ten minutes. I fish for the pressed powder in my purse and check myself in the mirror. Hmm. I look pale. Could there be a restroom around here? Sure, this is a playground and all, but there should at least be a portable toilet around, right? I wouldn’t want to risk applying make-up in public. I mean, that’s not a pretty sight. What if a hot guy comes along and sees me fussing with my face? I’ve met enough guys to know that applying make-up in public is a huge no-no. I need a place where—

Woah. What’s that? An envelope?

I look around the playground. No one appears to be looking. I’m not the type to pry into other’s business but the envelope looks somewhat... hmm. Thick. What if there’s cash inside? Leave home broke as hell, come home a millionaire. Heh heh. But that’s unlikely. Why would anyone leave cash here? It could just be a bunch of print ads or “Missing” posters. Or even chain letters, God, I got so many of those in high—

Oh. My. God.

No. This can’t be serious.

God. Oh, God. I’ve never held this much cash in my hands. Oh my God. Franklin, plenty of Franklins. This can buy me several Louis Vuitton bags and shoes and, God, my whole body is shaking, but God, God.

Okay, Amy, calm down.

Okay. What do I do now.

The nearest station can’t be that far. I can surrender this money to them, be a good citizen and all that, but there’s no name or anything on the envelope and I doubt they’d really return it to whoever left it. Because, really, how would they know?

The bus just passed by. Fuck Saw. I can watch that shit anytime, and many times over with the cash I now have. Hell, I can probably even reserve the whole cinema. And Jessica, I wonder how she’d react when she sees my new designer bags. Hell, if she were here, what would she do? She probably wouldn’t think twice. She’d stuff the envelope into her bag and run like mad to the nearest shopping center. That girl wouldn’t scruple to spend the money up to the last dollar even if it wasn't hers.

But of course, I’m different. I’m a nicer girl than she is, obviously.

Okay, Amy, back to the money. This is a lot of money. I can probably stuff some Franklins into my purse—some, not all—and leave the rest in the envelope. No one would notice, I’m sure. Hey, that’s a good idea. Just a little, okay, twenty, maybe thirty, hell, why not half of the cash? There’s too many here anyway. And it’s not like anyone’s going back for it. Also, finders, keepers. The owner should at least be grateful I didn’t take the whole amount.

Maybe this is enough. I should’ve brought a bigger purse, dammit. If I had known I’d come across such, well, obscene amount of money I should’ve brought a goddamn suitcase. Then I wouldn’t have a—

“Hey, wait, who are you? Hey, where are you taking me? Also, it’s May, for Christ’s sake, why are you wearing a leather jacket? You must be sweating like... Hey! Get your hands off me! I know my rights, goddamit! Why do you have to tell me? What? What “entrapment”? Drugs? I don’t even do drugs, you moron, do I look like an addict to you? Stop touching me! Get that cuff off! My purse, hey! I didn’t do anything! I don’t know what you’re talking about! Get off me! Hey! I said—”



Two men clad in blue shirts got out of the surveillance van and watched the girl’s futile struggle inside the police car. The shorter of the two donned gloves and pushed the manila envelope and purse that fell on the pavement into plastic bags.

The other patted his shoulder and said, “Good work, officer. Who would’ve thought it’s a girl?” then laughed. The one with the Ziplocs shook his head, saying, “And a pretty one at that. Wearing a mini-skirt while picking up the payment for the drugs she sold? Some nerve that girl has.”

The other man also shook his head. “Yeah. Unbelievable.”




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