It was supposed to be a simple retrieval job. In and out. I was supposed to recover a necklace from the house of some rich dude who, to be honest, probably wouldn’t even have noticed that it’d been taken. Fucking rich people. I knew the house would be empty tonight because it was the night of the big gala. Every local and national newspaper hadn’t shut up about it for the past two weeks. Everybody who was anybody in New Zealand would be there. A “celebration of the spirit of generosity” the New Zealand Gazette had dubbed it. Philanthropist and all round rich guy, Edward Monay was donating millions of dollars to the poor and underprivaleged of New Zealand. Whoopty fuckin’ doo. Why do rich people always have to tell the world they’re gonna donate money? Why not just do it and then feel good about it in private? I don’t make a song and dance every time I give a dollar to a homeless person who shakes their cup at me on the street. I laughed. A dollar compared to Monay’s millions. Monay. Geez, even his fucking name sounded wealthy. “Fuckin’ rich people,” I said, lightly shaking my head and chuckling as I crept along the outside wall of Mr Monay’s estate.
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