When they took another left at the entrance road, they both peeked down to the west to see if the woman's car was in her driveway, but it was too far to tell.

They were silent and drove out to Eighth Street and spotted Marcus sitting on a bench under a bus stop shelter. He jumped in back when they pulled over and then squirreled his way up until he was hunched between them.

"It was her, dudes. I watched her go right up into the garage." His voice was excited, like he was describing some kind of sports play he'd watched in the game while they'd been out pissing.

"Man, you guys were just around the corner."

"She see the van?" Buck asked.

"Didn't see you pull out, no. Maybe seen your ass pull 'round the next street if she was payin' attention."

"Doubt that," Wayne said.

"That's why we switch the tags. Every time, boys."

The two young ones nodded. Learning from the man.

"So what'd ya git? Huh?" Marcus said, taking a quick inventory behind and around himself but wanting to hear it.

"We might get a thousand out of it," Buck said dryly.

"What? With this big screen? And that's a brand-new Bose with the multiple changer, dude. That's like nine hundred retail," Marcus whined.

"What we do ain't retail, boy," Wayne said, deepening his voice to mock the phrase Buck always used on them. Both of them laughed and even Buck let a grin tickle the side of his mouth.

"An' what's this?" Marcus then said, reaching out to pull at a piece of turquoise silk that was now sticking out of Wayne's side pocket. "This here somethin' valuable, Stubby?"

Wayne looked down and slapped at his friend's hand, blood flushing his cheeks and then cutting his eyes to Buck, who'd glanced over and then lost the grin.

"No, but this is," Wayne said, recovering and leaning forward to reach under the seat to pull out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black he'd found in the den while Buck was upstairs.