The Museum of Desire

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Eno trudged up the road. Big fancy property like this, maybe a chance to hit a lick.

His last stretch at County had ended eighty-two days ago, then he was back on the street looking for bank. Trying a few things that didn’t work out so having to do this.

Bright Dawn Cleaning and Maintenance.

He’d filled out a half-page questionnaire: Have you ever been convicted of a felony?

Hell, yeah.

He’d checked No. Later he found out from dudes at the Cyril you weren’t even allowed to ask anymore. He’da lied anyway, it was good to stay in practice.

Looking for shit to steal was Eno’s thing when he was at rich-people houses doing landscaping or roofing. His specialty was small stuff no one would notice till he was long gone. Street sale or pawn at one of the places that didn’t ask questions.

He thought of himself as careful but not careful was not noticing an old Mexican maid at a house in Hancock Park after he spotted a little gold box on a table from outside a sliding glass door. The door unlocked, shiny thing just sitting shouting Come and Get Me!!

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