You Owe Me Money

Jeremy looked up from his book and saw him staring at him, eyes black as coal.  His smile was wide and appeared genuine.  Jeremy knew it was forced and cold.

The man strolled up to Jeremy and sat on the bench next to him. 

“You owe me money,”  he said.

“It was just a box,” Jeremy answered. 

“It was not just a box and you know it.  You made a lot of money on it.  That money belongs to me.  It’s very simple.”

“It’s not that simple, John.  I don’t have it, anymore.”

“Well, you find a way to get that money back.  You have until tomorrow noon.  I’ll meet you back here.”  John got up and walked away.  Jeremy watched him for a few minutes, then picked up his things and left in the opposite direction.

**********

“He’s asking for the money.”  Jeremy was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and glancing at the morning news.

“We don’t have the money, moron.”  Abigail wasn’t the brightest bulb in the socket.  He knew she wasn’t going to be any help.  He looked at her and had the slightest twinge of an idea.  A small smirk crossed his face.

“What are you thinking about now?  You’d better not have some hair-brained idea running through that skull of yours, ‘cuz I’m not gonna be a part of it!  I’ve got things to do!”

Yeah.  Like curling your hair.  Always so busy, that one.

**********

The next day, Jeremy was waiting for John as scheduled.  On the bench next to him was a case with John’s money.

“How did you come up with it?”  John asked.  “I’m just curious.”

“Let’s just say Abigail isn’t curling her hair anymore and the hair extension salon is very happy.”