Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Ezra gasped, approaching one of the shelves so fast he almost tripped over a vintage travel chest. “That’s a Birkin. That’s a fucking Birkin bag!” he said, grabbing the elegant, nearly pristine leather bag. He needed to verify all the details, but he could swear it was a Birkin. From the golden lock to the precise stitching, everything about it screamed luxury.
Jag approached him with a smile. “And it was filled with cash when I found it sewn into an old coat, which was stuffed with a bunch of other clothes in a wardrobe someone brought here.”
Ezra stared at Jag’s satisfied smile, but he wanted to scream, because this was fucking ridiculous. Why was Frank spending his time moving rusted cars from one place to another when he could be focusing on all this? Instead of complaining though, he muttered, “You’re a great tracker. I think we need a camera.”
He’d been wrong to judge this place. He’d been the shortsighted one. Sure, it was filled with trash, dangerous, and dirty, but it hid all these treasures. He looked out through the door, at the piles obscuring the horizon, and instead of a trap, he saw endless possibility.
Chapter 16
Ezra
Jag had long gotten bored of painstakingly going through item after item. Last time Ezra checked, he’d fallen asleep in the doorway, his mouth wide open as he snored and panted between episodes of growls and mumbling, but that did not interrupt Ezra’s focus. Many of the items would need to be double-checked—some online, some by experts he could help Frank find, but there was thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff rotting away in the container, money that might help Frank renovate his home, or get a new truck.
And while he wanted to make Frank’s life easier by helping him with this, he couldn’t deny the excitement of discovering brand stamps and features the Internet promised distinguished copies from genuine articles. He could get all those things in top shape, put them up on eBay or at pawn shops. Some he might even contact physical auction houses for. He was on the cusp of something new, and the excitement it filled him with resonated in his skull, until the perusing turned almost meditative.
A yelp at the door pulled him out of his hyperfocus, and when he looked up, he saw Jag half-asleep, but already scrambling up with his pipe-spear in hand.
“Who… goes?” he muttered groggily.
“It’s just me,” Frank said, lifting his palms, but glancing over Jag’s weapon, and to Ezra.
He was kind of… elegant tonight. Sure, he had jeans on, but they were clean, not the torn ones he wore for work, and instead of a hoodie, he wore a black shirt under his favorite leather jacket. Seeing him like this made the slouch of Ezra’s sweatpants feel more prominent. He only then realized that the air had a tart tinge of his sweat, and the T-shirt surely stuck to him in places that felt damp.
“Oh, you’re... early,” Ezra said, grabbing the rain jacket and covering himself with it. He tried to always look his best around Frank, and this outfit was not it.
“Yeah, I have a surprise for you. I just wasn’t expecting to find you here.” Frank threw a glare at Jag, who just shrugged.
Ezra blinked when his eyes readjusted to facing the open door rather than well-lit items. When had it gotten dark? How long had he been here? “Frank. Sit down. This here is a real Birkin bag,” Ezra said, picking it up. “I’m ninety percent sure of it. You have so much valuable stuff in here!”
Frank approached him with a curious smile. “A what bag?” he asked and, to Ezra’s absolute mortification… pulled on the cat ear of the pink hairband Ezra forgot he’d put on to keep hair out of his eyes as he slouched over items.
He froze, then pulled the thing off. “I look so silly. I’m sorry, but I just got so excited. I know you don’t have time for any of this, but I could do it for you. If you let me,” he added more flatly when it occurred to him that Frank might not be happy about this development. What if he worried Ezra might steal from him? Just because Jag considered Ezra Frank’s “mate” didn’t mean Frank did.
Frank chuckled and stroked his hair, but Ezra was still nervous about the potential fallout. “You’re excited about what? What have you been doing? Show me.”
Jag butted in. “He knows all the names of these things.
Ezra cleared his throat and zipped up the jacket. “Maybe not all of them, but I have a fairly good idea about some, and I could look up others, if you consent. I started cataloging them, measuring, and taking photos. I’m sorry I had Jag lead me here without asking you first, but I thought I could help you out,” he added, meeting Frank’s gaze, which focused on him with the warmth of hot chocolate. The kind Ezra no longer allowed himself but still remembered from childhood.