There was no way out—the deal was nearly done. I had to calm down, this was crucial. So I took a few seconds to breathe, then I pasted an easy smile on my face. Casually—like I did this every day—I reached for one of the piles of cash and thumbed through it. Just a spot check.
The blur of the bills going by looked good, so I stopped at one of them to examine it more closely. And that’s when all the air rushed from my lungs, snapping me to full attention. Something was seriously wrong. At first I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but realization pierced through my denial and forced me to accept the truth.
I was staring at a three-dollar bill.
I felt my blood chill hard, like flash-frozen vegetables. The deal was definitely dead, and I might be, too. I needed to run now—I had to take action. But I couldn’t seem to move my body. I was physically immobilized with fear. Caught! Again! Damn if I wasn’t the world’s worst con artist.
How had this happened? Did he know the guitar was a fake? What else did he know about this con? About me?
My best guess was that the authenticator had changed his mind. Carl said that the guitar wouldn’t pass all tests, but that it would pass the initial examination. Perhaps Peters took a sample and had it more thoroughly tested later. Whatever the reason, Alejandro had learned the truth. I’d been swindling him.
Standing there unsteadily, I felt all my walls start to collapse. The lies and the con began to fade, and I could barely remember what name I had used. All I could see was the end of my life, dying in a prison cell.
Then, with a mental slap to the face, I confronted my reality. The first order of business was escape, so I dropped the pile of cash and turned to the door. Good thing I’d parked my car close.
But Alejandro had beaten me to the door and stood there with his arms folded. “Is there a problem?” His smile was gone, replaced with an emotionless mask, hard and opaque.
Bea always told me, “Never let them see you sweat.” But it was far too late for that. I gathered as much of myself as I could and folded my arms, too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He blew out a harsh laugh. “You’re right, there’s nothing wrong here. Fake money in exchange for a fake guitar.” He leaned closer and squinted. “You tried to cheat me, didn’t you, Ms. Dee Frank.”