Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

bedroom closet, trying being the operative word. With one arm still in the sling and the other holding the cane, his main technique seemed to involve carefully shoving them around with his foot.
    "Going somewhere?"
    "No." Daren didn't even look over at him. "But if I could get everything on the kitchen table that would be great. I need to do some sorting."
    Sebastian glanced at the clock. It was barely six a.m.. They had stayed up a bit late talking about Daren's out-of-control eighteenth birthday party. "Okay. How long have you been awake?"
    "Since four. I've been thinking."
    Sebastian pulled himself out of bed and moved the loot to the kitchen table. He made himself some coffee while Daren cracked open the suitcases and began dividing up the contents. "Have you got a plastic sandwich bag, some duct tape or electrical tape, a bit of string or ribbon, or twisty bread ties?"
    "Um… Sure." The random-stuff drawer produced a clean sandwich bag, some electrical tape, and a couple of green twist ties. "Here."
    "Great. Now could you get on the net and find me a list of current exchange rates?"
    Daren quickly put the cash into two neat piles, setting aside the bundle that was already paying the bills. Then he picked up the stack of bonds. That was something to watch. Breaking them first into monetary type, then value, Daren dove into the net looking at exchange rates and trends. He rapidly clicked through financial analysis websites and online traders, occasionally muttering to himself or rolling his eyes. When he seemed satisfied he turned back to the bonds and stared at them intently.
    Sebastian's coffee grew cold while he watched Daren jump around sites that looked like gibberish to him. This wasn't 'bratty rich kid' behavior; this was the result of generations of business geniuses breeding with each other.
    Daren took a deep breath and, employing some complicated algorithm that Sebastian couldn't follow, divided the bonds into two stacks, one much thicker than the other, but Sebastian was willing to bet they were of equal value.
    Next came the gems. Daren peered intently at each one before putting it into one pile or another. Half went back into the sunglasses case, the other half was piled on top of the small plastic bag. He picked up an oval-shaped diamond about the size of a TicTac mint. "This is a half carat of medium quality. You can buy this for about fifteen hundred in the right shop; expect to get less if you're selling it to the shop." He picked up a much larger diamond, one a bit smaller than his thumb nail. "This is five carats. Don't take any less than twenty grand for this."
    The pile that was mostly colored stones with a few diamonds went into the plastic bag, which was then wrapped in tape, keeping everything in place. "If we get split up or have to run separately, this is yours." He put his hand on the stack that had more bonds and the colored stones. "With the bonds, drop the euros first; they're too volatile these days. Save the yen for last. It's not as strong as it used to be, but still stable. You've got more of the emeralds, rubies and sapphires because they're not marked, so they're easier to shift. You've got to know where to find less-than-honest people to shift diamonds that have laser-etched serial numbers on them."
    Sebastian wanted to say that it wouldn't be needed, that they'd stick together, that Daren was certainly in no condition to run anywhere alone, but it was always good to have a contingency plan.
    "If we do get split up? Where do we meet?"
    Daren stared at the ceiling until his face broke into a grin. "Newark."
    "Newark, New Jersey?"
    "There were some guys I knew, and we decided at like one in the morning one night that we were going to drive down to Atlantic City. From the Hamptons." Sebastian barked with laughter. "Yes, there may have been mind-altering chemicals involved in this decision. Anyway, we get as far as Jersey City when we decide it might not be the best idea. We spend a bit too much time talking about this, get ourselves completely lost. And just as we see a sign for the Jersey Turnpike, Matt, who was driving and who we thought was sober, told us he'd actually done a couple bumps of coke and was crashing down hard. We freaked, wouldn't let him get on the turnpike, and we somehow ended up at the Best Western by the airport trying to sleep it off. Worst road trip ever. And we all swore we'd never set foot in Newark again. "
    "So, the Newark Airport Best