Option Three

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"Money Honey" writers' event

. These are stories of how money, or a lack thereof, changes people's lives. We hope you enjoy the stories. They are spread across the categories, but there's a page where they're all listed. Give them a try, wherever you find them. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

I must thank my team. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. My readers and editors are SBrooks103X, Cagivagurl, Hooked1957, Stev2244 and Hale1. I thank you all.

A word on comments. I allow anyone to comment. I reserve the right to delete your comment if it's bullshit. Randi

It was hot as fuck, but I was enjoying that heat. There was a shimmering off across the valley, the sun making it look like a wide, still lake. I had the top and doors off on my new red Rubicon, and I was just about to start the steep climb over the mountain.

The road was bad, more like a goat track, but I was in the right vehicle. "Unimproved" was an understatement by Siri. This was fucking primitive. Just what I wanted. I consoled myself with the thought of my destination: Canyon Lake was about 10 rough miles over the mountain. I hadn't seen a sign of humans since I turned off the highway. Just like I wanted it.

As I bounced my way around the bend, I saw two trucks pulled into a wash ahead, and three bikes. I wondered what the hell they were doing out there. The doors on the trucks were open and I noticed one of the bikes was toppled. That's when I noticed the bodies. I assumed they were bodies. I couldn't imagine what live people would be doing lying out there like that.

I stopped about 200 yards away and looked carefully around. Nothing stirred, so I dug around in my backpack for my phone. Using the zoom feature on the camera, I took a closer look. They were definitely bodies. All of them had gaping wounds, and one guy had half his head blown off. Nothing moved, so I got out and scrounged around in my big pack in the back until I found my weapons. I buckled on my twin H&K VP40s and pulled up the deck lid. The Remington 870 Magpul had a nice heft and I loaded it, putting it beside me when I climbed back in.

I moved forward, very cautiously, keeping my eyes open, ready to punch it and take off like a bat out of hell. I stopped about 20 yards from a flatbed truck that had seven barrels on it. Nothing was moving, so I got out, keeping the shotgun ready. I circled around, checking every bush and rock, but the bodies all seemed to be clustered around that flatbed and they weren't going anywhere.

I cautiously approached and looked them over. One of the bikers was still alive. I had no idea how, but he wasn't going to be for long. I went back to the Jeep and got a bottle of water out of my cooler.

When I held it to his lips, his eyes opened and he looked up at me as he swallowed twice. I took the bottle away and he might have breathed 10 more times. His eyes went dull, and he was gone. I felt odd, like I should have been more affected by this man dying in front of me, like I should be more emotional about it, but I felt no connection to him. It made me feel very uncomfortable, but that was it. I gave a mental shrug.

I circled around twice more before approaching the flatbed. The four dead guys looked Hispanic, the others were bikers, by their tatts and clothes, and they were white. I opened one of the barrels and it was full of what appeared to be meth. Suddenly, I realized this situation was 10 times as sketchy as I first thought. I wanted no part of the meth. That was some nasty shit.

I looked inside the first truck, but beyond weapons, mine were better, there was nothing interesting. The second truck proved a little more provocative. There were four cases in the back, and they all contained money. Lots and lots of hundred-dollar bills.

I weighed my options. I could drive away and forget I was there, I could go somewhere and notify the law, or there was option three.

*****

Four hours later, I was in my room in Wilcox, trying to figure the best way to get a count of the money. My best estimate was somewhere around nine million. This was going to be hard to explain to Jason, but I had confidence in my abilities. Option three was looking good.

I was scheduled for a three-day excursion. Schedules are meant to be broken. Jason wasn't expecting me back for three days, but he was going to be surprised. I liked surprises. It turned out he didn't.

I had stopped at a little diner that advertised free WiFi, got on Tor and sent a tip to the state police. My hands were clean. Well, as clean as they were going to get. I had zero compunction about stealing the drug money. Better me than the drug gangs or the cops. Those dirty bastards could pull Grandma over for not wearing her seatbelt if they needed funding, and fuck the gangs.

It was late evening when I pulled into the driveway. There were a couple of lights on, so I figured Jason was home. I took a deep breath, girded my loins and went in, leaving my shit in the Jeep. He could help me carry it.

I didn't see him, so I went to the bedroom. I saw him, then. I also saw Tanya. The bitch was doing her best imitation of some fake moans as Jason was driving into her from behind. The skanky hoe was probably taking it in the ass. They both looked around when I opened the door and began to scramble.

Tanya fell off the bed away from me and Jason made a grab for the sheet to cover up.

I snorted. "Don't bother. I've seen that pathetic little weenie. Damn, Tanya, you should have asked if you were that hard up. Going after a married man like that? What were you thinking?"

I heard a whimper from over there and Jason opened his mouth. "Kai, I... this..."

"Shut the fuck up," I snarled. "Just keep your ass right there. I'll be gone in 30 minutes."

He was stupid, got up and grabbed me by the arm as I passed by on the way to the closet. Men should never attempt to grab a woman when they're in the nude. Those dangly bits are rather... exposed. I crushed his with my left knee, took him by the throat when he bent over with a thin scream and choke-slammed him onto his back. He lay there trying to get enough air to whimper, clutching at his nards with both hands. I put my sneaker on his throat. "Stay there, motherfucker, understand?"

He clutched feebly at my ankle and nodded, his eyes bugging out in a very unattractive look. I marched around the bed and Tanya was trying to claw her way underneath.

"Please, Kai, don't hurt me. I'm so sorry!" Her hands were out in an attempt to ward me off.

"I should kick your ratchet ass. Stay where you are, and I won't. Got it?"

She nodded, looking up at me with wide terrified eyes. "Nice tits," I said. What the hell, they were.

I made five trips, had all my shit and was on the road in 30 minutes. I checked into the airport Holiday Inn, booked a flight for Tuvalu on the overmorrow and went to bed. Again, I found myself disturbing. I should have been crushed, my emotions raw, a wreck. I didn't. My marriage had just crumbled into dust and I was just mad. I wondered what was wrong with me.

I had seen people I knew become like the walking dead when their marriage fell apart. They were in therapy, needed people to stay with them and barely survived. Did I not love Jason? I thought I did. I had tried to be a good partner. I showered him with affection and fucked his eyes out.

Now that it was over, I just felt angry and numb. I thought back to the first time I had foster parents. I remembered them. They were kind and loving, and then one day they were gone and I was in another home with strangers. I remembered being brokenhearted, crying myself to sleep, night after night. As I shuffled through the system, I seemed to have lost that ability, protecting myself, not allowing myself to care. Had I lost the ability to care? The thought made me very insecure and unhappy. I didn't sleep well, but I slept long. I felt fairly rested in the morning. I was going to Tuvalu. My newfound wealth was making a dream come true.

I was in the third grade when I found Tuvalu. There was a big globe in the library, one of those rough ones that had geographical features. I loved looking at it, running my hands over it, dreaming about those places with the strange sounding names. I was looking around the Pacific Ocean and I felt a little bump. I looked closely and saw the name: Tuvalu. It was just a speck, but I loved that name, for some reason.

I said the name, over and over again to myself. I read everything I could find about Tuvalu, searched the internet, discovered all the interesting facts and I told myself that one day, I would live in Tuvalu. I never really thought I would have a chance of making my dream come true, but option three made it happen.

I spent the day making arrangements. I sold my Jeep, arranged for a shipping container and made the rounds of the furniture stores, hired a company to pack the container, stowed the shit I wouldn't immediately need, including a cedar chest containing some unaccounted-for money and my weapons, and the next day I was flying the friendly skies for my new island home.

*****

Tuvalu was everything I expected. I was booked into the Warmasiri Lodge, and it was as quaint and beautiful as my dreams. Most people spoke English, and I settled in. It was going to take three weeks for my container to arrive, and I just did tourist shit, lounging on the beach, checking out what Funafuti had to offer. It wasn't much, but I liked the pace of the place: relaxed, that was the word. I visited with a realtor and got a list of properties I could check, talked to an investment firm, opened an account at the National Bank and settled in for the long haul.

I wanted a job, not because I would need money, but because I liked working. I had been working in IT security, but I was tired of it. I had a PhD in philosophy, and I met some people at the university who were interested. If I landed the job, I could get a work visa, and buying property would put me in a position to gain citizenship. I never intended to go back to the US; this was my new home.

I had to talk to some people from other university campuses in the system, but the end was that they offered me an adjunct position. That was good, for the time being, and I applied for a visa. By the time I got that, my container had arrived, I put half my money in the bank, bought me a cute little beach bungalow and went native.

The only dark spot in my life was I had no social life, no friends. I decided to change that, so I went looking. I found one. She was a beautiful little brown Polynesian girl who worked in the university communications department, named Alola. She was... lush, big tiddies, curvy hips, and I would have described her as "dummy thicc" had we been back in the US. She had long flowing curly black hair, big brown eyes and she was just gorgeous. She was also as sweet as honey, and I knew when I met her, I was going to love her.

I was writing a piece for my classes on the university website when she came into the department office I was using. She introduced herself in this soft breathy voice with the cutest little accent.

"Hello, Ms. Blake. I'm Alola and I'm in communications. I was wondering if you thought you would be through today with your little biography?"

I stood up, towering over her like a giant, and gave her a hug. "Hey, Honey, I'm Kai, not 'Ms. Blake,' and I'm very glad to meet you. I'm almost through. Would you like a cup of coffee? You can sit here and talk to me while I write like 10 words."

It turned out she didn't drink coffee, but she did drink Coke. We got her one and it took me like two minutes to finish. We talked for another hour, and I invited her out for dinner Friday night. She accepted, gave me a hug, this time, before she left, and I was excited about having a new friend.

I met a lot of people that first week, most of whom I liked, but none as well as Alola. I talked to her every day and liked her better every time. I had found a restaurant I really liked, and I asked her if she would eat dinner with me there on Friday.

"Oh, yes, I'd love to," she said. "When do you want to meet?"

I gave her a time and we were set. I was already seated when she got there, and she looked adorable as the hostess led her to the booth. She had on a red sundress with white flowers, and it made her complexion pop. That dark hair and those big brown warm eyes were sparkling.

We had a great time, ate our dinner, which was delicious, and moved to the bar. We both had a nice buzz going, and I invited her back to my place. It was in walking distance, we strolled along, laughing together, and she held my hand.

We had too much to drink at my house and sparked up a blunt. She was very giggly and fun, and before we noticed it was 2 AM. I invited her to spend the night.

"Noo, I don't have any clean clothes, and no toothbrush or anything," she protested. "I should go home."

"No pressure, honey," I told her, "but I have new toothbrushes, big t-shirts for a nightgown, I'll feed you breakfast in the morning and maybe we could go to the beach in the afternoon. Please?"

She wasn't hard to persuade, and she went home to get swimwear just after we had a light lunch on Saturday. She was back in an hour, wearing a floral coverup and I was ready.

The beach was deserted, and we put down our blanket. She took off her coverup and she was smoking hot! She had on a red crocheted bikini, and it left little to the imagination. The weave was a little tighter over her nipples and crotch, but all that luscious brown skin was on display.

"Damn, girl, you are hot as fuck!" I told her.

She giggled a little and a pinkish blush suffused those dusky cheeks. "Thanks, Kai. I wish I was thinner, like you."

"Well, you look great," I told her. "I'd die for tiddies like that."

She cupped them in her hands and jiggled them at me, and we both laughed. We lounged around all afternoon, I made roll-ups for dinner and by the time she left, I knew I'd found someone special.

There aren't a lot of special people in the world. Most people are assholes, but she was one of the special ones. We hung out constantly, and I made sure I saw her at school when I went there.

I was feeling something. It was a little scary, a little exciting and a little mysterious to me. I realized that Alola was my friend. I mean, a real friend, someone I loved very much, and that scared me a little. I felt like I'd lost everyone I cared about like that, and the thought of losing her, too, was frightening.

I met her parents, and although they were a little sus of the tall blonde white girl from Arizona at first, they warmed up to me quickly. The thaw started when they learned I was teaching at the university, that I owned a house and was in the process of becoming a citizen.

Alola had a brother, Thomas, and he was there with his wife, Sarah, and their two girls the second time I visited. They were gorgeous little brown babies, and although they were shy with me, at first, when the youngest climbed up on my lap to feel my hair, I became part of the family. It felt good.

I never had a family. There was an aunt I had never met, but I grew up in the foster care system. I had some good foster parents, but it seemed like every time I got attached something happened, and I was shuttled off to a new set. Being part of Alola's large clan of relatives was pretty much my first exposure to that sort of extended connection.

I had started the divorce from Jason before I left the US, and it came through five months after I arrived in Tuvalu. That was my last connection to the US, or so I thought, and I was off to a new chapter in my life.

Alola and I went out for dinner, drinks or something at least twice a week. We went dancing a few times, and we were best friends. We told each other the story of our lives, I told her about college in the US, and she told me about graduating from the university where we worked,

I told her the story of Jason and the 18 months we were married, and she told me about the boyfriend she'd had all through school and how he left for Australia to work and never came back.

I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I told her about the money and how it came into my possession. "Oh, my God, Kai! I would have been too afraid to even get out of the car," she said. "Wow, you're like rich, though."

"Yeah, I'm going to be fine," I said. "I'll make enough teaching to live comfortably here. It did get me my house and a chance to move here, though. Plus, I got to meet you."

We were sitting on my sofa talking, and she snuggled up, pulling my arm over her shoulder. "I'm really glad," she said. "What do you think happened to all those guys?"

"It was a drug deal that went bad," I said. "I'm not sure exactly who was the buyer and who was the seller, but they just simultaneously decided to murder each other, I guess."

She shivered and I squeezed her. "I'm glad we don't have anything like that here," she said. "Kai, do you think anyone will ever find out you took the money?"

"I don't see how," I told her. "All those guys are dead, and no one else ever knew I was there." In that, I was overly optimistic.

*****

It took me six months to get my citizenship, and by that time the new semester had started and the university offered me an assistant professorship. I jumped on it and I now had an office, a secretary and Alola ate lunch with me every day, either in my office or we went somewhere.

It was 3 PM, my last class had been at 2, I had an hour of office time for my students and I was just shutting down to go home. My secretary buzzed me and told me I had a Mr. Brown there to see me.

I didn't know any Mr. Browns, and I asked her who he was and what he wanted. She said he was from the US Drug Enforcement Agency, and he needed to speak with me.

My heart did a flip-flop and beat wildly, but there was nothing to do but talk to the dude, so I told her to send him in.

Mr. Brown was... average. That's about all you could say. He was about six feet, my height, had brown hair and brown eyes, was a bit overweight and balding.

"Please sit down, Mr. Brown. May I see some identification?" I asked.

He showed me his official ID and took a seat in a chair in front of my desk. "What can I do for you today?" I asked. "I smoke a little weed, but this isn't the US and I'm afraid it's a little outside your jurisdiction."

He laughed. "Well, I'm not here to bust your chops about smoking weed," he said. "I'm looking for information."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I said. "I'm a citizen of Tuvalu, and have nothing to do with the US or the DEA, I'm afraid. In fact, I really have nothing to say to you, at all."

"Let me refresh your memory," he said. "You were a US citizen, living in Arizona, married to Jason Hayes. You stumbled across a drug buy. We know what happened, because one of the buyers was an undercover DEA agent with a Mexican cartel, and we recovered the information he recorded. The agent was killed."

"Well, that's all very interesting, I'm sure," I said. "Even if all that were true, I still have nothing to say to you. I'm sorry about your agent, by the way. Was there anything else?"

"We had a satellite covering the deal, Mrs. Hayes," he said. "We've identified your vehicle."

"How nice for you," I said. "Anything else?"

"We would like to know if anyone was alive, if anyone said anything, and we'd like to know what happened to the money," he said. "This is an official investigation and we'd like you to return to the US and answer some questions that would help us in our investigation."

"I'd like to be appointed US ambassador to Tuvalu," I said. "Do you think you can make that happen?"