Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

Mike said.

Donald looked at the keys in his hand, then back at the line of men. He took two slow steps backward, his boots sliding on the wet stones.

“This is none of your business,” Donald said, his voice dropping as he turned toward his silver sedan.

He got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The engine started, and the red taillights of Donald’s continue reading …