“Close one, boss,” Pete said.
“Yeah, but it was worth it.” From inside his jacket, he produced a pear-shaped diamond as wide and thick as his thumb.
Pete whistled.
“Slippery, though,” Max said. “Dropped it in the store. Took a minute to find it in the broken gla—whoops!” Max fished around on the floor with his hands. “Dropped it again.”
Pete glanced to see what Max was doing, realized he was veering into oncoming traffic. He swerved back over the line as a Buick laid on the horn.
Max twisted off the seat, into the passenger footwell, legs sprawling across the van. He saw the diamond by the central console. He grabbed for it, but it skittered away.
“Careful!” Pete shouted as Max tried to hook the diamond with his feet. He had himself half onto his seat, but his right foot bumped Pete’s on the accelerator. Pete hit the brake and they fishtailed, slammed into a curbside tree.
Max flew through the windshield, glass shredding his clothes, scattering diamonds everywhere. Pete pulled himself off the steering wheel, nose bloody. He picked up the wayward diamond as a motorcycle policeman arrived.
“Well,” the policeman said, “what have we here?”
Pete looked from diamond to cop. “Whoops.”
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