The first plan was simple. It started with Derek and Brad slumped around the break room table, sweat dripping from their bodies. “All the money these jerks are making,” Derek groaned, “you’d think they could afford air-conditioning.” Brad smirked. “Dude, we’re pulling third world wages and you’re complaining about heat? This place is a joke.” Brad shoved both hands up his Insane Clown Posse t-shirt, then flapped it for ventilation. “It doesn’t have to be that way, you know?” “What do you mean?” Derek leaned in closer. “So, I’m talking to Trina the other day, right? And she tells me about how the place got robbed last summer. Guy comes in right after closing, wearing a mask. Pulls a gun on her — you know her, right? Trina, the girl who...
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