1. LEO

Rich men were easy targets. They were usually busy on their phones, acting like they were the only people around. Often, I heard them talking about money and stocks. To be fair, I did most of my work outside some of the financial buildings.

These men were far too distracted to notice as I unclipped their fancy watches and slipped them off their wrists. Or when I dipped two fingers into a pocket to fish out their wallets. I had years of experience pickpocketing, but I only did it to people I knew could afford it. People who bragged about wealth. Even if I didn't hear them, I saw it on their faces, in their clothes, and how they smelled.

Today's mark had been a man, smelling like a vanilla Yankee candle had smoked a pack of cigars. He was probably in his thirties, pre-occupied on his phone. He walked like someone who had always had money. It was effortless. The suit was tailored, not that ever had a tailored suit, but up close, you learn to tell the difference between cheap and expensive.

This man was expensive, and so was every other wealthy Mayfair man. I had no guilt, and not a single ounce of remorse for what I did. Besides, they didn't know it had happened until I was long gone down an alley, or across a road, or escaping into Hyde Park while I rummaged through their wallets.

My regular pawn shop, Platinum Pawn, just outside Chelsea, welcomed me with open arms. It wasn't like they were a reputable business. They had one window boarded with wood. It was sprayed with graffiti. It looked abandoned from the outside, unless you noticed the dim sign above the door flashing to say it was open.

"Derek," I said, walking into the shop.

A plump man sat behind a reinforced plastic window, a pair of magnifying glasses over his eyes. He pulled them away to look at me. "Leo," he grumbled. "I've already told ya. That last piece you brought in almost got me raided."

"Well," I snickered, holding up the fancy silver Rolex in front of him. "This one doesn't have an inscription on it. So, it's safe."

He grunted, pushing the counter slot open. "Let me see."

As I handed the Rolex over, I looked at the glass shelves in the pawnshop. They were filled with rings. None of it was what I'd pawned. He knew better. Everything I sold to Derek was stolen.

"I'll give you two grand," he said, clearing his throat.

"Two grand, c'mon, look at the condition of it," I said, placing my hands on the security partition before pushing my face to it. "It's in mint condition."

"Take it or leave it," he said, snapping his fingers at me. "And don't put your grubby fucking hands on the glass."

I rolled my eyes at him, pulling myself away. I tugged the sleeve of my jacket over a hand and buffed out the marks. "I'll take it, but this man was so oblivious. He didn't even know what happened. I should be paid more for my skill."

"You're not taking any of the risk," he said, glancing at me and shaking his head. "I won't be able to take anymore high-ticket items from you for a few weeks. I still have one to sell."

"Fine, fine."

Derek counted the money in twenty-pound notes before collecting them all together and sliding them under the slot on the counter. "I'm being serious, Leo," he said. "You need to cool it around here, at least for a few weeks."

I nodded back at him as I grabbed the stack of notes and gave them a count. Derek wouldn't short me, but I counted them anyway. "Yeah, yeah. A few weeks."

Stuffing the stack of notes into the depths of my pockets and zipping it shut. I felt like I'd done a solid day's work.

On the way home, I stopped by Tig's Chicken Shop to grab some lunch. Fried chicken and chicken salt chips were my favourite way to reward myself after a successful swipe. I also grabbed something for Susie, my friend, who I lived with. It was her father's council flat, but he passed a couple years ago, and she got to keep the flat. It was great because it was rent controlled, but it was in this huge block of flats covered in this piss-colour yellow and grey stone. They really made them look the most unappealing places to live.

Seeing the flats after being around the huge Georgian style townhouses and modern glass structures, it was depressing. But living in any of those places, you had to be making a high six-figure salary. And pickpocketing wasn't a salaried job.

I stood outside the front door of the building and checked the Little Me app on my phone. It was a location-based app for people who enjoyed roleplay, different dynamics, dressing up, and exploring. But most of the time, it was for hooking up. I rarely hooked up with anyone, but I always liked to scan the area to see if there was anyone around. Mostly faceless people. I was there, in my onesie, with my stuffed panda teddy tucked under an arm proudly. I got messages, and most of the time they were from blank profiles, so I never responded. I mostly used it to talk to other littles in the area and see where they were buying their onesies.

"Great, you're back," Susie greeted me as I walked through the front door. "I'm picking up another shift this evening, so I won't be in to do face masks and movies."

I held the white bag with the food inside. "I brought lunch."

She hurried into the kitchen, tying her hair up into a ponytail. "Please tell me you didn't."

"I didn't."

"Leo," she groaned. "I can see it on your face. All smug. Well?"

Unzipping my pocket, I dug a hand inside and grabbed out the wad of bills. "Two grand," I said. "I'm putting some in my savings, and then the rest is for bills." I knew she didn't approve of what I did, but she couldn't resist good fried chicken with the chicken salt chips.

"If you want a regular income, I can talk to my manager about getting you a trial shift," she said, batting her eyelids at me.

Susie worked in a coffee shop, but she was also an aspiring actress who wanted to work on the West End in the theatre. She also didn't complain when the money I'd made off the rich men in Mayfair afforded for our tickets to see those big musical productions.

I didn't even have to reply to her. She knew the answer, she always knew the answer. "Tomorrow night then?" I asked. "Movies and face masks."

"Yes, oh—wait, maybe. You know Harry asked me out on a date, right?" She dug into the box of chicken. "Well, he said he'll text me with the details, so I'm waiting to know what he wants to do. I mean, I don't even know why I care. He asked me on a date."

"While you wait on that text, I'm gonna go eat, take a nap, and count my money," I said, bubbling over with excitement.

People always told me that money wouldn't make me happy, because I never had money. My mother worked two jobs to take care of me, so I grew up on the struggle bus. My father, or sperm donor, wasn't in the picture at all. Maybe I'd seen him once or twice, but that was it. And at sixteen, my mother kicked me out, something about not being paid enough to look after me. So, I knew money made people happy, with money, perspective changed, life changed, and I wanted that.

My room had a small dresser and a single bed. The walls were painted light blue, like I was looking at the sky on a clear day. I also had one poster pinned to it. It was a scratch-off map of the world. Because that was my plan. I wanted to have enough money saved so I could travel and see all the animals. So far, I'd seen bits of England, Wales, and Scotland, although I'm not sure if accidentally sleeping on the train and arriving at Glasgow counts as Scotland, but I was there once, so I scratched it off.

"One day," I said before tearing into the chicken from my box.

I saved almost ten thousand pounds, and my goal was thirty thousand. It was a huge goal to have, and it had taken me nearly two years to build to ten thousand. I was still confident I would one day reach it.

Inside a safe under the final drawer in my dresser, I kept everything important. Like my money, and the list of things I needed to travel, like a passport. There was also my list of animals I wanted to meet and maybe pet if they allowed me to.

I rarely got as lucky as I did today with the Rolex. Most of the time, it was cheaper, imitation jewellery, and Derek lowballed me at every chance. But I couldn't say no to those offers. He knew they were stolen, and he was still willing to buy them.

On my iPad, I put on a series I'd been watching on Netflix. It was background noise while I counted the money and cuddled up with my stuffed teddy, a panda I named Tuffy. I had him for over ten years, won him at a carnival when I was little. It was my dream to go visit the big panda sanctuary in China.

After counting the money in the safe, and adding in some from today's haul, I was just over eleven thousand. I didn't put it all in. I needed to live, of course.

I grabbed the man's wallet. There hadn't been any money in it when I'd checked.

It felt expensive, alligator skin, probably. All his credit and debit cards were metal. That's how I knew he was rich. He'd have them replaced easily. And inside, where money would go, I discovered a key. It looked too small to be a house key, but I wasn't worried about that. Whatever it was for, I was sure they had several other keys just like it.

‘S Maxwell.' The name on the cards. There was even a business card for a Maxwell Holdings which sounded incredibly rich and fancy. He clearly had all the money in the world. I threw his wallet into the safe with everything else.

Cleaning my hands with alcohol wipes, I dug back into the box to eat the cold chips.

I cuddled Tuffy as we both watched the Netflix show. I dreamed of one day having my own, but instead of a comedy, it would be a travel show where I was paid to visit all the different countries and live out my dream. And of course, I'd have a giant estate of land where I could house rescue animals too.

But that's what it was, a dream, and I was heading for a nap to continue it.