“I started with strangers—lifting, stealing. I never hit anyone or threw them down. Women at grocery stores in the ‘burbs, man. They leave their purses in that top part of the cart and walk away. I hung out in different grocery stores morning ‘til night and made bank. The bigger stores. No one fingered me. I was the fucking Artful Dodger, going into handbags all damned day, lifting the wallets, snatching a five, a ten, or a twenty, then dropping the wallet, so they always got back to their rightful owner. Honorable, huh?”
The question was rhetorical.
“Now, I guard them. I fucking watch like a hawk from my section of the store, at least, for anyone like me who might rip someone off. Now, I’m Superman.”
Finn actually traced an S onto my chest. I wasn’t even sure he knew he’d done it. Neither one of us acknowledged it out loud.
“I pegged a couple dudes,” I said, “and a girl one time, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup. I, uh, recognized the why in her and walked her over to the addiction center.”