illicit funds • j cody

THREE

Okay but if you listen to this song while reading this chapter the vibe is so good. Also I made a Spotify playlist for this story that has everything from Springsteen to wu tang hope y'all like it!
https://open.spotify.com/user/4halison/playlist/6BiCbbqqILHZSOInL67Wka?si=4BVrZ1qTSSa3kiQ9c7LqZw
Also, should the title remain illicit funds or should I change it to dirty money?

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💸 I BEEN GETTIN DIRTY MONEY 💸

I really don't trust him. I have no idea what I'm even getting into tonight. He said to dress semi formal, so that's reassuring, at least we're going someplace decent. I put in my earrings and look myself over one last time in the mirror before going downstairs to wait.

He's going to embarrass himself if he tries to go somewhere nice, and I get an idea. We can just take one of my cars, we'll get to go in style, and I get to ease my worries by being in control again.

"Hey Dad!" I call out. I get an annoyed 'what' yelled from his study. "Can I drive the 911 tonight? It's been a week since the fight!" I hear him grumble a 'sure' and I grin as I race to the garage. I love driving the Porsche. It's flashy, but not as flashy as the Ferrari, and I like it that way.

Just as I drive out of the garage he pulls up the driveway. I can already see the look of confusion on his face. I step out of the Porsche with a wicked smile. I'm back in control. "Go park off to the side!" I call out, "I'm driving!" He does as he's told.

"Your dad's going to let you drive this?" He asks before getting in.

"Of course he is," I smirk, "we have insurance, get in," As soon as he closes his door, I blast down the drive. "So, where to?"

"I have a reservation at Sugarfish," he says as he tries to frantically buckle his seatbelt without looking frantic.

I nod approvingly, "I like it there."

"You clean up well," he remarks.

I blush slightly, "So do you."

Today he seems to be acting more casual, and his emotions don't seem entirely fake. It's comforting.

"How have you been healing? Your cheek looks better."

I shrug, "Ribs take time, so I just have to give them time."

Out of the corner of my eye I can see him staring at me, "They also require rest, which I'm sure you aren't doing."

I purse my lips, confused by his sudden concern, "Since when did you care so much about my health?"

He knows he's confusing me, and I think he enjoys it, "It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"You aren't a fucking gentleman," I scoff, "you steal shit for a living. The only criminals who are gentlemen are stock brokers, and even that's iffy," I turn up the music playing from my phone. Jordan Belfort plays. "And speaking of stock brokers," I chant the chorus, "I been gettin dirty money Jordan Belfort, stackin penny stocks while I'm flippin these birds..."

He bites his lip to hide his smile and shakes his head.

I turn the music down and laugh, "What? Am I not allowed to have fun or something?"

"I've just never seen this side of you," he smiles bigger than I've ever seen since I met him, and it's real.

"You'd better get used to it," I grin, "because this is me when I'm not fighting or in agonizing pain," I shrug, "which I suppose is pretty rare, but this is who I really am."