Ocean's Twelve

The Chat

First Thursday, Thirteen days left...

"Now, you told me that your wife said that he called it Ocean's 11. Now, who decided that?" Frank asked Danny, gesturing wildly,"I'm a private contractor."

"It was a collaboration. That moniker is insulting," Livingston inputed.

"It was one job we did together. I don't know where this proprietary stance comes from. It seems possessive," Turk said in reply.

"One could argue that because it was Danny's idea..." Linus started.

Basher interuppted,"Hang on a minute, We all had our own areas of expertise. I mean, without us, it don't leave your head, mate."

Virgil spoke afterwards, with his fist to his forehead looking physically in pain,"It just hurts, you know, because it seemed we all agreed to call it 'the Benedict job.' That's what we called it when we were doing it," he carried on, Danny looking at his sister then Rusty with a slight smirk however Rusty wore a beaming smile out of amusement,"If you wanted to call it something else..."

Yet someone else interuppted, this someone being Linus,"Hey when you have a problem, who do you go to?"

"Emilia." Everyone chorused.

"Thanks Linus, now let's get back on the topic. Based on what we stole, plus interest...how much does everybody owe?"

"17.34 million dollars. Assuming Benedict gives us prime plus one, which I doubt," Reuben paused,"Figure nineteen to be safe."

"Okay, nineteen each. Anybody got that?"

"What, you think the stock market's some great mystery beyond the realm of human understanding? Didn't you see the signs?" Reuben looked lost in his own head,"I saw the signs." Emilia chuckled.

"How much is everybody short?" Danny turned to Turk,"How much you short?"

"Fourteen. Fourteen."

"All but five million?" His brother asked him.

"Yeah. You gonna start with me? You don't know what it's like to create something from scratch."

"Well, with interest, I'm short seven." Virgil told Danny:

"Eight," Frank added.

"I spent about a million," Linus began,"mostly on talent development. That makes it seven for me. Boy, the interest just kills you."

Basher looked from Emilia to Danny,"I'm light nine."

"What's the interest?" Livingston questioned.

"About six," Emilia replied.

"Then I owe six."

"How?"

"I've been staying at my parents.'"

"I owe twenty-five,"Rusty rubbed his hand over is shaved hair,"Hotels, man."

"Mils?" Danny asked the brunette.

"Short seven."