They’ve got it. Their hearts flutter and their breath is shallow as they hustle quickly down the steep hills of Montmartre. Trying desperately not to draw too much attention to themselves, they make no eye contact with the surrounding strangers – anyone could be after them. “Trust no one,” they had said before embarking on the job of their lifetimes. But could they even trust each other? It dawned on both of them that they truly didn’t know. Having not seen each other in years, the old partners in crime had come back together for one final heist.
Memories of past jobs once again felt fresh in their mind. All they knew in that moment however, were the risks involved and the reward if they were successful – and they wanted it. They wanted the contents of that small briefcase more than either of them could express.
But they cannot dwell on their daydreams. They aren’t in the clear yet, and every second is crucial in their escape. Soon, someone will notice what’s missing, and the police will be hot on their tail – if they aren’t already. But as far as the two thieves are concerned, the chase is on, and they must make their next move.
Step one: shed their shadowy attire. The pair frantically move from street to street, desperately trying to reach their hidden stash, far away from prying eyes. They won’t be safe until they are both unrecognizable, and right now, they aren’t exactly inconspicuous.
There it is! The narrow alley, almost invisible unless searched for, appears before them as they round the corner. The promise of temporary refuge beckons the pair to quicken their steps down the tight passageway until they reach the door with the broken lock. Will the room beyond the door be empty? They have no idea, but they have no time to care.
He ducks in first, finding the room temporarily abandoned. It’s their lucky day. He takes the opportunity to shed his dark apparel for a light vest and a crisp white polo. Perfectly touristy. He moves with the swiftness and ease that has come with years of practice, and tosses the old clothes in a trash bin toward the back of the room. There’s no time to waste.
She enters next. While keeping watch, he plucks a cigarette from his pack, placing it behind his ear for later. He sighs impatiently, clutching their stolen treasure and keeping an eye out for nosy tourists or worse – the police. She finally emerges from the room. Always on the lookout, she glances around while pulling on a cropped jacket to complete her disguise.
Their hearts race as they make their way out of the alley. Civilians fill the streets, casually moving between cafes and boutiques, laughing, enjoying their days. Meanwhile, the thieves attempt to maintain composure. He can’t take the pressure: he needs a cigarette. He’s been out of the game for a while, and it’s getting to his head.
“We can’t stop,” she reasons. This is what screwed them over last time and nearly put the two in jail. It was a little over five years ago when they almost pulled off one of the most impressive heists Europe had ever seen. At a critical moment, however, when both of them needed to forge ahead, he became paralyzed by his own fears and reservations about the plan.
Just a few seconds of hesitation allowed the authorities to catch up with them, and they had no choice but to abandon their prize. More importantly, they were forced to end their own relationship. The split was her idea. In her frustration, she slyly insisted that the two must eliminate any inkling within the minds of the police that the two were co-conspirators. Even though he knew she was right, he did not understand how she could callously throw years of partnership out the window.
The sound of his voice insisting yet again for a cigarette, jolts her back into reality. Although she is hesitant, she finds a place in her heart to trust him and gives into his request. They turn down a narrow cobblestone road. Pulling the cigarette from behind his ear, he sits on a post outside a cafe: La Maison Rose.
It takes several anxious flicks of his lighter before the end of the cigarette catches flame. As she stands behind him, gripping the leather briefcase tighter and tighter with each passing moment, his thoughts spiral. His mind racing now more than ever, he not only worries about losing the precious contents within the bag, but losing her to his mistakes once again. To the naked eye, they’re just tourists, enjoying the scenery and stopping for a quick smoke.
He assures her that they aren’t being followed. Surely they had been lost by any potential pursuers in the bustling crowds pumping through the Montmartre streets. They’re safe now; they have to be. Feeling slightly more confident in their potential success, the pair disappear down a road to retire for the night.
A day has gone by, and no news of a robbery. They’ve done it. They’ve restored their faith in their skills as professional criminals, and their faith in each other. The pair don their finest attire and make their way back out into Montmartre. They find a quiet cafe to celebrate their victory, and set their life’s work held within the mahogany leather bag on the table beside them.
“To us,” she says, clinking glasses with her once again former partner.
With the potential of being caught seemingly far from becoming a reality, the two are now anxious to have the moment of gratification that they were robbed of five years ago. She pulls gently on the flap of the bag, separating the magnet. They smirk at each other, thrilled with their success and eager to behold its beauty once again. She reaches in and pulls out the item, revealing a golden brown Parisian baguette.
Roles
Stella: Creative director/photographer
Dahlia: Model/stylist
Oriol: Model/stylist
Nia: Writer
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