On the Run

“Sure, Vicky, we’ll put you in our saver’s plus and checking choice package. That way, you’ll get an unlimited number of free checks if your combined account balance remains above $5,000, and our best available interest rate on your savings. How much were you planning on opening an account with?”

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” I smiled sweetly.

A long pause. Brian looked around for a more senior officer, but the few that remained at their desks were all with other clients. He straightened his tie and played with the stack of papers on his desk.

“Something wrong?” I asked him.

“No, no…not at all. It’s just that…excuse me, Miss Ross, let’s get started on your application.”

I couldn’t resist teasing him. “What happened to Vicky?”

“Nothing, Miss Vicky…I mean, Miss Ross…I mean Vicky.” Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead. “It’s just that…I mean….”

“Haven’t you ever met a rich girl before?”

That broke the ice, and he laughed with relief. “No, Vicky. Not as pretty as you are, anyway.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. How did girls laugh? I tried to giggle and it came out all right. “I declare, I think you’re after my money, Mister Robbins.”

Brian blushed and pushed the first form across the desk to me. “If you’ll just complete the spaces that I’ve highlighted in yellow, we can get your account opened this evening.”

Those were the words I wanted to hear. I had practiced writing in a girlish hand for hours in my motel room, and I methodically began filling out the forms, inserting false information about my name, place and date of birth, previous address (the same bogus address I had used to get my driver’s license) and previous employment. I was later to learn that each of these little fabrications was a separate felony, punishable by five years in a federal prison.