Counterfeit

Aaron takes a seat at the minimalist, no-frills hotel bar. That’s how the receptionist who checked him described it anyway. Aaron has a different interpretation.

“What a dump,” he says to himself as he looks over the menu and sees he’ll be choosing between Blue Moon or Michelob Ultra. Aaron, of course, has never stayed at this particular Marriott. Hardly ever a reason to stay at a hotel when your parents live two miles away. But a high school reunion, and all the belligerent fun that comes with it? That’s as good a reason as any. He booked a one-night stay and told his folks he’d visit them next month.

"The big A dog! What's up, Papi! Boy, do I have a surprise for you!"

It’s the voice of Max, Aaron’s best friend since they were four years old, and the one guy Aaron wanted to meet up with before walking three blocks over to the reunion venue. But it seems Max has taken it upon himself to bring along at least another half dozen people Aaron hasn’t spoken to since the Obama Administration.

"Maxie, what the fuck is this? Why are you fucking with me? Don't fuck with me today, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Oh no, my friend, why would I stop today of all days?"

"Dude, I flew in five hours ago, I'm tired, I’m jetlagged, I'm in no mood."

"Awww, the big A is jetlagged, poor bubsy wubsy. Wait right here, you're going to flip!"

Max dives into the horde of people he’s brought with him, eventually emerging with Cecilia. Well, fuck.

"Cecilia, oh my god, how long has it been?" says Aaron as he hugs her.

"Yeah, 10 years Aaron, it's been 10 years," she responds.

"Yeah, well, you know..."

"Hey! Look at me, reuniting the prom king and queen! Before the reunion even starts!" Max chimes in. The little fuck.

"That was a long time ago," Cecilia responds.

What do you say to your high school sweetheart after not having talked to her for the past 10 years?

"Why don't I get us a round?" says Aaron, looking to diffuse the tension.

"Great idea A-man. Hey everyone! First round's on Aaron!" Max yells to his minions.

They rejoice. Aaron, not looking to give an inch, buys 8 drinks at the bar.

"That'll be $62."Aaron, beside himself over the cost, reaches into his pockets and finds four twenties in one hand and a hundred-dollar bill in the other. With Cecilia watching, he decides to go with the hundred.

"I'll take a 20 back."

The bartender looks the bill over with a sly eye and then heads into the back. Cecilia and Max have returned to the group as Aaron waits for his change. It’s taking a lot longer than he would expect, but considering the conversation with his old high school flame that’s awaiting him, he’s not complaining one bit.

That is, until two rather large men in black suits come up behind him.

"We need to speak with you," says one of the suits.

"About what?"

"The $100 you gave the bar was a counterfeit; we need to speak with you."

"A what?"

"A fake bill, come with us."

Before Aaron knows it, he’s been ushered back to a meeting room.

"I don't know what you guys are hinting at, but my bill is real, I got it from an ATM yesterday."

"It failed the stripe test. It's a fake."

"Take it up with Citibank."

"Your last name is Capone, yes?"

"Yes, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Did you not post on social media yesterday saying you were going to use counterfeit bills in the near future?"

"...What...how could you possibly know that...I was joking with my friends! Come on guys, it's a real hundred."

"You can see why this would raise suspicion? First, you post, then your hundred fails the stripe test. You can see why the authorities need to be involved."

"The authorities! You have to be out of your mind!"

"We'll see, stay here."

With that, the two suits leave. Aaron remains in the room in disbelief. Did he send that post? Sure, just joking around with his friends. But why? Why is stupidity his sense of humor? Instead of traveling to his high school reunion, he might be traveling to a jail cell.

The door opens, and in walks Max with a million-dollar smile on his face.

"The big A man, the mobster, the gangster, trying to pull the wool over the Marriott in his own hometown, no less! The legend!"

"What the fuck are you doing, Maxie?"

"My best friend is getting arrested for a fake bill and what, I'm supposed to sit it out like a pleb? There are moments in life, my friend, that you simply can't afford to miss. This is one of those moments."

"Get outta here, Maxie, you're gonna get into trouble too."

"Haaa! Trouble! And what, let you walk out of here alone in handcuffs like a gangster?! Naw, you're not taking that from me, no sir!"

"Dude, this is real shit, I don't know what could happen here."

"Let's find out together, A man," Max cackles as he sits down next to his closest friend. "Cecilia still brings the heat, baby, 119 miles per hour," says Max.

"Yeah."

"How'd you fuck that up anyway?"

"I didn't fuck it up, it was high school! What am I supposed to do, be with one girl my whole life? I didn't want that."

"So you just bailed?"

"I went to college, she went to college, I could've called her a million times, but for what? We couldn't really be friends. So I moved on, and she moved on. It is what it is."

"It's fucked up, A man, it's fucked up."

"It is what it is."

The door reopens, and the two suits walk back in.

"Who are you?" asks the suit.

"I'm his lawyer," replies Max.

"Dude," says Aaron.

"Shut the fuck up, let me handle this," replies Max. "What's the charge here?"

"We're getting a second test on the bill."

"Do you have proof that it was a fake?"

"It failed the stripe test."

"It could be a new bill, you could have a bad marker, a million other things could go wrong. Do you have any proof?"

"We're working on it."

"You do that, take all the time you need, but me and my client are leaving this room to go to our reunion. Unless you have a warrant or a charge of some kind."

"We can't let you do that."

"Listen, what I think is happening here is you guys got word that a guy with the last name Capone was going to be at this establishment and that is all you needed. Except having a certain last name is not a crime, or every Italian in this country would be behind bars. What it is is discrimination and that's illegal. You are a place of business and if you don't let us go right this very second, I will bring a lawsuit so large to you and Marriott that your grandchildren will still be footing the bill. Capisce?"

The suits stay silent.

"Capisce, then. Let's go, Aaron."

"What?"

"You heard me, let's go."

The two of them get out of their seats and walk confidently out of the room.

"You haven't even passed the bar yet!" Aaron says as they re-enter the lobby.

"Shit, they don't know that!" Max flashes his million-dollar smile. He wastes no time. "Let’s get out of here. But before we do… Hey everyone! Capone's packing counterfeit bills!" he yells loud enough so the whole lobby can hear it. Aaron can't help but smile.