Pocketbook For Men Novels & Stories

He arrived on Monday with one bag. It was the same bag he had carried since he was nineteen, a black duffel with a broken zip on the front pocket that he had fixed with a safety pin three years ago and never replaced. It held everything that mattered: three changes of clothes, his training gear, the burner phone, a charger, his father's folder in a waterproof sleeve at the bottom beneath everything else, and the flash drive in the inner pocket that he kept zipped even when everything else was open.

"Take it off and we'll—" "Mama look at my pockets!" Liam came around the corner of the changing room area at speed, wearing a dark navy coat with his hands shoved into the pockets and his gray eyes bright with the specific triumph of someone who has found exactly what they required, and he stopped in front of her and demonstrated the pockets by producing from one of them a small paperback he had apparently been carrying in his jacket the entire morning. "See?" he said. "It fits." "I see," she said. "That's perfect. Take it off and—"

I muttered under my breath, glancing toward the hallway. Still no Damon. I chewed the inside of my cheek. The sound wasn’t just annoying anymore, it was drawing glances. The couple across from us looked over, the man’s frown deepening. Beep. I reached forward and touched the bag. Hesitated. My fingers hovered over the zipper. It’s not my business. Beep. Except it was. I unzipped it with a flick. Inside: his wallet, keys, a crumpled receipt for petrol, a book titled Startups and Sharks, and nestled in the middle… a second phone.

"My lip balm, tissue and little cash." "I said your purse, not my pocket," he scoffed, feeling the weight of the things in his pocket. "They serve the same purpose. Keeping my things safe." "Lip balm. Why not lip gloss?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Do you plan on going all kissy kissy with-" "Shut up," Elena laughed, hitting him playfully. "Stop smiling at me like that!" "Mhm mhm," he hummed, the devilish smile not leaving his face. "For real though, why aren't you carrying those tiny purses you guys carry around."

“By the way, if anyone asks, this never happened.” “Got it,” I said. I peered into the drawer. It was mostly empty; just a couple of boxes containing some expensive jewelry and a designer watch. Far in the back, though, tucked right up against the wall, was a small leather pouch. I pulled the pouch out and opened it. It contained a few items—a platinum credit card. A checkbook that looked like it hadn’t been used in ages. The receipts for the other items in the drawer. But there was one folded up piece of paper that caught my eye.

his friend answered when he was done counting. "Are you fucking with us right now?" He glowered at me, "Do you think we're beggars?" "Look, guys," I said raising up my empty wallet to show them. "That's all I got." "You look expensive, there's got to be more," the guy with the money insisted. The third guy spotted my phone in my breast pocket and reached in to grab it. "Hey, don't!" I tried to collect it but he snatched it back, taking it away from my reach.

His eyes are full of anger and grief and exhaustion, and though he tries to hide it, I suspect he's barely holding on. I take his hand and squeeze it. "I just walked around for a bit." His fingers bounce against mine. He's almost jittery. And that's when I notice the strange rectangular shape in the pocket of his jeans. "What's that?" I ask. He looks almost ashamed. But he releases my hand and shifts in his seat so he can pull the mysterious item out of his pocket. It's a pack of cigarettes. "Grabbed them from over there while you were gone." He jerks his chin in the direction of a duty-free shop. "Don't worry - I'm not actually going to smoke them. I didn't even get a lighter. I just need t

Two down, one to go… The handsome passenger is tricky. Kate focuses all her world-building skills on him. He’s typing on his smartphone, which she imagines is a blue Galaxy A10; released just four months ago. He looks like he’s texting his girlfriend. Earlier, he took out his wallet, which was a Velcro trifold in denim color. It had one clear ID holder outside, on the right fold… “I know!” Kate suddenly cries out, snapping her eyes open and scaring Ms. Perfect.

“Sure! I’ll just fetch my pocket in my room.” He dashed back to his room. I waited on the couch, tapping my feet on the floor. He came back a few seconds and I noticed that there was a bump inside the pockets of his shorts. His purse might have a lot of coins. Jay would have two different money storage methods. A wallet where he puts his cards and bills, and a purse where he puts coins and smaller bills. Since we booked our house with dozens of groceries, he exchanges the coins he got into a bill. It’s a kind of saving up thing for him.

“We’ll just get paid and be, ah, on our way . . . ” “Fine, fine, calm the fuck down.” Yanking off his three-fingered paw, Pink Bunny jams a wrinkly hand into a hidden pouch in his costume’s chest. “Look, pizza people, you didn’t see any of this, okay? Total silence.” Neon-pink condoms, a chicken nugget, and a small bag of pills spill from the pocket as he roots around, his hand finally appearing with a moist wad of twenty-dollar bills. “Here. For your trouble.”