He held it out between us and rested it on the roof of my car.

“There’s ten thousand dollars in cash in this envelope,” Mark said.

“Clean, non-sequential hundred-dollar bills.

It’s yours right now, today, without waiting for bank clearing or legal delays.”

I looked at the white paper lying on the blue paint of the car roof.

“Where did ten thousand dollars in cash come from, Mark?” I asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Mark said, adjusting the knot of his tie with his thumb and forefinger.

“What matters is what it does for you.