Here's chapter two, which reveals a bit more of the plot.

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There was a knock on the door with a rhythm Steve knew could only have come from Frank. A moment later, Steve heard his friend’s voice.

“Yo, Stevie, let me in man! This 12-pack’s getting cold!”

“Don’t call me Stevie,” Steve impatiently responded as he yanked repeatedly on the door handle. The ancient door got stuck almost every time Steve slammed it, and this time was no exception. Finally, Steve pried the door open.

“Hey man, it’s ‘bout time! I was ‘bout to drink this twelver by myself,” Frank said as he walked straight in and lay down on Steve’s couch. A cloud of dust shot upward as Frank landed, causing him to choke a bit.

“Make yourself at home, Frank,” Steve said in exasperation as he slammed the door closed once again.

Frank cracked open a Vault and took a massive drink from it. “So, tell me ‘bout this job, dude. What’s goin’ down?”

As Steve sat down on his uncomfortable office chair, it was apparent that he was pondering the words that he’d be using soon. Finally, after about a minute of silence, he spoke. “Frank, we haven’t had a job in what; four years?”

“Are you for real? I never realized,” Frank said sarcastically.

Ignoring Frank, Steve continued. “I know we haven’t exactly been able to live comfortably after the fiasco that was our last job, and I’m sorry for that, but I think I may have something new lined up.”

“Hey man, it wasn’ your fault what went down. There’s no way you coulda known that intel wasn’t on the level.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders and continued. “Like I said over the phone, we’ve got a new potential job, and I think if we pull this one off right, we could make enough money that we’d never have to take another job.”

“Shoot! You got my interest, Stevie.”

Steve frowned. “Don’t call me Stevie,” he said in a slightly elevated tone.

Frank laughed. “Calm down, man. Here, take a Vault. It’s good for you, man.”

Steve happily accepted the Vault; he hadn’t been able to afford anything other than water to drink ever since their last job had ended so badly. He hadn’t been able to afford much of anything, for that matter; it was time for that to change. “Frank,” he said, “we’re going to rob the richest man on earth.”

Frank choked both on the huge drink of Vault in his mouth and on the massive dust cloud in the air. He swallowed the mixture of dirt and caffeine all at once, and immediately decided to inject logic into the situation. “Hey man,” he said, “We’ve been out of the biz for a while. What makes you think this job won’t end just like the last one?”

Steve smiled for the first time in months. “See for yourself,” he said as he handed Frank the newspaper article he’d clipped out earlier.

Frank looked at the paper, then back at Steve, who nodded and continued to smile. Frank looked back down at the paper and read it aloud. “Todd Reynolds, the CEO of MegaSoft, recently announced that his company would be releasing a major update to their popular operating system. Reynolds claims that this update will ‘revolutionize the way computers are used and bring about the next age of the PC.’ The update is scheduled to ship to stores worldwide on November 22nd, one month from the day this article was written. The update is said to include brand new security features and a beautiful new graphical user interface.” Frank looked up at Steve, confused.

Steve took the paper back and smiled again. “So, what do you think?”

Frank, for once, had nothing to say. He thought for a moment, confused. Finally, he responded. “I think you’ve lost it, man. I read that article, and I ain’t see no ‘job opportunities’ section.”

Steve chuckled. “My friend,” he said, “That operating system retails for over three hundred dollars per copy.”

Frank still looked confused. “I still don’ see any job, man. What’s up?”

Steve continued. “Do you know how many copies of the operating system a single truck carries?” He paused, apparently waiting for an answer. When Frank offered none, Steve continued. “One truck carries five hundred copies of the operating system. If we were to boost as few as ten trucks and sell each copy at a hundred dollar discount, we’d make one million dollars right there.”

Frank looked at Steve like he was stupid. “Stevie, I don’ want to seem like a jerk, but how are we gonn’ find ten trucks to jack?”

Steve frowned and continued. “First of all, don’t call me Stevie. Second, I don’t know where we can find ten. I do, however, know where we can find quite a few; maybe hundreds.” Steve took a huge drink of his Vault. “Are you in?”

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And there you have it. If you're still not sure whether or not you're interested, I'd ask you to at least try another chapter or two. Trust me when I say the action's going to get going soon, and it isn't going to stop until near the end.