By July, they had cleared three thousand dollars. They didn’t spend it on candy or video games. They bought a high-end drone.
"Twenty bucks or a fifty-dollar fine," Jax would say, leaning against a mailbox with a smirk. "Your call, Mr. Henderson."
The old Miller house at the end of the cul-de-sac wasn’t haunted, but it was lucrative. For Leo, Jax, and Chloe, it was the perfect "office." They had spent the summer perfecting a side hustle that lived in the gray area of neighborhood ethics: they were professional "inconvenience removers."
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