It’s Happening
We walked into the coffee shop together, and of course I tripped over the threshold. Dang it. I knew Dale would chew me out for that. He shot me a look as his hand went to his inside jacket pocket. Sunlight glinted off his new, red watch as he moved. I squinted at the face of it, struggling to read the hands. We were only about ten or fifteen minutes behind schedule. Not too shabby for me. Not too great for Dale.
I locked eyes with him again, waiting for his signal. Within moments, he narrowed his eyes and mouthed it: Now. “Nobody move!” I yelled, as we both drew our guns. The coffee shop erupted in screams as Dale fired a warning shot into the ceiling. A lightbulb shattered over our heads. I tried to stay focused but was overwhelmed by Panic! You know, the band, like at the Disco? Their latest single was still playing from the speakers, providing a nice background.
“Hello? Hello?” I heard Dale shout at me. I jolted myself out of my reverie and turned to him. “There you are,” he sniped. “Where did you just go? You’re supposed to have my back!”
“Go?” I replied, surprised by his obliviousness to the music. It was hot outside, and air conditioned in here. Of course I relaxed when we walked in. He thought I could stay focused?
“Nowhere,” I responded honestly.
“Well then follow the plan! Shoot a friggin barista! You think we’ve got all day?”
I shot. A body crumpled.
Dale groaned. “God, you’re useless.” He sat down heavily on a recently vacated chair and smacked his head against the table with an audible thud. Dark strands of curly hair dunked into a cup of coffee.
“Anaise,” I said, “your hair’s in that coffee.”
“What?” she exclaimed, looking up fast. “Oh, perfect.” She tried using her fingers to squeeze the coffee out of her silky blond ponytail, but it just got all over her hands too. I handed her a napkin. She took it without a thank you and made even more of a mess with sticky bits of napkin clinging to her hair and cherry red watch band. Throwing the soggy remains of the napkin onto the floor, she whirled on me with a venomous glare.
“So are you going to shoot that barista or just stand here looking like an idiot? If you’re not helping with my hair, then help with the heist. I need to get to the register!”
So I shot. And a body crumpled.
“Where’d you get that napkin from anyway?” she asked. “Food courts never have them.”
I looked around at the storefronts, considering the answer to that question. Why did it smell like coffee? I looked back at Anaise, standing in a puddle of spilled Diet Coke, and shrugged. “I always carry napkins in my pockets. You know, car keys, wallet, napkins. They seem to come in handy.” Speaking of which, my back jeans pocket felt kinda light. I reached in and felt for my keys and wallet. The wallet was definitely there, but the keys….
“Why don’t you just drop the gun too so you can make sure we don’t get out of here alive?” Jay sneered, snatching up my lanyard and keys from the ground beside him. His watch caught the light, momentarily blinding me. My keys were sticky. Ugh, malls are disgusting.
I stuck the keys in my back pocket. “Don’t worry about my gun. I’ve got your back.”
“Well then follow the plan,” Jay ordered, gesturing at the kiosk. “I told you to shoot the person closest to the register, and what have you done so far? Nothing.”
I shot. A body crumpled.
“Happy now?” I snapped.
Jay sighed deeply and stared up at the ceiling like the 7/11 might cave in on us at any moment. “You make my life such a pain. Just watch the door while I get the cash.”
“Hey,” I grumbled defensively. “I’m doing my best. Your plans are too complicated, Chandra.” I gave her a look before turning my attention to the door.
“Right now, that cash is in the register, not in my hands,” Chandra pointed out, as if I didn’t know. “That means you’re not doing your job.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” I retorted, whirling on her. I checked my watch for the time. I had a feeling that if I looked at hers, it would assault my eyes. I had to shift my keys to the hand holding the gun to get a good look at my wrist. I hated wearing basketball shorts for the sole reason that they didn’t have back pockets. Having to physically hold my stuff was absurdly annoying. Not to mention, a hazard. It was a wonder I hadn’t accidentally shot anyone yet the way I was balancing this gun with the keys.
“Just do your job,” Harry snarled at me. “It’s not difficult.” I don’t know why he was so insistent on tearing me down at every opportunity. As if he had a whole line of people waiting to play sidekick for him. Speaking of which, I realized I’d never been to a Starbucks without a line at the counter before. What an opportunity. Best to take advantage of it.
“You know what, I’m just going to order a drink,” I said calmly, trying to defuse the tension. Harry groaned again and turned around, gun trained on the frightened customers on the floor. As he moved, that watch flashed light into the eyes of our hostages. I watched them squint fearfully. I went up to the counter and mumbled my order at the barista. Took her a second to regain the power of speech, but eventually, she took the order and asked for my name. I told her it was Paris. I like lying to baristas. They never even know it’s happening.
“What’d you order?” Harry asked, when I walked back over to him.
“Hot chocolate,” I said. “It’s cold outside.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” he agreed. But he fiddled with his watch like he was nervous. “It’s been freezing all week, but that doesn’t matter. Now are you going to stand there waiting on your drink to be ready, or are you going to shoot that barista like we planned?”
I shot. A body crumpled.
“Latte for Tokyo! I have a latte for Tokyo!” It took me a second to remember that that was the name I’d given her. I went and got my drink. I looked at the scribbled Venice on the disposable cup and grinned. I love lying to baristas. They never even know it’s happening.
“You told them your name was Chicago? And they bought that?” Chandra eyed my cup with disdain, clearly disapproving of my life choices. Honestly, had anyone else given me that look, I would have been fine with that, but for this chick in yoga pants to judge my Starbucks lifestyle was just a little too much. Like that fancy watch made her better than me somehow.
“You got a problem with me?” I asked.
She flipped her hair. “I don’t got a problem with you as long as you do your job. I don’t care what you tell that barista as long as you shoot her, you fool. Remember the plan?”
I probably should have walked away then, but sometimes, you just get caught up in the moment. Jay had one of those strong personalities. Hard to say no to.
So I shot. A body crumpled.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. He rolled his eyes back into his skull and stalked away from me, watch flashing in the sun. Ridiculous. Had no one ever taught him manners? Not to mention, who refuses a free drink? Ugh. Whatever. Guess he was just focused on the robbery.
After a minute, he ambled back in my direction, looking apologetic for once. “Look, man,” he said. “Don’t know what really got into me. I know you’re just trying to do your job. But we’ve got to stick to the plan. Otherwise, you’re just making this hella hard for me.”
“I’m making this hard for you?” I laughed, wondering when Anaise had become so delusional. Like robbing a coffee shop was supposed to be easy. Honestly, I didn’t have time for this. Every time she made a plan, it went like this. We were going to get caught if we didn’t get out of here. I glanced at the clock on the wall, but it was too busy melting to show me the time. Darn that Dali. Regardless, the sun was already setting. Time to get out of this convenience store.
“Are you okay?” Anaise said with annoyance, trying to return my attention to her. She waved the hand with the watch at me. “You’re so distracted. You just don’t seem, like… stable.”
“Stable?” I parroted back. I wasn’t in the mood for this. We really had to get out of here.
“Yeah, you seem shifty,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at me. I scoffed, but she held her gaze steady. I had to respond.
“I seem shifty?” I repeated again, incredulously. Why was she stalling?
“Oh my God,” Dale hissed at me. “There’s something wrong with you. Get that checked out, and figure out what’s happening.” Without another word, he glanced at his watch and then walked out of the coffee shop. Right as the sirens arrived.
I stood there, defeated, excessively aware of the clock ticking time to Panic!’s “Nine in the Afternoon” on the speakers. Dale actually screwed me over this time. What a friggin fantastic day. Goddamn it, I hate when he coerces me into these heists just to throw me under the bus. I never even know it’s happening.
