“Look left, look right, look left, look right.” He chanted, fingers slipping on the steering wheel.
Left… a young family turned the corner onto Milton Place. Right… three kids were grinding their boards on the benches in the park on Vine.
Jimmy’s eyes darted to the clock on the dash. Only three minutes since they’d gone in. His heart beat louder, in time with his glances. ‘Look left’ – thud, ‘look right’ – thump. With each second the action on the streets in front of him lost focus. His mind swam in the flood of stimuli. He saw only the blinking of the digital clock, heard only the quickened pace of his shallow breathing and felt only the sharp angles of the pistol concealed under his right thigh. His head started bobbing with each second.
“Everything’s cool. No problems,” he mumbled under his breath. He looked back and forth, struggling to focus. An old woman entered the corner market after tying her little dog to the lamp post. A mailman stopped at the box on Milton. “Just sitting here,” Jimmy hummed quietly. “Just sitting here, waiting for some friends.”
Four minutes. Still on schedule, Ray’s “master plan” as he’d called it. In and out, nice clean exit, everyone is happy, everyone is calm. “Eight minutes, tops,” he’d told them. “I’ve timed it, gone over it. Eight minutes and that’s if we’re all leisurely about it.” He’d brought Jimmy in first thing. “Opportunity is the key here, Jimmy. And we’ve got it by the truckload. You’re my wheel man, if you’re in.” That speech had come with several rounds of drinks and the unusual attention of Ray’s sister, Sharon. You could say what you want about a girl like that, but she sealed the deal.
Five minutes. Jimmy smiled, lost in the memory of her smell. She’d done things to him that he’d only read about. Where one second you think “where the hell did you learn that?” and the next second you didn’t care. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Oh man, oh man,” he whispered, shuddering when he thought of the moment she…
WHOOP! WHOOP!
The siren knocked Jimmy out of his daydream. His eyes widened and he straightened in the seat, the barrel of the pistol feeling harder than ever. A police cruiser stopped near the park entrance. Jimmy checked the time, six minutes. The cop in the passenger seat rolled down his window and yelled at the skaters. They milled about near the entrance. The cop raised his voice and opened the door. ‘Come on, come on, just clear out, dammit,’ Jimmy thought, rocking back and forth. The tallest boy pleaded his case. The first cop shouted, “you hear what I’m telling you, son?” while his partner exited the vehicle.
Jimmy glanced at the bank entrance. The alcove was clear. He shook his head. “Don’t come out now,” he mumbled. “Stay in there Ray, dammit, don’t come out now.” He turned back to the park in time to watch the trio skate off. Jimmy held his breath as the officers slowly walked back to the car. They stood, doors ajar, talking to each other over the roof. “Come on, mooove! Come on!” Seven minutes, now, and the black and white finally roared to life and the cops drove on, down Milton. He exhaled, but only after he could no longer hear that cop-engine whine.
“Alright, Ray, let’s get this the hell over with.”
Eight minutes. His ducked instinctively when he heard the first gunshot. He sat back up, staring at the entrance, half expecting to see Ray, and his cousin running out. There was nothing. Had anyone else heard that? It was recognizable enough to Jimmy, all keyed up and aware of the hidden proceedings inside the bank, but to anyone else… The few passers-by seemed oblivious, even the old lady’s dog hadn’t moved.
Who the hell was shooting anyway? “The guns are for intimidation purposes only,” Ray had reassured him that morning. “I probably won’t even load mine. It’s just to help the proceedings along.” The original plan was to just imply there were guns. But in this day and age, you needed to show the metal or they didn’t take you seriously. “I know this is hard for ya, Jimmy-boy. But all I’m asking for is ten minutes of your time. Ten minutes, to sit outside on a nice day. Can you give me that, just ten?” Jimmy agreed.
When the second gunshot came, clear and loud, Jimmy decided that nine was as good as ten, any day. He pulled slowly away from the curb, turning left onto Milton. He glanced back in time to see a bloody hand push open the glass door.
‘Opportunity is the key here,’ he thought and drove on.