Money, It’s A Gas

My instincts told me otherwise, but I hoped that would be the last I’d see of Alberto.  I decided surveillance was in order.  He said he was in the import business.  I had my suspicions.  After watching his house for a few weeks, and observing the people who came and went, I was sure.  

Alberto was a drug dealer.  And probably a successful one.  Not that he was living extravagantly.  It was just my gut feeling.  Everything about him screamed money.

I filed that away for future reference.  We were focused on robbing banks.  We were on a winning streak, and the adrenaline rush was addictive.  Later it would occur to me, we’d made the same mistake almost every criminal makes.  We had begun to take success for granted.  That is always when something jumps up and grabs you.

Barbie was with the teller.  As always, I was in the parking lot, watching.  The jacket Barbie wore had several tiny cameras sewn into the fabric, pointing in different directions.  Skype is a useful tool for criminals.  While the teller was filling the purse, a security guard noticed.  I saw him moving toward Barbie.  I jumped out of the car with the shotgun and began running.

By the time I got through the door, the guard had his gun pointed at Barbie.  She looked terrified and had her hands up.  I aimed at the ceiling above the guard’s head and pulled the trigger.  Fragments of the ceiling covered his uniform like snow.  When he turned toward me, the shotgun was pointed at his chest.  I yelled, “Drop your weapon now or bleed to death on the floor!”

Having a double barrel shotgun pointed at you must be pretty intimidating.  Particularly if your ears are ringing from the first shot and you can see the smoke coming out of one of the barrels.  He put down his gun.  Barbie grabbed it and we ran out.  We already heard sirens approaching.  

Sasha and Candy did what they could to slow down traffic.  Despite the fact that my heart rate must have been 190, we made it to the warehouse without getting caught.

We had a meeting when we got back to the house.  It didn’t take long to decide.  The fired shot had raised the stakes to an unacceptable level.  Law enforcement agencies would be looking for us even more seriously now.  

It was time to shut down our operation, leave town, and lay low for a while.  Tonight, we would pack.  Tomorrow, we’d load everything into the panel truck, and after the morning rush hour faded out, we’d take off for my father’s place in Nevada.  We’d strip down and dispose of the getaway car and the panel truck, then decide where to go for a much needed retreat.

We had the TV on while we packed.  We always checked to see if our heists made the news.  That night, we were the lead story.  The banner across the screen read Shotgun Fired During Girlzilla Robbery.  

The furniture was rented and none of us had that much stuff.  My tools were already in their boxes.  I finished packing before the other girls.  

It was nine o’clock.  I knew I should get some sleep, but the adrenaline was still pouring through me.  A few hours before, I’d discharged a weapon in a bank robbery.  I knew I’d aimed high.  The DA wouldn’t care and would go for attempted murder if we were caught.   Sleep didn’t feel like an option.

I looked out the window.  The lights were on at Alberto’s house.  I had never given him my number, but I had his.  I was aware that what I had on my mind was a bad idea.  I asked Barbie what she thought.

She said, “Josie, you’ve got that look in your eye.  After what you’ve been through today, you might as well just get it out of your system.”

I dialed the number.  I said, “It’s Jozefien.  I’m bored.  You want some company?”

When he opened the door, I held up my phone.  “Barbie is expecting me to message her every half hour.  If I don’t she’ll come looking.  She’s a lot meaner than I am.”

Alberto said, “That’s what I like about you, Jozefien.  I always know where I stand.”

Whether his persona was a front or not, it didn’t matter.  Unlike most men, Alberto didn’t piss me off continuously.  And he did a good job of distracting me from the days events.  After texting Barbie the code that meant “all okay” a couple of times, I sent a different code at 11 p.m.

I put the phone on the table.  I sat down next to Alberto and said, “I just let Barbie know I won’t be checking in anymore tonight.”

The next morning, I was alone when I woke up.  Immediately, I had the expected feeling of regret.  Then I took a few deep breaths and remembered everything that happened the day before.  Alberto was the least of my worries.  

It was 7 o’clock.  I needed to be on the road in a few hours.  I didn’t know where Alberto was.  I got dressed.  Maybe I could sneak out and not even have to say goodbye.

I opened the bedroom door, and was immediately hit with the smell of bacon and eggs.  Alberto was in the kitchen.  Not only would it be hard to sneak out without him seeing me, I was hungry.  I decided I had time for breakfast.

We ate and I realized I was in no hurry to leave.  It would be too much to say I liked Alberto.  I am a sociopath.  I did find him useful in a number of ways.  He was handy to have around when you were rotating tires.  He could cook a tasty breakfast.  And he was good at that other thing.  

Apparently, I was having an effect on him as well.  He was caught off guard when the doorbell rang.

He said, “Oh, excuse me.  I’m enjoying myself so much with you I’ve lost track of the time.  My employee Jonathan always brings my agenda by in the morning on his way to the office.”

I noted how smoothly Alberto lied to me.  I knew that “Jonathan” showed up almost every morning at this time.  I was pretty sure whatever he carried in his briefcase was not an agenda.

Alberto said, “I hope this does not sound rude.  I need to speak confidentially to Jonathan.  Would you mind waiting in the bedroom?  This will only take a few minutes.”

The house had an interesting feature.  The bathroom on that side of the house could be accessed by doors from both the master bedroom and the den.  After closing the bedroom door, I snuck into the bathroom as quietly as I could.  The light was off and the door to the den was open.  I crouched down, and held the mirror from my makeup compact out far enough so I could see the men sitting on the couch.

I heard them talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying.  That didn’t stop me from imagining what was in the bulky package Jonathan handed to Alberto.  And I’ve dealt with bundles of cash.  I recognized the outline in the large envelope Alberto gave him.  As usual, Jonathan was out the door in a few minutes.

Life is funny.  You can be successful for many years.  You can do things the right way, over and over.  All it takes is one tiny slip though, and you can blow it all.  That is what happened to Alberto, after Jonathan left.

He got up and walked to the wall across from me.  It was covered by a built-in bookcase.  He pulled a few books off of a shelf.  He had a keychain in his hand.  He reached into the case. I heard the click of a lock opening.  He pulled a section of bookcase out.  It was a door.  As it swung open, I could see a row of filing cabinets, the kind with thick walls that are very heavy and fireproof.  

I don’t think it was my imagination.  Large quantities of it has a distinct aroma.  When Alberto opened the bookcase door, the smell of money wafted across the den into the bathroom.

He pulled a drawer open and set the package inside.  Then closed it and the bookcase, and replaced the books.

I snuck back into the bedroom, and came out when he called my name.  I said, “I’d really like to stay, but I’m already behind schedule.  Me and the girls are going to be in Las Vegas for a few days.  I need to get a shower before we get on the road.”  I gave him a long kiss and told him I’d call when I got back.  He said, “I will miss you and I can’t wait to see you again.”

He wouldn’t have said that if he knew what would happen the next time I visited.

But first things first.  We needed to hightail out of town, dispose of the vehicles, and lay low for a while.  Sasha dropped me off at the warehouse and I drove the panel truck back to the house.  We loaded our suitcases and the tool chests behind the car.  We headed north on I-15 to my dad’s place in Henderson.  Just outside of Las Vegas.

Reviews

[William Richards]

Good job Serge, I enjoyed this piece of writing a lot. I like the idea of just girls being the criminals and you lay the foundations for the next chapters well.

[Serge Wlodarski]

Thanks William. I'm already thinking about a followup story that will pick up where this leaves off.