Charlie Huston - Caught Stealing

– I’ll tell you, Hank.Me and Paris are torn.

– How’s that?

Paris swivels around in his seat so he can look down and see me. It’s the first time I’ve seen his eyes. They look anxious.

– Well, what you did back there, that’s some pretty wicked shit.Very impressive.

– But?

Ed rubs the top of his head.

– Truth is,the smart play for us would be to just bump you and dump you.

Bud purrs, sleeping on my stomach, rising and falling with my breath. I scratch him behind the ears with my left hand.

– See, the heat on you is gonna be pretty fucking intense. Combine that with the heat on us and things could get sultry.

– Yeah?

– So, another option, we could just drop you off and let you do for yourself. Give you some scratch and shake hands.

– Fair enough.

– Sure, that’s fair enough, but is it the right play?The smart play? Follow?

– Sure, I follow.

I scratch Bud with my left hand. My right hand is tucked under his belly.

Ed looks at his brother and Paris nods.

– Thing is, people out of the life, they always talk about “honor among thieves.” But it ain’t really like that. See, honor ain’t much of an issue, but trust is. Trust is definitely an issue. Now, all this that just happened, this whole mess, it went down because of misplaced trust. Now, we never trusted Roman or his cronies, an’ least of all the fucking Russians.But Russ?Known him since we were kids. You bet we trusted him. When he went south on us? Well, color us shocked. But more than that, color us hurt.Deeply. Something like that happens an’ a man is likely to question things, things he thinks he can believe in. Questionhis own judgment. That’s bad. Lose trust in yourself, that’s the final blow. You follow?

– Sure.

I scratch Bud some more. I want to keep him mellow. I want to keep him mellow because I don’t want him to jump up. Because then Ed and Paris would see the gun tucked in my waistband. The gun my right hand is resting on.

– What I told you before, about having no past, no connections. No family. That’s all well and good, as far as it goes. But the truth is that it only goes so far. Me an’ Paris, we beat the odds more than our fair share. Know why?

– No.

– Because we are greater than the sum of our parts. That greatness comes out of three things: faith, love and trust.

He offers his hand to Paris.

– I love you, brother.

Paris takes the hand.

– I love you, Ed.

They unclasp hands and look at me.

– Roman, Bolo, Russ? Truth is,you didn’t kill those guys. They killed themselves.Them, the Russians, the Chink? They’d be alive an’ have the money, if only they could have trusted each other. Trust is a feeling, Hank. It’s something you feel for another person, like love or hate. It comes about because you see what a man does, who he is. A man does what he says he’s gonna do, values his friends, his family, an’ tries to do right by them? You can’t help but trust a man like that. You can’t help but feel trust for that man.A man like you.

He quits playing with his hat and puts it on.

– So your call. We can dump you here with a couple hundred grand for a job welldone, you can make a run, try to start over someplace. Take your chances with the Russians that way,cuz they’ll belookin ’ for all of us. Maybe you can go to the cops, try to spell it all out, take your chances with the truth. Get to see your mom an’ dad again that way. Or, come with us. Have a new life.A new family. Be trusted. An’ I think that maybe, that’s what might be best for you.Cuz the truth is, Hank, whoever you were a week ago, you’re not him anymore.

Really, it’s not as hard a choice to make as you might think. Because after all, he’s right, I’m not the man I was a week ago. I’m not half that man. I stop scratching Bud and uncurl the fingers of my right hand from around the pistol.

– I’m in.

They smile.Beautiful smiles, just beautiful. Ed reaches down and pats me on the knee.

– Cool, very cool. Paris?

– Cool.

– Allright. Hank, stay down on the floor in case they got something set up at the tunnel entrance. Once we get into Jersey it should be cool. We’ll head south, got something set up at a county airport down by A.C. Gonna take a trip. Sound good?

– Yeah.Yeah, that all sounds great.

– All right, let’s roll.

Paris starts the Caddie. Ed leans back in his seat.

– You know, Hank, we’re prettyfuckin ’ sorry about the way we did your girl like that. Truth is,we went a little hard. Roman did such a good jobmessin ’ you up andgettin ’ you scared, we felt we had to send a strong message so you wouldn’t miss the point. Fact is, when you didn’t call us right away, I thought we might not have gone hard enough. Anyway, we’ll make it up. An’ we appreciate youtakin ’ it like a pro. It’s always best not to let a twist get in the way of friendship. Cherchez la femme. Women alwaysfuckin ’ up a good thing.

I take Bud by the scruff of his neck and pull him off to the side. This is a fucked angle to be shooting from and the first bullet takes Ed high in his right shoulder, instead of his ear like I wanted. It throws him into the corner of the seat and I work on Paris before he can get the car moving. I can only see a sliver of his head, so I throw four rounds through the back of the seat where his body should be. His head flies forward, the car lurches twice, and the volume on the music goes through the roof. Ed starts stomping his cowboy boots down on my thighs, trying to stick his heel in my balls, but I get my knees up in the way. The bullet in his shoulder has killed his right arm and he’s trying to get at the gun in his shoulder holster with his left. I shoot him in the right thigh and he stops kicking at me. I raise the gun and shoot him in the stomach. Raise it again.And in the chest.Again. And the last bullet takes off his hat. I scramble and pull myself up and look into the front seat. Paris is sprawled, half on the seat and half in thefootwell. It looks like all four bullets hit, but it’s hard to be sure because his chest is so ripped up. He’s opening and closing his mouth.

– Ed? I’m hurt. Ed?

He dies.Without me having to shoot him again.

I drop the gun on the seat, reach forward, grab the keys from the ignition and hit the stop button on theboombox. Bud has crawled into his bag to hide. I zip him up and pull on the door handle. It’s the one that doesn’t open from the inside. I don’t think I can get past Ed’s body, so I crawl into the front seat and out the passenger’s-side door.

The Caddie is at an angle, half in the street. The rain has stopped. The street is empty for now. Down the block, a car alarm is sounding. I walk around the car and open the trunk. I’m thinking about the suitcases Ed and Paris put in the car back at the apartment. I’m thinking about clothes without blood on them. But there it is, right on top.A big fucking bag, full of money.

I open a suitcase and grab a few things and stuff them in with Bud. He tries to jump out, but I push him back in and zip up. I close the trunk and walk away.

I get about five feet before I go back and take all the money. Then I run as fast as the four and a half mil will let me.

I’m walking up Seventh Avenue, out in the open. I hide behind a Dumpster and strip off the bloody Yankees jacket and pull on a black sweatshirt that hangs on me like a sheet.Must have been Paris ’s.

I have no idea where to go next and this bag is fucking heavy. At James J. Walker Park, I see a homeless guy with a shopping cart loaded with garbage bags full of bottles and cans, along with the rest of his life and belongings. He’s sitting on a wet bench, trying to light a wet cigarette butt with a wet match. I sit at the opposite end of the bench. He glances at me,then goes back to the smoke. I dig around in my pockets. I gave all my hundreds to Billy, but I’ve still got a bunch of twenties. I pull out five and hold them out to the guy. He looks at them,then he looks at me.