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She hasn’t seen me yet, and that’s fine. She’ll see me soon enough. So I go to the bar and lean casually on it, waving fingers at the bartender… is it Chester? I’m pretty sure it is.
Chester sees me, and pulls a face. Aha. So, I’m on some kind of watch list now. He quickly scans the crowd, probably looking for Janie.
His eyes stop searching, though, and he pales as he stares at one of the patrons at the bar, a guy in a cheap suit and large sunglasses, and a bag that he’s laying quietly on the bar. Chester isn’t staring at the man’s face, or his suit, or even the bag, though — he’s staring at the handgun. The man’s lips move, he’s telling Chester not to make a scene, to fill the bag up with whatever cash is behind the bar. Even with a crowd this small, it’s likely thousands of dollars.
Careful not to draw too much attention, I approach the man. I don’t move too quickly, and I keep my hands in sight. He glances at me, freezes, and angles himself so he can train his gun on either Chester or me without moving too far. A professional, it looks like.
“Making a mistake,” I say to the robber.
“Shut up,” the man says. “Don’t fucking talk.”
Chester is taking the bag from the counter. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll get the money, all right? Just don’t… just don’t shoot. I’m getting the money, but I have to duck down here to get it, okay?”
The man’s lips twitch nervously, and he waves the gun a little. “Fine. Go, get it. I’m watching you.”
So are several other people now. They’re not moving, just watching. I can’t tell if Janie is or not. If this goes badly, she could be in real danger. But all I can do is what I need to.
“Man, listen to me,” I say. “This whole place is full of cameras. It’s a high-profile lounge. There’s no way you’ll get away with that cash very far. How much is it gonna be? Five, six thousand dollars? Is that worth the years they’ll put you away for?”
“Shut up,” the robber says, and twitches the gun toward me. “Just shut up. Don’t make me do anything I’m gonna regret.”
There she is. I can see Janie out of the corner of my eye. She’s storming toward us, furious. Maybe she doesn’t realize? I spare a look toward her, and our eyes meet. Slowly, I shake my head, and hold a hand out to stall her, then I point at the robber where he can’t see me but she can, and curl three fingers in to make a gun.
Janie freezes in her steps, and her gaze shifts to the man with the gun. From her angle she can’t see it, but she’s too smart to take chances like that.
I inch just a little closer, almost in arm’s reach now. “You don’t have to do this, guy,” I say, monotone, calm, careful not to set him off. “If you put that gun away, and leave now, no one will call the cops. Think about it — you get a second chance. Who gets that? I’ll go with you, and we can talk about what’s going on, what brought you to this point. I got a lot of money, okay? Maybe I can help. It would be better that way, wouldn’t it?”
“No,” the man says. “No, I don’t want your strings. It’s better this way. This place is hoppin’, every night. They’ll make it back. This is chump change. Don’t fucking move!”
He twitches the gun toward me further, now almost pointing it at me. Chester is frozen in place behind the bar, his eyes shut tight. He’s afraid. Genuinely terrified of being shot. And why not?
I’m not, though. I try to match the man’s breath, pace him as he breathes, both hands up and empty as I take another slow step forward. “Let me help you. What’s your name?”
“I’m not telling you my name,” the man says. “Forget it. Just… I just have to do this, okay?”
“Tell me why,” I urge him. “Come on. It’s all right; no one has called the cops. Tell me why you have to do this.”
He looks uncertain. His eyes are twitching back and forth, looking for some sign of danger maybe, and he licks his lips. He’s pale, and there’s sweat on his forehead.
“Come on, man; just tell me the story,” I say again. “We can just talk this out…” He’s frozen with indecision, and looks, for a moment, like he’s ready to give in. I reach for the barrel of the gun cautiously…
“No!” the man snaps. He tries to jerk the gun away before I can grab it, but I’m faster than him. I grab his wrist, and tug the point of the gun down, toward the floor where a stray bullet can’t hit anyone.
“Sorry about this,” I mutter, and snake a hand behind his neck before I twist and drop to one knee.
He goes over, dropping the gun on his way, and it clatters to the floor just before he does. I grab the gun the moment I let go of him, and he scrambles to his feet. One quick look around the room, and he’s off like a shot, across the lounge, shoving people out of the way and bolting through the door.
It’s over. I straighten up, smooth my slacks, and carefully lay the gun on the counter. Chester is staring at me, wide-eyed and with a hungry sort of look that I hope Janie will have when I see her.
That was too easy. And I know why. Because paying that guy to attempt rob this place and take a fall for me was about the only thing that would get me into her good graces again.
But it worries me that I’m turning into Reginald.
Janie
Every bone in my body tells me not to trust Jake Ferry when he approaches me from across the lounge, where he’s just talked down and then put down an armed robber, but all I can think about is that if anything had happened to Chester, or if someone in my restaurant was shot, it would be the end of everything.
So when he comes close, his dark eyes filled with what looks like genuine concern, all I can think to say is, “Thank you.”
