Page 2 of His Puppet

I nod and toss my cigarette on the ground. I snuff it out with my shoe.

“Will do.”

“I’ll see you at the house.”

“The house” is probably not what you’re imagining. There’s no well-manicured lawn or stainless-steel appliances. It’s a two story, four bedroom that we share with eight other people with various careers. Three burglars, two con artists, one other pickpocket, a street performer who does magic tricks while we lift shit off the audience, and Nathaniel. Nathaniel is the owner of the house and our ‘leader’, I guess you could say. We all owe him one way or another.

“See you.”

Ellison heads inside the movie theater while I take a second to breathe in the fresh air. Fresh is probably an overstatement. There’s always a tinge of skunk weed and a foul smell that comes from a cocktail of overfilled garbage cans and piss. Sometimes you can get a whiff of the homeless’s feces. That’s always a treat.

I put my head down and cross the street, my head whipping back and forth like I’m watching for cars, but really I just want to see who is around. That’s another thing. You have to be aware of your surroundings. Always. In Naked City, who knows where the undercover police are?

There are three cars parked along the street, and none of them are running. Two are empty, and one I can’t tell because the windows are too tinted.

I step onto the sidewalk and keep my chin high as I walk toward Mr. Fanny Pack. My phone dings in my pocket, right on time, and I pull it out and slow as I look at the screen.

It’s a picture of Ellison giving a thumbs up in front of the theater concession stand.

Shoes come into my line of sight, and I sway to the right so my shoulder connects with their owner.

“Oh shit,” I say, letting my phone fly out of my hands.

Fanny Pack puts his hand on my shoulder to steady me, gray eyes finding mine. I unclip the fanny pack and fling it behind my back, tucking a strap into my pants and letting it hang.

“I amsosorry,” I say, holding my hands in front of me while he bends to pick up my phone.

He hands it over and gives me a tight smile. “It’s not a problem.”

I take the phone and let out a relieved sigh, putting a hand to my chest. “I guess I’d better watch where I’m going.”

He hums and gives me a curt nod before planting his feet toward the direction he was headed. “You have a good day, miss.”

“You too!”

As soon as he takes his first step, I pluck the fanny pack from my pants and carry it in front of me while I walk away. My steps are quick, but not hurried. There’s nothing suspicious about my stride. That’s important. If he realizes the pack is missing, it’ll take him a minute to figure out what happened as long as I don’t look suspicious.

“Hey!”

My eyes widen, and I glance behind me. Fanny Pack man is feeling his waist and looking straight at me. His face shows both surprise and rage.

Fuck.

I take off in a run, and he sprints after me, screaming at me to stop. My tennis shoes, meant for this kind of situation, slap on the pavement, and I pump my arms.

Tires screech down the road, and I throw a quick look over my shoulder to see the car with the too-tinted windows jerk into the street and speed this way.

I face forward and search for an alley. There’s one up ahead, but I think it has a dead end. Ellison and I surveyed the area beforehand.

The car roars beside me, the window rolling down. I don’t see the man in the passenger seat because all my eyes will focus on is the gun in his hand.

I gasp and duck before he fires the first shot, and a bullet whizzes above my head. Two more fire before I sprint into the alleyway. I was right, there’s a fence past the row of dumpsters, but at least it’s chain-link.

The car screeches to a stop, but I don’t look back. Fanny Pack guy is right behind me. “Get the fuck back here, you bitch!”

I toss the fanny pack over the fence and scale it with as much precision as a lizard up a tree. It’s barely fast enough. The guy reaches for me, but I manage to swing my foot over in time, and I drop to the ground. My eyes find the fanny pack, and I take off without it, praying they’ll stop chasing me.

“Sorry!” I scream. “You can have it back!”

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