Not so bright and awake today. Apparently I only get one wide awake morning per week, if I’m lucky, and yesterday was it. Today I’m after the coffee pot like a zombie seeking brains. But no matter, the writing prompt must still go on. Everyone ready? Excellent. Let’s go.
This was one of those set ups where I want to keep writing just to see what goes wrong. Because you know, something is going to go wrong. But I stopped at the timer and will have to think about what happens and come back to this later.
Thursday, February 11th: It was mad to try and pull such a scheme.
It was mad to try and pull such a scheme. Especially now when they were so close to finishing. But as usual Kevin wouldn’t listen to anyo9ne. he got it in his mind that he wanted to pull off the heist while they were waiting and nothing Joe could say would convince him to call it off.
Ever since they were kids it had always been that way. Kevin would get an idea in his mind, he would see a goal so clearly that he could see himself achieving it. The trouble was, he was usually pretty good at convincing those around him, especially Joe, to believe in the vision he saw.
It didn’t always turn out as Kevin saw it in his head, sometimes it was better other times it was worse. It was better often enough that Joe got in the habit of going along with him hoping the odds would balance in the end.
This time though, there was something off, something he didn’t like. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something bothered him about the heist.
“You are just worrying for no reason,” he said when Joe brought it up. “You always were a worry wort. Of course back in the day it was fears of Sister Agnes catching us that stopped you from sneaking a smoke, now your unfounded worry could keep you from the biggest score of your life.”
“We’re already waiting for the last clearance for the biggest score of our lives to pay out,” Joe pointed out.
Kevin snorted. “Then just think how glorious it will be when it’s doubled.”
The others around them nodded, but this time Joe held firm. “I’m not going.”
“Trust me, Sister Agnes is nowhere in sight,” Kevin teased. Though his voice was full of humor, his eyes ent hard. Joe saw them, recognized the mood and acknowledged that later there would be hell to pay if he stuck to his course.
Kevin had never liked to be crossed, leastways by those he considered his subordinates. Back in school, Joe said he didn’t want a smoke because he had just spent the summer watching his grandfather gasp out his last days with what little lung capacity the cancer left hi, Kevin decide he was scared of being caught by the nuns and so the story remained. Joe knew he could outline the logic, but it wouldn’t matter, Kevin said he was scared and that’s how the story would stay.
But he hadn’t taken the cigarette, and he wasn’t going on this heist now.
“I got plans,” Joe said. “I’m not changing them. You double your money and then you can lord it over me later. Me, I’ll take my score. I got no reason to be greedy.”
Again Kevin snorted and Joe wondered if he’d push it. The mean look said Kevin was thinking about it. Joe tensed as he saw Kevin’s fist curl. But instead of throwing a punch, Kevin let out his breath in a long steady stream.
“Your loss my chicken hearted friend.”
Kevin turned to the others. They were filled with the glory of Kevin’s vision and they followed him to do last minute planning. As they turned, Joe let the tension ease from his body. He was certain there would be recriminations later. There always were with Kevin. If something went wrong it would be because Joe wasn’t there to do his part. If it went right then there would be at least a month before he would hear of anything else. If he went on another job he would have to double check his gear, knowing Kevin would do some damage. It wouldn’t be enough to get Joe seriously hurt or spoil the job, but it would be something. Payback for his defiance of the natural order.
‘But with the score coming in, if I’m careful I never have to pull another job again.’ Joe thought as he gathered his gear and emptied his locker. He took everything that was his, while no one was watching and out of habit made sure his finger prints were wiped off every surface he touched. He long ago learned to make a mental list of everything he made physical contact with where ever he went, the list scrolling in the back of his mind like a litany. He wiped them now after gathering the last of his things. This time it felt less like his natural caution and more like a parting of ways. With luck, this was a place he would never see again.