“Blow ’im away,” the younger man says. His hands open and close quickly, as if he’d like to get them around Bob’s throat. “Go on, blow the sucker off. I
“Shut up. Get busy and find us a case of Scotch, a case of Dewar’s. I’ll take care of …”
“Fuck ’im, fuck the pig! Just blow off his fucking head!”
“Look, I’m telling the truth. I came in to make a phone call. My car …”
“Oh, man, you are so fucking stupid!” The man lifts the barrel of the shotgun and places it lightly against Bob’s chest. It’s a twenty-gauge pump with a choke, Bob notices. He looks down the long black barrel to the man at the other end. The safety is off, and the man is handling the gun firmly, but with ease. He is familiar with the gun. The stock is buried snugly under his right arm, and his right hand curls around the trigger guard, index finger laid against the trigger, while his left hand carries the weight of the gun.
The man with the cornrows has taken a step away and is watching his partner excitedly. “
“Shut the fuck up and get the Scotch.”
“Listen, I’ll give you whatever you want, everything in the store. I don’t give a shit, it’s not my store. I’ll help you load up, even. But the register’s empty. You gotta believe me. I already made the deposit, and then I went out with my … with my girlfriend for a while, and then my transmission got jammed, it does that a lot, so I came in just to make a phone call, that’s all. We closed up at nine.”
“You’re closing now, man. We seen you closing up, which is why we come in here. But I don’t want to argue with you, white man, I just want to stop a minute in my travels, get me some change and a case of Dewar’s, and keep moving. But you making it hard for me. We in a hurry. You understand me?” He pokes Bob’s chest with the muzzle of the gun.
“Yeah, sure, okay, fine.”
He’ll kill me if I argue, Bob decides. The information comes to him like the rule of a game he has been struggling to understand.
“Here, look,” Bob says, waving an arm in the direction of the cash register. “See, cash drawer’s wide open. Empty. Nothing. You want my watch? It’s a fucking Timex, but you’re welcome to it.” He peels off his watch and slaps it onto the counter, smashing the crystal. “Here’s my wallet. Empty too. Not even any fucking credit cards. I just work here! I’m a peon, a clerk, a
Holding the gun level with Bob’s chest, the man steps carefully around the counter and looks down its length at the cash register. “Gimme the bag. You know, the night deposit bag. I don’t want your fucking tin watch, man, so don’t get so excited. Just gimme the bag.” Glancing toward the back of the store, he calls to his partner. “You got that case of Dewar’s? Hurry the fuck up, man!”
“It’s too dark. Ask the guy where the fuck it is.”
“In the stockroom in back,” Bob says in a low, almost confidential voice. He and the man with the shotgun, the man who will kill him, are alike, Bob thinks. They’re different from the man with the crazy hairdo and the wild eyes. “No shit, mister, I really did already make the deposit tonight. I left the store at nine because I had to meet a girl.” Bob wants to tell him that his girlfriend is black, that she lives in a black neighborhood and knows lots of black people, and even though she’s a nurse, she comes from a poor family. “My girlfriend …” he starts.
“I don’t give a
“Forget it!” the other man hollers. “I found it. Dewar’s.” Then, after a few seconds, he says, “Shit! Empty. These’re just empty cases here, man. Ask whitebread where the fuck the Dewar’s is. Do you got to have Dewar’s? There’s some other kinds here on the shelfs. I could fill one of these empty cases with one of these kinds.”
“Look in the fucking stockroom!” the man shouts, angry now. “And hurry the fuck up!”
“It’s dark back here, man. I can’t see no Dewar’s, I can’t see nothing.”
“Where’s the light switch for the stockroom?” the man asks Bob.
“On the wall on the right, by the door.”
The man relays the information. Then he raises the shotgun and aims it directly at Bob’s forehead. He says, “I’m going to blow your fucking head all over that wall behind you.” His voice is as cold and calm as the ground. “I’m going to splash your fucking brains, you white sonofabitch, unless you get me that money bag right now.”
