Pennies for the taking - Free short story

The cold metal pressed deep into Paul’s skin. He had never held a gun before, and the weight surprised him. Not that he wanted his pal, Gary, to know that. ‘Yeah, this should do the trick,’ he said, nodding, as he turned the weapon over in his hand and pretended to inspect it. “You paid cash, right? Using a fake name?”

The answer was obvious from the blank expression on Gary’s face.

“Fucking amateur,” said Paul with a chuckle as he passed the pistol back.

“Why are we using a gun, anyway? Let’s just grab some stuff and sell it,” said Gary, putting the air pistol in the waistband of his Y3 tracksuit.

“I need the money now, not when we can shift some merch.” Paul leaned against the chipped brick wall of the alleyway and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He looked at Gary. “Talking of which, you got some cash?”

“Why?”

“I told you. It’s part of the plan.”

“Use your own money,” said Gary, staring down at his tattered trainers.

“I would if I had any. That’s why we’re doing this, remember?”

Gary bit his lower lip before looking up. “I only have a twenty.” He pulled it out of his wallet and half offered it. ‘That has to last the week, though.’

Paul snatched the cash and stuffed it into his pocket. He heard his friend mutter something, but let it go. Although the guy was an idiot, he was the only person who would do this for him.

The duo turned and, standing side-by-side, looked out from their hiding spot and toward the ‘Mercer Wines’ convenience store. Exhaling, Paul checked the time on his mobile. The shop was due to close in five minutes. “Stick to the plan and we’ll gone in sixty seconds.”

“Yeah, about the plan. I get it, but why am I the one with the gun? If I’m caught…”

“We aren’t going to get caught. In-and-out. Nice and easy. Besides, these places are insured and the old bag that runs the place won’t want any trouble. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you,” said Paul. He knew his flattery had worked when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Gary smiling.

“Yeah, true. I can handle these situations. One last thing, why are we robbing it on a Tuesday?”

“My mate tells me they bank their dough every Wednesday morning. So this should be a week’s worth of cash. Guess the banks are less busy. Right, I’m going in. Don’t fuck up and don’t forget your mask.”

“I won’t. You want to see it?”

Paul ignored the question and started walking toward the store. It was time for action.

With a shaky hand, he pushed open the grimy PVC door, and as he stepped foot inside, a wave of nausea washed over him. He swallowed all his doubts back down into his stomach and continued on.

A delayed bell announced his arrival and made him jump. He swung around and stared at the primitive box above the door frame. No camera. Thank fuck. Sweat dripped down his temples, and he fanned his hoodie out from the centre of his chest.

He continued on, shaking his head, and telling himself it was going to be alright. He could do this.

After taking a deep breath, the rhythm of his heart steadied. Then a deep, local voice called out from the back of the store. “We’re closing, mate.”

Shit, that didn’t sound like an old Indian woman.

“That’s alright, I won’t be long. I just want… some gum,” said Paul, stumbling forward. The plan was now fucked, but that didn’t matter. It was too late to turn back. He could do this. His head turned in an exaggerated motion as he feigned interest in the rows of confectionary, the cheap sunglasses on a swivel rack and the stacked up putrid energy drinks that hemmed him in and funnelled him deeper into the store. No matter how he felt or what he was planning, it was vital that he looked like a regular shopper.

When he reached the gum, which was displayed next to the counter, he grabbed a pack of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit and stared at it. He squinted and then blinked, trying to determine the jumble of shapes that were where the letters should be. After rubbing the moisture from around his eyes, he placed the item on the counter. “Just this.”

“You alright mate? Not to be rude, but I recognise the signs. There’s a clinic near here, and I can give you the details. It’s closed now, but-”

“What? No. Just this.” The words scratched at his throat as they made their way up and out. As he licked his dry lips, the overwhelming taste of salt lingered in his mouth. Perhaps he should grab a drink, too. It would be free, after all.

“Eighty pence, please,” said the cashier.

“For this?”

“Listen, I don’t set the prices. That’s eighty pence.”

“And I don’t appreciate your tone…Ryan,” said Paul, reading out the lopsided ‘Here to help,’ badge affixed to the tubby server’s stained white t-shirt. “Let me guess, you’re only following orders. Well, you know who else was only following orders? The Naz-.”

‘We’re just about to close, mate. Buy the gum or don’t.’

Paul caught sight of the dusty clock behind the counter. Where was that fool, Gary? At the thought of what was about to happen, his right leg twitched, and he tensed his groin. They had one chance to get the money and there was no way he would return to that igloo of a bedsit without it. The gas meter had been on empty for far too long.

His eyes darted to the large window that looked out onto the grey street. He had hoped to see his friend, ready to pounce, but instead, he found a broken kid staring back at him. ‘Got change for a twenty?’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

The cashier sighed. “Sure.”

Paul reached into his pocket but held onto the note. He couldn’t afford for the transaction to be over so soon. His attention returned to the clock. Every second lasted for what seemed an eternity and with it, the desire to flee grew. Reality, however, like gravity, kept him rooted to the spot.

The small hand clicked onto the hour and made his stomach twist in discomfort.

“Look, mate, I gotta close up. Just take the bloody gum,” said the shop worker.

“No, no, I’ll pay your precious money. Give me a minute,” said Paul, as he pulled out the note and slammed it down on the countertop.

The cashier eyed Paul one more time and then tapped a series of buttons on the till, sending the cash drawer shooting out. His hands moved toward the bank note just as the entrance bell let out another shrill scream. The two men looked over in time to see a man burst into the store, screaming unintelligible obscenities.

Dressed in a branded tracksuit and with a stretched stocking over his head, the intruder stormed down the narrow aisle swinging a pistol in the air. “Give me the fuckin’ cash.”

The cashier flung his arms into the air and jumped back, crashing into the cigarette shelves and sending pack after pack toppling. His bingo wings continued to wobble long after the last packet of slow death hit the sticky floor.

Paul’s stomach was like a bubbling cauldron. It took all of his strength not to run. To safety or a toilet, he didn’t know which would be better. No, this was his pal. This was his plan. He shook his head and regained his composure just in time to feel a large hand push against his chest and send him onto his back.

His eyes closed momentarily as packets of crisps buried him alive and further muffled the unintelligible threats from the nylon masked thief.

As Paul swept the salty snacks off his head, his vision returned, and he watched his accomplice lunge over the counter and make a grab at the till. By the time he had propped himself up on his elbows, it was all over.

Gentle sobbing from behind the till drowned the low hum of the refrigerator out.

Paul stood up and peered down at the cashier, who was as white as a boiled egg. Their eyes met, and Paul wanted to console the kid. But he couldn’t. Placing both hands on the counter, he lowered his gaze to the counter. And the gum. He moved his left hand over the item and slid it down into his pocket. “Sorry, man, I ain’t no grass. You’re on your own.” He turned and rushed to the door. His pace increasing with his heartbeat.

By the time he pushed the door open, Paul’s heart was like a Gabber drum beat. Its frantic thud pulsated through his skull. They had done it! His knees wobbled at the experience, but held out as the rush propelled him across the pavement and onto the street.

The surrounding lights became a blur and the sound of the passing traffic merged into one indistinguishable drone. In that moment, nothing else existed or mattered beyond returning to the alleyway. That money would pay for more than just heating. It was the start to getting his life together.

A horn blared, and Paul’s eyes widened as a bus swerved past, sending a fresh gust of air into his face. The danger made him feel more alive than ever before. Tonight was his lucky night.

Now standing in the middle of the road, he glanced back at the store and the clueless worker, who was pacing up-and-down a small stretch of the pavement.

With a chuckle, Paul turned and strode towards the alleyway and his new beginning. About a quarter of the way down, in the gloom, he made out a lighted cigarette swaying from side-to-side. His mate looked like he belonged in a crap noir film.

“Did you grab the cash from the till?” Paul said as he approached his accomplice, rubbing his nose. The air was thick with the strange combination of weed and urine.

“Even better, your mate was right. I nabbed a bank bag. It’s heavy as shit. I was fuckin’ good, wasn’t I? You should have seen your face. Reckon we got away with it?”

“Fuck yeah, that wanker doesn’t know what hit him. I even grabbed the gum,” laughed Paul as he ripped open the pack, popped a piece into his mouth and masticated like a cow. Each elongated and noisy chew pushed the memory of the cashier’s face into the recesses of his mind with all of his other regrets.

“And my twenty,” said Gary.

“I didn’t grab it. I thought you did.”

The duo stared at each other.

Gary narrowed his eyes before opening his mouth.

“You’re my mate and you helped with this. So, take an extra twenty. Now, let’s see what we got,” said Paul, trying to avoid conflict.

Gary opened the bag, and the thieves peered in. Their jaws dropped.

“What the fuck!” Paul mumbled as he shoved a hand into the bag and pulled out a handful of pennies. Despite the night chill, his skin burned up. Short, rapid breaths forced their way out of his mouth. With wide eyes, he glanced at his friend and then at the car that had parked up at the top of the alleyway.

It might have been a second or a minute, but before Paul knew it, two uniformed officers were walking towards them.

As his hands went limp, a solitary coin fell. A sharp ringing sound cut through the silence.

Paul realised he was going to spend the night somewhere warm after all.