reasons, I guess. It’s an individual thing. It all depends on what you want out of a car and—”
Heather heaved an exasperated sigh. “Why do people put fake bullet hole decals on their fucking cars, man? Would it kill you to stop blazing up for a just a few minutes and pay some goddamn attention to what I’m saying?”
Josh glanced at the crumpled joint hanging pinched loosely between his thumb and forefinger. He shrugged and stubbed the lit end out in the Chevelle’s overflowing ashtray. “Sorry. I guess people do that because they think it makes them look badass.”
Heather’s scowl deepened. “It makes them look like fucking idiots.”
“Yeah.”
“If you were a real criminal, like of the violent, dangerous variety, why would you tool around in a shot-up ride?” Josh opened his mouth to reply, but Heather was too worked up and steamrolled right over whatever he’d been about to say. “You wouldn’t. Not at all, man. You’d want to lie low and be fucking inconspicuous. Shit!”
She stomped the Chevelle’s floorboard with the heel of a boot.
Josh’s expression became worried. “Hey...calm down, all right?”
Heather heaved another big sigh. “I just hate stupid people.”
“I know. Stupid people suck.”
Heather was nodding. “They should all die.”
“Yep. Totally agree.” Josh sounded more than a little nervous when he cleared his throat. “So...are we gonna do this thing or not?”
Heather glanced at the loaded .38 clutched tightly in her white-knuckled right hand and felt her chest grow tight. “I can’t believe I’m doing this again. I swore I wouldn’t.”
Josh shrugged, smiling weakly. “Hey, I’m against it, remember? You want to call it off, that’s cool by me.”
Heather was shaking her head before she finished. “No. We need money. Now.” She opened the door on her side and swung one long leg out of the car. She glanced at Josh. “Get behind the wheel and start the engine. I’m gonna make this fast, so be ready to go.”
Josh gulped. His eyes were shining with fear now. “Okay.”
“And don’t blaze up.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
Heather slithered out of the car and started quickly across the parking lot, a lean, long-legged, hip-swiveling slice of black-clad beauty. A stiff breeze stirred platinum-blonde hair. Stylish black shades hid eyes a startling shade of blue. A purse with a long strap hung from her right shoulder. Not so stylish, but it was right for the job. The hand gripping the gun was shoved down inside it. The clerk behind the counter wouldn’t see it until it was too late.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
I don’t want to do this . Not again.
Three years ago she’d robbed a liquor store at gun point. Her boyfriend Craig had been the instigator that time. The motive that time had been “fun” rather than monetary. A highly risky piece of thrill-seeking. Craig was dead now, one of the many victims of the Flaherty Brothers Traveling Carnivale and Freakshow. She had hated him by the end, but there had been a time when she’d allowed herself to fall fully under his bad boy spell. It hadn’t hurt that he’d been such a good-looking son of a bitch. For a short while, she’d gone along with any crazy idea that entered his twisted mind. Like doing an armed robbery just to have done it.
This was different.
Everything was different since the freakshow.
She almost never slept anymore. She was afraid to close her eyes for fear of seeing the horribly deformed monstrosities from the freakshow in her dreams. The coke habit she’d developed went a long way toward staving off sleep and the nightmares that came with it. The downside to that was that coke wasn’t cheap. She and Josh moved around a lot. Staying in one place more than a week made her nervous. Josh did a bit of day labor here and there wherever they landed, but they were perpetually low on funds. Yet never so low as they were now. Today they didn’t have a single penny between
Heather heaved an exasperated sigh. “Why do people put fake bullet hole decals on their fucking cars, man? Would it kill you to stop blazing up for a just a few minutes and pay some goddamn attention to what I’m saying?”
Josh glanced at the crumpled joint hanging pinched loosely between his thumb and forefinger. He shrugged and stubbed the lit end out in the Chevelle’s overflowing ashtray. “Sorry. I guess people do that because they think it makes them look badass.”
Heather’s scowl deepened. “It makes them look like fucking idiots.”
“Yeah.”
“If you were a real criminal, like of the violent, dangerous variety, why would you tool around in a shot-up ride?” Josh opened his mouth to reply, but Heather was too worked up and steamrolled right over whatever he’d been about to say. “You wouldn’t. Not at all, man. You’d want to lie low and be fucking inconspicuous. Shit!”
She stomped the Chevelle’s floorboard with the heel of a boot.
Josh’s expression became worried. “Hey...calm down, all right?”
Heather heaved another big sigh. “I just hate stupid people.”
“I know. Stupid people suck.”
Heather was nodding. “They should all die.”
“Yep. Totally agree.” Josh sounded more than a little nervous when he cleared his throat. “So...are we gonna do this thing or not?”
Heather glanced at the loaded .38 clutched tightly in her white-knuckled right hand and felt her chest grow tight. “I can’t believe I’m doing this again. I swore I wouldn’t.”
Josh shrugged, smiling weakly. “Hey, I’m against it, remember? You want to call it off, that’s cool by me.”
Heather was shaking her head before she finished. “No. We need money. Now.” She opened the door on her side and swung one long leg out of the car. She glanced at Josh. “Get behind the wheel and start the engine. I’m gonna make this fast, so be ready to go.”
Josh gulped. His eyes were shining with fear now. “Okay.”
“And don’t blaze up.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
Heather slithered out of the car and started quickly across the parking lot, a lean, long-legged, hip-swiveling slice of black-clad beauty. A stiff breeze stirred platinum-blonde hair. Stylish black shades hid eyes a startling shade of blue. A purse with a long strap hung from her right shoulder. Not so stylish, but it was right for the job. The hand gripping the gun was shoved down inside it. The clerk behind the counter wouldn’t see it until it was too late.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
I don’t want to do this . Not again.
Three years ago she’d robbed a liquor store at gun point. Her boyfriend Craig had been the instigator that time. The motive that time had been “fun” rather than monetary. A highly risky piece of thrill-seeking. Craig was dead now, one of the many victims of the Flaherty Brothers Traveling Carnivale and Freakshow. She had hated him by the end, but there had been a time when she’d allowed herself to fall fully under his bad boy spell. It hadn’t hurt that he’d been such a good-looking son of a bitch. For a short while, she’d gone along with any crazy idea that entered his twisted mind. Like doing an armed robbery just to have done it.
This was different.
Everything was different since the freakshow.
She almost never slept anymore. She was afraid to close her eyes for fear of seeing the horribly deformed monstrosities from the freakshow in her dreams. The coke habit she’d developed went a long way toward staving off sleep and the nightmares that came with it. The downside to that was that coke wasn’t cheap. She and Josh moved around a lot. Staying in one place more than a week made her nervous. Josh did a bit of day labor here and there wherever they landed, but they were perpetually low on funds. Yet never so low as they were now. Today they didn’t have a single penny between
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