Ladies Night by Christian Keyes

sure that he’d made the right move by cooperating. If this guy had shot someone, then obviously he was unstable enough to use the machete. Amp backed away, keeping his eyes on the blade. “If you need some cereal and milk for the kids in the morning, it’s in aisle two. Whatever you need, help yourself.”
    â€œWhy you so damn helpful anyway?” The robber started tapping the machete against his leg.
    â€œâ€™Cause I’m not trying to die over no minimum wage job.”
    â€œWhat are you gonna do when I walk out that door?”
    â€œWait about five or ten minutes then call the cops.”
    The robber bobbed and weaved his head in an attempt to get Amp to focus on him. It was useless, as Amp kept his eyes on the weapon.
    â€œWhy ain’t you looking at me?”
    â€œI don’t wanna know what you look like. That way you don’t have a reason to kill me.” Amp turned his head toward the wall, looking in the opposite direction from the man.
    The robber didn’t respond. As a matter of fact, for the next few seconds Amp didn’t hear anything. When a few more seconds had passed, he heard the sound of the door closing. This made him nervous. If another customer was walking in on the robbery, no telling what could happen. After a moment of uninterrupted silence, Amp finally decided to risk a peek at the spot where the robber had been standing. Discovering that the guy had exited the store, Amp hurried over and locked the door, breathing a sigh of relief.
    â€œThis is some bullshit here!” he swore. “I was safer in prison.”
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    For the second time since Amp had arrived at the halfway house, a cop car with flashing lights was pulling up into the driveway.
    â€œDamn it. Now what?” Paul said as he walked out onto the porch. He was surprised to see Amp being let out of the back of the car. Of all the guys in the house, Amp was the one he would have least expected to see in this situation. He had gotten a job so fast, and Paul really thought he was on the right track.
    Paul stepped off the porch to go ask questions. He went straight to Amp, rather than talking to the cops. After all, LAPD had a reputation—a not so stellar one—and Paul still wanted to give Amp the benefit of the doubt.
    â€œWhat happened?” he asked Amp.
    â€œI got robbed at the store. I gave them my statement,” Amp replied, holding his hands out to show Paul that he wasn’t wearing handcuffs. “They ran my name, found out I’m on parole, and brought me here.”
    A look of relief passed over Paul’s face upon hearing that Amp hadn’t messed up. He looked toward the two officers who had walked up behind Amp. Introducing himself as the one in charge of the house, he thanked them for bringing Amp back. They nodded, but neither one had much to say. These guys were a little too uptight for Paul’s taste.
    â€œOkay then . . .” Paul said, breaking the awkward silence. He looked to Amp. “Well, unless you’re too shook up, shouldn’t you be headed over to your other job?” Paul looked back to the officers. “That is, if you guys are finished with him.”
    The officers nodded silently again.
    â€œYes,” Amp replied. “I should get going. I’m gonna go get changed.” He hurried into the house without looking back.
    Paul looked to the officers. “Thanks again.”
    One of the officers finally spoke. “No problem. But keep your eye on that one.”
    Paul looked over his shoulder then back at the officer. “I think that one is going to be just fine. You have a good night, officers,” he said then headed back inside.
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    The next day at the store, a glooming feeling hung in the atmosphere. After the robbery, Mr. Lam had been called back to the store, so he’d been there when Amp gave his story to the cops. This morning, for some reason, he’d already asked Amp to