Up in Smoke by T. K. Chapin Page B

want?” I pushed out as I caught my breath.
    “You made me mad, Blaze. I was going to give you a break, but now I want all of it.”
    “Okay. Let’s go back to the bank and I’ll get it out.”
    Shaking his head, he said, “No. Cameras and security guards. I’d rather not go back to prison. How about you drop it off at this address?” He slipped a card in my coat pocket. “Drop it off by noon.” He patted my shoulder and said, “Don’t try anything cute.”
    “Okay,” I squeezed out as I still hurt. Turning, I grabbed for my door and crawled into the driver seat. I sighed and started to regain my composure. My door was still open.
    “Oh, and hey, Rick,” the kid said suddenly, leaning down into my driver’s side door.
    I looked over and up at him.
    “I’d hate to see that firefighter rally get ugly . . . so really, don’t try anything.”
    He vanished away from my car door and I put my hand on my chest to help myself cool down from the anger. “Ugh!” I moaned as I reached out and smacked the steering wheel.
    I drove back to the bank and went inside. Upset and distraught, I returned to the same teller and requested to withdraw all the money from the account.
    “Are you okay?” she asked, looking at my head, which was doused in sweat.
    There wasn’t a farther place I could be from okay in that moment, which she could obviously see in my face, but I couldn’t say anything. She’d be suspicious. “I’m fine.”
    “Okay . . .” She began counting out the hundreds in front of me and my heart pounded harder with each bill as she laid it down. Being forced to drain my bank account? What kind of idiot does he think I am? I wondered. He’s just a kid!
    “You know what?” I said. “Stop. Forget this. Put it all back. I changed my mind.”
    “Okay . . .” She began to reverse the process and put all the money back into the drawer.
    “We done here?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Unless you wanted to do something else. Sir, are you sure you’re okay?”
    I patted the counter and shook my head. “We’re done.”
    Leaving the bank, I immediately made my way down to Heidi’s diner to talk to Ron. He would know what to do to resolve this issue. Some twenty-something year old punk wasn’t going to dictate my life. Being pressured and bullied into doing something wasn’t something Ron ever tolerated. There was one time when I came into the diner in tears as a young school boy because of a bully I’d had a run in with at school. Ron sat me down on the stool and asked me what happened. When I told him, he shook his head, tossed the towel over his shoulder, and looked me square in the eye. He explained to me why people bully and how I could use my intelligence to battle against the bullies. At the ripe age of twelve, he taught me how to defend myself with words and intelligence, destroying my enemies with intellect.
    Getting to the diner, I went straight for the kitchen. Pushing open the swinging kitchen doors, I looked Ron in the eyes and said, “Can we talk?”
    He nodded.
    Penny tapped my shoulder as she was standing right next to me, just outside the kitchen. “Ricky, you know you can’t be behind the counter,” she said.
    “Sorry,” I replied, letting go of the doors. “I’ll be in that booth over there, waiting for Ron.”
    “Want some coffee while you wait?” she asked.
    “No thanks. It’ll be quick.”
    Going over to the booth, I took a seat. My foot nervously shook as I waited for him to come out. My insides felt like they were boiling with frustration.
    Ron came out from the kitchen, and I jumped up from the booth to greet him. He shook my hand and took a seat across the table.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked.
    “How do you know something is wrong?”
    He shrugged. “I’ve known you for a long time, kid. You have never come into the back like that. What’s up?”
    “I got myself in a sticky situation, and I need your help.”
    “What kind of stickiness are we