Double Edge | WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST + AMBYS 2023 WINNER

Chapter 09

August 30, 2019

Tommy lined up another row of beer cans on the bench. Then he put space between them and himself; he fired his gun. Bang, bang, bang—cans fell over onto the grass beneath the tree.

I looked around. It was evening, so there wasn't anyone around; no one visited this park anyway. Too much activity in the neighborhood kept families away. Tommy firing bullets at empty cans didn't help. What was the point of it? We were robbing a bank, not having an all-out massacre. The gun was for show, right?

"You're up." Tommy turned and faced me. He flipped the gun over, holding it by the handle with three fingers. "Practice."

I sharply exhaled. He knew I didn't want to. I protested all morning. When Mark and Ruben were there, I told them; to remind Tommy that I wasn't shooting anyone. I'd go in, point the gun, and take the money. And shit, I didn't even want to do that.

If they had just let me agree to write a note to slide it over to one of the tellers, it would have been the easiest plan. But they left it up to Shotgun Tommy here.

"Come on." He wiggled the gun. "You gotta practice."

"Man." Stepping back, I folded my arms. "I told you all day to leave me alone. I don't want to do this."

His blond brows lifted. "You want money, right?" he asked. "To save your kid?"

No. He wasn't allowed to use my daughter against me. He didn't know her, didn't know me. He had no right to know about my life, nor did I invite him to do so. "What I need is for you to respect my limits," I said.

"Oh." Tonguing his cheek, he laughed. "Never knew a criminal with a conscience."

"This isn't about having a conscience or some moral code." I looked toward the street. The sound of an incoming car caught my attention. Instantly, I feared the police. If they saw us now, there'd be no robbery. And if I was going to jail, I needed to make sure Maggie was taken care of first. Getting arrested for popping off beer cans the day before wasn't a smart move.

The car came into view. Not the police; a red Camaro with rust around the trunk. I looked back at Tommy. He continued to dangle the gun. "This is about me and my limits. There are some things I just can't do. So I'm asking you to leave me alone with this shit."

Tommy grinned. With three big steps, he closed the space between us. His chest pressed to mine. "Leave you alone, huh?" He held the gun higher and craned his neck to tower over me. "What if I said I won't 'cause I don't give a fuck? How would you feel?"

Anger bubbled in my gut. How Ruben and Mark got into a mess with this guy confused me; he did nothing for us. He gave us a scoop of some money; it had to be more than that. Mark, Ruben, and I weren't perfect and had arrests on our records to prove it. But we never, ever made each other uncomfortable. We were boys. We had each other's back.

"Fuck you," I spat.

"Oh, good." He tossed the gun against me. I fumbled but caught it. When we looked back at each other, he stepped back and pointed at the row of cans he hadn't fired at. "Now shoot."

Because he had fired minutes before, the gun was warm. I looked down at it and observed it; I should be afraid. But no. I wasn't. Wrapping my hand around the gun, I lifted it.

"You see what you can do when you're mad," he laughed. "Ain't no limits when you want to fuck shit up."

My finger settled on the trigger. He was right; I was mad. I was tired of his shit, tired of this plan. At this point, I wanted to drop out, go home, and hug Maggie for as long as I could. But I was committed; too much invested time.