by Korry Smith
We were going to fuck right there on this damn walkway; I could feel Alex’s fingers pulling on the thin, breakable elastic of my lacy thongs. Then there was a loud and disruptive cough of someone clearing their throat behind us.
We both froze, lips still engaged, and I opened my eyes, peeking over Alex’s shoulder. A lady was standing there, with an amused smile. I could feel my face flushing with humiliation.
“You dropped something,” she said and walked away.
Alex released me from his entrapment and glanced down at where the lady pointed. He laughed and bent down to pick it up.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Don’t call me senator again.” He winked and attached the object on the collar of my dress.
“Okay.” Gazing down, I saw the campaign button pin I’d taken from the senator two months ago. I shot a surprised look at Alex. “Where…?”
“Come on.” He pulled me away from the wall and led me to Peter and Adriana’s room.
Staring down at the pin, I was fascinated with its reemergence into my life. I knew Alex had it on him, but I didn’t know why or when he got it from my bag. It was random.
“Madi.”
“Yeah?”
Alex motioned towards the end of the room where Peter stood by the sink with his arms folded across his chest. He looked apprehensive, eyes flashing at me then to Alex and then back to me. It was the strangest thing, and I knew right then that something was up.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
Alex stepped in front of me. “Do you trust me?”
I snorted in derision. We were way past that.
“Right. Stupid question.”
Curiously peeking around him, he moved with me and blocked my view.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Peter suggested something to me, too help us focus.”
“Focus how?”
“Something to keep our head in the game.” He smirked, crooked and beautiful. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we tend to get distracted a lot.”
I touched the smeared lipstick on my face.
“That’s an understatement.”
“Exactly!” He grabbed my hands and slowly walked me back towards the sink.
Peter stepped away from his post, revealing several lines of coke on a hand mirror. I glanced up at Alex, seeing that he was already watching me. There was a nervous hesitance as he waited for me to yell at him or kiss him. It surprised me more than anything.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I thought you were against snorting coke.”
“I still am, but you fucking insisted on taking it from Ramon, and I need you to be focused. There it is.”
“There it is,” I said, anxiously gnawing on the inside of my cheek. “Have you ever tried it?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it like?”
Alex smiled, knowing he already had me on board. “It makes you feel like a million bucks.”
I clapped my hands with excitement. “Okay, I’m down.”
“Do you want me to go first?”
“Yes, please.” I sounded so childlike, high-pitched, and sweet.
He chuckled. “All right then.”
I watched as he took a tightly rolled twenty-dollar bill and put it at the end of the line, barely hovering over it. He bent down and put the other end to his nostril, plugging the other one with his finger. Breathing in with a hard sniff, moving it across the line from left to right, in one fluid motion. He tilted his head back and pinched his nose.
“Fuck!” He held out the rolled bill to me. “You’re up, kid.”
“Okay.” Grabbing it from him with trembling hands, I put the tip of the rolled twenty at the remaining line and took one hard snort.
The high came on with a whirlwind of feelings, and I went through all of them. The first snort up the nose burned and stung, but the second line, cut and laid out before me, went into the other nostril with ease. The drug coursed and weaved its way through my veins, lightning fast and with purpose.
It was jarring to me at first, not knowing what to do with this new abundance of energy. Feeling as though I could run twenty miles, but logic creeping in and asking what I would do when I got there. My body and mind were at constant odds with each other, and this was merely a prelude to the drug's grander effect.
Adriana walked into the room, took one look at me, and knew what we'd done. Peter scrambled to explain his reasons and satisfy her concerns, but she wouldn't hear it. She went into a quiet rage and flushed the rest of the wildcat down the toilet. Peter didn't try to stop her. Alex and I couldn’t find it in us to give a shit. We floated in our joyful bubble, more intense and concentrated than usual, and everything outside of that faded away.
Nothing, no bomb, or a meteor falling from the sky, was going to interrupt that.
That was the euphoria stage of the coke high, complete, and utter happiness, despite outside circumstances. That lasted for about ten minutes before slowly fading into the powerful and invincible stage; mixed in with the chatterbox effect, where words would rush out of my mouth in a constant spewing of nonsense. Alex kept up with me, engaging in my said ‘nonsense’ and countering it with his lame jokes.
Then there was kissing Alex on the wildcat. It tingled and electrified from head to toe. We kissed and kissed, frantic and mad, until our lips and tongues were sore.
I didn't want it to end.
We were on the south side of Saint Louis, and after a constant reminder from Adriana, Alex and I finally got our minds to focus on the job. Peter pulled into the parking lot in the rear of the bank and turned the car off. He glanced over at Alex, and there was a universal head nod between men. It wasn't a goodbye, but good luck. We exited the beat-up Ford Escort, gathering our things: Alex's brown leather and gold buckled briefcase, which held the documents we needed, and my Gucci knock-off purse.
It was a cloudy day, and the smell of rain was in the air. The wind knew no mercy with its frigid chill, blowing with a vengeful force and pushing my body back.
"What do you say, kid?" Alex caught me, both of his hands on my hips to steer me straight. "You ready for this?"
The job was the most significant con we'd ever done, but everything about it was different. The usual stage fright didn’t bombard me. I felt invincible, brave, and powerful. I could do anything; like walking into a bank with Missouri’s senator at my side was on the top of my to-do list.
I looked up and met his downward gaze. "I've been ready."
"Well then, lead the way, boss.”
Upon entering the bank, I was surprised to see how small and unimpressive it was. The deco was outdated with a faded orange and brown patterned carpet. The counters fashioned with used wood, peeling and aged. There were two unarmed guards on duty. Robberies were out of the norm, and the last one they had was in 1976. They'd become accustomed to monotony and grew relaxed over the years, feeling secure in their small town. But despite all that, and their negligent security measures, they stocked their vault at full capacity.
"This place is asking for it," Alex whispered into my ear as we stood in line. He chuckled at the three surveillance cameras that weren't even on. "Man, I wish Adriana didn't make us leave our guns."
I nodded, equally disappointed. It would be nice to have a contingency plan if this one went to shit.
Twelve minutes had passed since we arrived, and we were still in the same spot. There was one teller behind the counter working at a snail's pace, and the line of three people was at a ridiculous standstill. I held on to Alex's sleeve and leaned into him, hoping that he could keep me from bursting out of my skin.
Please fucking move, I chanted in my head as my fingers twitched and tore at the fabric of Alex's suit.
Just as I was about to break free and scale the damn walls in this place, a man rose from his desk and came over to us. In one glance, he took in our well put together attire, and the strides in his legs quickened. Dollar sig
ns were in his eyes.
"You don't need to wait in this line. Follow me." The guy led Alex and me back into the rear corner of the bank, giving us an up close and personal view of the vault.
My eyes took on the dollar sign quality, eager to get my hands on it.
"Thank you.” Alex pulled out my chair like a gentleman. "We were about to leave."
I smiled to myself. Not only was my boyfriend chivalrous, but a convincing liar as well.
The man bobbed his head in understanding, circling the desk to take his seat. "We're in the process of hiring, and things have been rather slow around here. Sorry for any inconvenience you may have experienced." He held out his hand to Alex. "My name is Jay Jensen."
Alex shook it. "I'm Nickie Wallis." He gestured over to me. "And this is my wife, Cecilia."
"Nice to meet you," I said, reaching over to shake hands with the man. The smile on my face gave away my excitement of being known as Alex's wife. No matter what shape or form it was in, real or not, I was running with it.
"Likewise." Jensen smiled back. "Now, what can I do for you today?"
"We're here to close our account." Alex brought the briefcase up and sat it on his lap.
"Oh." The smile on Jensen’s face fell, instant regret that he was the one who called us over. "Well, that's certainly a shame. Can I ask why?"
"It's not of your concern," Alex replied in a flat, terse tone.
He sounded and looked identical to the senator. It was eerie, and I was ashamed to say, it turned me on.
"I understand," Jensen said, briefly glancing over at me. I portrayed the role of a prim and proper wife, who stayed quiet. It was a little hard to do, considering there was so much I wanted to say. I had to place my hand on Alex's leg, discretely hidden from view, just to distract myself. Returning his attention to Senator Alex, he sensed the impatience behind his hard eyes and swiveled his chair towards the computer.
He cleared his throat. "Account number?"
"3-2-8-3-5-5-1," Alex said, opening the briefcase, and pulling out the driver's licenses, passports, and social security cards. He had everything prepared and laid them out in a neat pile, pushing it across the large oak desk.
Jensen picked up the licenses and compared them to our faces. They were flawless. He set them back down, satisfied, and typed all the information into the computer. It took a moment of clicking on the keyboard and twirling the mouse on the pad before the account popped up.
"All right, I got your information right here, and you'll be withdrawing…" He stopped mid-sentence, eyes focused on the screen, rapidly moving side to side. "Two million dollars?"
Alex's smirk was smug. "Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not, Mr. Wallis," Jensen said, shaking his head, and quickly double-clicking on the mouse. "It's, uh, a lot of money. It's a part of our banking policy for withdrawals over ten thousand dollars that our clients fill out a form and a manager sign off on it." He smiled with ease and stood up. "How about we move you to our executive lounge? It'll be more private and accommodate you and your wife."
Alex glanced around, towards the tellers and the front door. The rain was pouring now, fogging the windows with moisture, and making it hard to see outside. There was suspicion about the offer, not sure if it was legit or a scam to hold us in a room.
Either way, Alex didn't like it, and being on edge made him curt. "No, we're fine right here. Do you think you can hurry this along? We have a flight in an hour."
"Yes, of course, Mr. Wallis," Jensen said with a nod. "I'll go get my manager, and we'll have you out of here shortly."
"Thank you," Alex said, aiming to be polite but still managing to come out brusque and rude.
Jensen was impervious to the treatment. He gave a benign smile and knocked on the desk with his knuckles. "Sit tight; I'll be right back."
The clicking of his shoes on the floor signaled his departure as it faded and got more distant. There was a stifled air between us, thick and suffocating, filled with unspoken questions. It was our collective gut instinct telling us that something wasn't quite right.
"It seems too easy.” Alex rose from his chair and casually walked over to the front side of the desk.
"What are you doing?" I whisper-shouted, quickly stealing a glance over my shoulder.
"Calm down. I'm just looking," Alex said, putting his hand on the mouse and swiveling it, waking up the computer.
I leaned over the desk, barely catching the corner edge of the screen. "What does it say?"
"Nothing," he said, but there was a hint of relief in his voice. "Everything seems good." Reaching into his blazer, he pulled out his phone. "No one has called me."
I sat back in my chair. "We can relax then?"
"Fuck no!" He chuckled, dimming the screen, and coming back around to join me. "Not until we get to Mexico. Then we can relax."
I stared at the side profile of his face, in awe of his long eyelashes and how the close shave made his jaw more defined, his lips fuller. He was beautifully unreal, but it also caused me to miss the smaller details, like the scruff and facial piercings.
"Love you," I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand, intertwining our fingers.
I knew we agreed to act indifferent to each other, in hopes to not get distracted, but that was a severe restriction for me.
Alex was my connection to the world. Besides, there was no one around, Jensen was taking forever, and I just wanted to feel his warmth.
"Love you." He squeezed my hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it.
I could hear those words every second of every day, and it still wouldn't be enough for me. Those two words made my heart constrict to the point of pain. If it hurt this much with him, I didn’t want to imagine how much it would ache and destroy me from the inside out if I were ever to lose him.
In that one instant, I understood why Alex was scared to love me as much as he did.
"All right, Mr. and Mrs. Wallis, this is my manager, Paul Stanley," Jensen said, and Alex and I glared up at the intrusion.
Jensen had a short and pudgy man in his late sixties with him.
"Good morning," the man said, forcing a smile, and thrusting his dry and severely cracked hand out to me. I refused to touch that thing, but Alex was more than willing to play the game, leaning across me and shaking it with vigor. The man winced, unprepared for Alex's strength. "I hear you're closing an account with us today and it's a fairly large amount."
"Is two million considered a large amount these days?" Alex asked, adopting his father's pompous attitude.
Both men chuckled and pulled up a chair.
Things moved along quickly after that. They didn't ask invasive questions, just told us where to sign and asked how we would like our money, cashier's check, or in large bills. Alex made it easy for them: give us half and half. The cashier's check would be written out to someone not wanted in the States, but the cash was ours, every single Benjamin, and there were tens of thousands of them.
I broke character and grasped the edge of the desk when they were discussing the amount. Alex laughed, rubbing my back, and trying to get me to calm the fuck down. It was hard to watch them go into the vault with a large duffel bag and stuff it full, and we still had six other banks to visit.
For all we knew, there could be less than a thousand dollars in those accounts or more than twenty million.
It was a mystery and up for grabs.
Two trips and two bags later, Alex and I were ready to leave. They shook our hands and thanked us for our business. They were sad to see a fat account close, but I could see it in their eyes, packing up that much dough gave them a thrill for the day.
"Easy peasy, kid. What did I tell you?" Alex bumped shoulders with me.
It was playful and not how a senator should be acting.
"It's a little early to be getting cocky, Ryan," I countered, hooking my arm in his.
"Good point."
We were two steps away from the door. Two steps ahead of our fr
eedom. Two steps further away from Mexico.
Till the day I die, I will always remember those two steps taken a moment too late but delivered our fate right on time.
"Wait, hold on! Don't leave!" Jensen yelled, his voice echoing off the walls, and we froze, slowly turning around to see him running after us. He held Alex's phone in his hand, the screen all lit up, and I could hear it buzzing. "You forgot this."
There was a sigh of relief, and Alex set down the bags, reaching out to take the phone from Jensen. "Thanks, man."
"Not a problem.” He was out of shape, and it showed. "I would have missed it under all the paperwork on my desk if it wasn't ringing off the hook. Someone sure wants to get a hold of you."
My heart stopped, and Alex gave me a sideways glance, our thoughts the same.
Someone was calling to warn us.
"Business.” Alex flipped the phone open. "If you'll excuse me..."
"Oh, of course," he said, chuckling, and waving us off. "Have a good day."
Alex waited until Jensen was out of earshot. "Peter, what's wrong?"
We took two steps towards the front, coming out the swinging glass doors and out into the dreary weather. I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation. I could only read Alex's face.
It took two steps for him to know before it happened and two steps for him to be powerless to stop it.
"Oh, shit," was all I heard him say, eyes closing and head lolling back.
"FREEZE! DON’T YOU FUCKING MOVE!"
There were multiple voices, overlapping and shouting, coming from every direction. It was loud, disorienting and took me a second to figure out what was going on. Through the downpour of the rain, I saw twenty men in FBI vests with their guns aimed at our heads.
We didn't have to ask; we knew why they were there.
"Drop the bags!" one fed said, closer than the others, his Glock’s muzzle inches from my left temple.
Alex saw the gun pointed at me and panicked. "Okay, all right..." He slowly set down the duffel bags. "Take it easy."
The man didn't lower the gun, just redirected it from me and towards Alex. This eased the tension.
"Both of you, hands on your head! NOW!"
