Redd

––––––––

Slipping my jacket down my arms, I hung it on the back of the chair and climbed into the seat. Glancing around over my shoulder, the bar was pretty dead.

A thick haze of smoke floated around the room, hovering like a thin blanket. The lighting was dim, just what you might expect from a dive bar in a city like this. I had only been this far north once before, spending most of my time in the southern states.

But I liked this city when I was here last time, something about it just stuck with me. It was exactly what I was looking for; busy but not overcrowded, large chain stores, peppered with small local businesses. It was the change I needed.

Shifting on the stool, I eyed the other patrons. A few old drunks sat in a booth in the back of the room, a couple dirty construction workers chatted together at the far end of the long wooden bar.

Clasping my hands together, I stared up at the screen hanging above my head. The channel was set on a football game that no one appeared to be interested in.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked, taking a drag off her cigarette, then resting it on a warped black ashtray. Her voice was scratchy, as if she had swallowed a spoonful of powdered sugar and was choking on it.

“I thought smoking wasn't allowed in bars anymore?”

The older woman cocked her head, giving me a sweet smile. “You're not from around here. Where you from, kid?”

“Kid?” I asked, laughing. “Lady, I'm not a kid.”

“Maybe not, but son, I'm probably triple your age. In my eyes, you're still a kid.” Picking up her cigarette, she took another drag and blew the smoke out to the side. “And this bar, it's a members only establishment. People pay to be here, so, that means we can smoke inside.”

Slapping the top of the bar, I nodded my head. “Gotcha, sorry, I didn't know. I'll head someplace else, no worries.”

“No, no,” she said, flapping her hand for me to sit back down. “Don't worry about it, have your drink. What'll it be?”

“Are you sure?”

“Tell me what you want before I change my mind.”

“Scotch, no ice.”

“Young guy with an old soul, scotch it is.”

Smiling, I pointed up at the television. “It doesn't look like anyone is watching this, can I change it?”

Resting the glass in front of me, she placed a remote beside it. “Have at it. My ex-husband used to watch football like it was a religion, I've seen enough to last me a lifetime. Although, I can't say those tight little pants aren't worth a glance every now and again.” Cupping her hips, she gave me a smile. “The name's Tammy, let me know if you need anything else, Hun.”

“Thanks.” Sipping the liquor, I flipped aimlessly through the stations. It had been a long time since I just sat down and watched the T.V. without a purpose.

Spotting a weather anchor, I laid the remote down and held the drink up to my mouth. My lips began to tingle as the liquor glazed the surface and I opened to take a sip.

Staring at the screen, I let my mind slip into relaxation mode, allowing all the pent up tension from years of being on the road melt away. I had spent the past six years bouncing from place to place, doing my best to stay afloat and under the radar.

So far, luck had been on my side.

I'd land a job here and there, putting my services to good use. Most of the men I worked for weren't exactly paper pushers, and none of them sat on the right side of the law.

But the money was good, and when it landed in my hands, I didn't really care how it got there, as long as I got paid.

The local channel nine team blabbed on and on about a few carjackings and an upcoming festival just on the outskirts of the city line. There was nothing they were talking about that mattered to me and that was good.

“In national news tonight, the police in Georgia are looking for the person responsible for three local jewelry store robberies. Captain Robert Dean reports that the perpetrator got away with more four hundred thousand dollars worth of merchandise. They're reaching out for any tips or leads that can help aid in the capture of the thief.”

And there it is. . .

I wasn't too worried about the segment. It didn't really look like the folks in here would put two and two together—new guy strolls in, jewelry missing in a state miles from here. . .

The news meant shit to these people. Not one of them even lifted their head to acknowledge the crackling voice through the speaker.

Watching, I took another long swallow of scotch, letting it slowly burn the back of my throat with a satisfied grin on my face. The police didn't know who was responsible, they didn't have a description of the person or any video of them in the act.

A link hadn't been made between those burglaries, or the two in Texas, or the one in South Carolina, or any of the other places I had hit. I was a ghost.

Guess eyes aren't everywhere. . .

Smiling to myself, I clanked the empty glass on the dull surface. “Tammy, I'll take one more.”

“You got it.”

Sliding my palm back and forth over the counter top, I could tell this bar had once been a diamond in the rough. There was gold etching swirling and swooping in intricate designs around the facing. The mirrored backdrop on the wall behind the bar was layered in glass shelves.

A few of the shelves were missing, probably broken during old bar fights in its hay day, creating a tetris tower of bottles covered in dust and stale smoke. The booths were large, but the seats were cracked like dry skin in the winter.

Too bad, this place could be so much more. 

The door swung open, sending a burst of cold air through the small bar. Two men in fancy suits walked in shoulder to shoulder, no smiles, no laughs or talk of a business deal they just scored.

One of the men was a little taller, his hair was greased back tight against his scalp, and a small red handkerchief was poking out of his breast pocket. He had a demeanor to his walk that bled control, power, money.

The other guy was wearing a matching suit, his hair was longer, pulled back in a low ponytail. But he didn't hold the same leveled command as his counterpart. He looked more nervous, with his dark brows arched high and a thin frown on his face.

I knew instantly that they weren't from the world of an actual working man. They didn't sit behind a desk, calculating the next spike in the stock market or the upcoming proposal for a high end condo.

It was plain as day in their black beady eyes and grim faces—these men came from something darker, from a world that was run by orders, fists, and guns.

“Hey fellas, I'll be with you in a second. The usual tonight?”

“Just get our drinks, Tam, we don't have time for small talk.” The taller guy snapped, giving her an angry glare.

“Sure, no problem.” Tammy stalked to the cooler against the left side of the bar, leaning in and sifting through beer bottles.

Keeping my head down, I stared at my fingers and swirled the liquor in my glass. I could assume these men were paying members, but I knew better.

Guys like them, men wearing Armani suits and shoes that shined like a star in the night, they didn't just waltz into a shitty dive bar. . . Not unless they gained something from using it.

“So, he really still has it?” the guy closer to me asked, his eyes jittering in the sockets, looking over both shoulders and darting around.

“Of course he has it, what the hell do you think he did? Got rid of it?”

“I don't know, it just doesn't seem like good business to keep it in his house. What if they find. . .” Shifting a hair closer, he whispered. “Jewel? I mean that could be bad, that could be really really bad.”

The other man looked more put together. He didn't look nervous or uncomfortable. Cocking his jaw, he let his eyes steady on the man next him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shaking his head, he scrubbed his chin. “Are you going to bitch out on this—on him?” Pressing his face in, his brows furrowed. “Do you know what will happen if he hears you talking like this?”

“Val, it just doesn't seem smart, that's all I'm saying. And not just for him, for all of us. If someone catches wind about it, and the feds go there, we're all in a world of shit. How long do you think he plans on keeping it before he finally just gets rid of it? It's already been too long if you ask me.”

“No one is asking you, douchebag. And I don't know, man, but he's not stupid. Would you just get rid of fifty grand? I don't think you would. Besides, you can't just get rid of something like that.”

Fifty grand? What the hell are these guys talking about?

“Are you fucking with me?” Leaning back on the stool, the man scratched at his neck. “He cleans his hands all the time, what difference is there with this?”

“Dom, just shut the fuck up. There's a big difference, he was owed this, now it's his. The man can do whatever the fuck he wants to with it. It's not any of our business, so fuck off about it.”

Pulling a pack of smokes from the inside of his jacket, the man called Dom rested a cigarette between his lips. “Alright, I'm done, I get it. He's got a meeting in Boston tomorrow, so we're going for the night, that's the plan?”

“That's the plan. He hasn't left to go on business since he took it, we can't fuck this up. But, I need you to use your fucking head tonight. He's got strict rules and I'm not going to let you get us killed. We're there to keep an eye on things, no touching. It's an easy ten thousand apiece if we just follow orders.”

I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but I couldn't help it. These men were talking my language, it was like they were whispering sweet easy cash into my hands.

I was a thief. How could I not listen in?

Used to be a thief. You promised no more, you don't have to. Everything is good now.

I had made a promise to myself. But that promise over the years had morphed into an obsession. Every time I stole, I made the next challenge harder. It became a game to me, to see if I could get in and out of a place that was deemed impenetrable.

And my confidence opened up doors to not only stealing for myself, but for others. I'd accept any challenge, for the right price.

The first time, I felt bad, I really did. But I didn't have a choice, times were rough and we needed the money. I was sixteen, and my family was on the verge of being homeless. Having barely enough to get by, I wouldn't allow us to have absolutely nothing.

And each time I did it, it got easier and easier.

I started small, breaking into a convenience store a block over from my home. I didn't get much, a couple hundred dollars and a pocket full of change. But it put food on the table, it paid the electric for another month.

But I still felt horrible about what I had done. I just didn't have a choice, my family was in need. And it wasn't like my father was doing much to help. All he cared about was getting drunk. So I stepped up, I did what he couldn't do.

Thanks Dad. . . Fucking asshole.

The only thing I refused to touch was someone else's house. Doing that was out of the question, I refused to steal from the home of another.

I couldn't take from one and give to myself.

It didn't feel right.

Then my luck changed, I met a man in a bar not much different from this one. I wasn't even old enough to drink, but that shit didn't matter. I guess word had gotten around on the streets about my 'talent'.

The man gave me an opportunity, he offered me a lot of fucking cash to steal something for him. It was the deal of a lifetime.

I got to do what I did best. No more trying to sell what I took, risking getting caught in the process. The entire thing was easy as fuck. I did the job, got him what he asked for, and left with cash in my pocket.

Before I knew it, my phone was blowing up with guys who were looking for assistance from me.

I had found the perfect storm.

You're done Redd, you promised.

I was supposed to be retired from the business, but now, temptation was calling me. It was either that or pure ego. An ego that wanted to keep taking, an ego that would whisper taunting words and egg me on.

What could one more hurt?

One last lift, one last score to top them all.

This last one could be for me. Not a portion of what someone else would get.

No one knew me here, no one would suspect it was the lone man at the bar. And it would be the easiest lift I'd ever done. I wasn't going into some rigged up jewelry store, loaded with bells and whistles.

It was a house. You said no to houses.

But they look like thieves themselves in a way. It's still someone's home.

It doesn't sound like the owner holds legal rights to it anyway. Does that matter?

My conscience was fighting with itself, the good and the bad battling a rule I had set up ages ago.

A gem worth fifty grand. . . How do you pass that up?

When will I ever get this chance again?

I doubt it would even get reported to the cops.

“You still in, Dominic? Don't puss out on me, you owe me that much.” Val nodded his head at the bartender as he laid down a couple bills.

“Fuck you, I'm in.”

Smiling to myself, I dug in my pocket for my wallet and pulled it out.

That makes two of us. . .

Fuck it, one more and then I'm out.

Being good could wait one more day.