Susie skidded to a stop for a fourth time, her rubber-soled flats smudging black streaks on the grocery store’s waxed linoleum floor. She darted left, caught a glimpse of him shuffling past the opposite end of the ice cream aisle. Her mouthed flopped open to suck more air. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The chirping of items being rung up from the wall of checkout registers behind her bleated out as it did all day, every day. Her flaring nostrils snorted stale air conditioning and lemon floor cleaner. When she got two aisles down to the coffee, the man doubled back, so she jerked to a stop, mirrored him.
She had no
idea why she was putting so much effort into holding off this would-be bank
robber until police could arrive. It’s not like she’d receive a reward or get
to go home early. And no way her ten-fifty an hour would cover emergency
surgery if she got shot. By then, if she survived, she’d have to use her
vacation hours to make up the loss of pay. Yet, when her branch manager shouted
her name and pointed at a guy wearing all black hovering at the bank entrance, Susie
sprang into pursuit.
But who did
she think she would be protecting? The thought crossed her mind as she knocked
into and tipped over a basket display of Oreos featuring some new unholy
filling. The bank’s money was insured. Their CEO would retain his seven-figure
bonus even after resigning from the next #metoo or SEC scandal, just as the
previous three had. Her manager would still earn a fat bonus at the end of the
year based on the sales she and her fellow tellers secured through
less-than-ethical lead-getting.
Maybe her
sense of justice had kicked in, she thought. Running suicides with this guy like
she was back on her high school basketball team because someone fitting his
exact description had robbed her branch once before. Two months ago. Robbed a
few branches in their district in the meantime as well. The alert bulletin
described few details. Athletic build. Wore all black. Face masked. Nothing
more than the blurry surveillance photo showed.
The man
squeaked to a stop and took off in the opposite direction. Susie countered, her
hairline dripping with sweat.
Maybe she wanted
to be the hero. She’d never thought of herself as the type. But maybe she could
help her teller line sleep soundly again, knowing the creep who passed an eerie
note and mumbled about payback as they unloaded their cash drawers would be
locked away, thanks to her.
Susie
stopped. Lost sight of him. Or at least his blur. Panic chilled her skin. Goose
skin ran up her arms. Then, the man’s head peeked around the far end cap of the
frozen pizza aisle and her phone started buzzing in her back pocket. Her
manager would read her the riot act if she found out she kept her phone on her
person during work hours. Susie’s lip curled with the thought. She pulled out the
phone.
“Susie.
It’s me.”
“Frankie? Where
are you? I thought you were off today.”
“I mean
you’re chasing me,” he said.
“Don’t mess
with me, Frankie. This guy is trying to rob us again. I’m holding him off. Wait.
What did you say?”
“I’m the
guy, Susie. I robbed the branch last time. And those others.”
“What?!”
she screamed. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Whipped her head around to
make sure their manager wasn’t watching. “You? How? Why?”
“They treat
us like shit. I’m getting payback.”
Susie
dropped the phone and pressed it to her chest. Her breathing labored. As she took
several deep draws, she recalled how she and the other girls had given Frank
shit for being off every time the bank robber hit their district. Uncanny, they
used to joke. Real funny, she now thought. Finally, she caught her breath.
“So, what’s
your plan?”
“Just let
me run out. Before you say no, think how they treat you. I’m not the bad guy
here.”
His words
reverberated in her brain like a tuning fork.
She’d been
passed over for promotions. Trained her superiors for their managerial jobs. Worked
open to close and weekends. Then screwed out of the overtime. Threatened to be
fired several times for not gathering enough leads to open fake accounts because
she felt uneasy about the ethics involved, or lack thereof. To top it off, once
someone blew the whistle, she only received $17.13 from the employee class-action
lawsuit.
Before she
could respond, before she could agree to his plan or reengage him in their game
of cat and mouse, she caught Frankie in her periphery. His black blur streaking
through produce and out the automatic glass doors.
Thanks for sharing this story, Curtis!
ReplyDeleteIt was a pleasure, Alec!
ReplyDelete