7days7authors

Friday: "Heist" by PeterWKnox (part I)

THE ANXIETY making her rattle the coffee cup wasn’t due to the caffeine. In fact, the coffee was weak. Normally she didn’t even need coffee to make it to her lunch break, but the fourth man in line was making her nervous. They had to expect an extra influx of people before lunch – especially on Fridays. Everyone was eager to cash their paychecks and take the afternoon off, and she wished businesses would learn to hold off on giving out checks until later in the day, but it would only delay the rush. From her teller window against the far wall of the one room rectangular bank, the lines of people stretched the entire way across the tiled floor. The four teller windows were all in a row along the back with plush rope defined funnels in front of each, leaving the one security guard to monitor the traffic.

The First Morgantown Bank was the largest bank in the busy county and the last Friday of every month was the worst time to work. She didn’t know how many people realized the trucks came the following Monday to transfer the spillover additional funds from the bank, but it was always in the back of her mind. Each frustrated businessman fumbling for a deposit slip triggers a silent panic attack in the back of her head that makes her practically expect to look up from her teller window and freeze in the sights of a shiny gun barrel every time she says, “Next.”

Josh

HE WAS looking forward to the weekend. The check made out to Josh Witner stood in the way of joining his fiancé for a weekend in the mountains. Cliché, yes, but so was waiting in line at the bank on a Friday when everyone just wants to go home – including the slow teller. How is it when you’re in a hurry, the person in front of you always takes their time, or is that the only time you’re actually paying attention?

Benny

THIS WAS hardly the first time Benny was in the First Morgantown Bank but it was going to be the last. You only get one chance to rob a bank these days. For a month he’d been there everyday mentally recording the shift changes, security procedures, handling of money, floor managers, and bank tellers. There wasn’t a face Benny didn’t recognize or a system in place he didn’t already know about, but something about this day was different. The twelve pounds of metal hanging between his legs might be it.

The bank was crowded enough that his presence would be routinely ignored by security as he moved into position along the six teller windows. This job would be perfect – he only needed the money to live off of and medium sized banks can usually only afford small sized security teams. This Friday job was no coincidence; Benny knew the bank’s surplus at the end of the month meant the end of his financial problems. Fridays were perfect because as everyone would be getting off work to eat lunch, his day would just be starting, and his job only took four minutes.

Unconsciously registering the lonesome security camera overlooking the teller area, Benny walked to wait at the window furthest from the door. Amateurs usually go for the quickest exit, but Benny knew banks always put the “teller in training” at the last window and it takes less time to bully a register rookie into opening the drawers than a surly veteran. And time was all that mattered when county police don’t have anything better to do on a Friday afternoon than put a career bank robber in prison for good.

Jackson

JACKSON WAITED in his idling sedan outside First Morgantown Bank, nervously flicking the safety of his 9MM. On and off. On and off. It wasn’t that he wanted to rob banks; he just didn’t want to work. Tomorrow would be a year since his father kicked him out of the house because he would never fuck the prom queen. The prom queen was his best friend – the problem was that Jackson was more interested in the prom king.

He met Benny at a diner a few months after being on his own and decided he’d rather live in Benny’s spare room than his car. They went to the gun range every weekend and Jackson rarely missed putting bullet after bullet through pictures of his father’s real estate calendar photo. And when Benny said Jackson needed to pretend the bank security camera was his dad or find a new friend, Jackson found himself sitting anxiously in the car that Friday afternoon counting off the seconds in his mind.

Martin

MARTIN THUMPED the steering wheel in beat with his pounding heart, a cigarette dangling between his lips, ash spilling unnoticed onto his denim lap. He was a driver in as much as everyone with a license was a driver, but he wasn’t here for Benny – he was here for Jackson. As bad as Jackson resented his father, Martin yearned for Jackson’s acceptance and while Jackson could shoot, Martin could only drive.

To his right, Jackson flicked the safety to on and replaced the handgun in his pants. Rising out of his seat, he leaned in to kiss Martin goodbye between cigarettes. Ignoring his lingering farewell, Jackson closed the car door and positioned sunglasses on his face. Martin returned his gaze forward as his fluttering hands lit another cigarette and resumed their drumming on the steering wheel.

Benny

INCHING FORWARD, Benny was next in line at the last window. The guy ahead of him was making small talk with the blonde teller as she was counting out his paycheck in fresh twenties. Benny’s eyes surveyed the crowded bank, knowing the current staff were moments from being replaced by the lunch crew. His left hand steadily fingered the heavy firearm taped to his leg, incapable of doing anything else. Finally the man stepped to the side and Benny was motioned to approach the window. Smiling at the blonde woman putting down her coffee cup, Benny slid a piece of paper under the glass.