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Stunts by Gerald So
Officer Rick Kahana, in full patrol uniform, fell in line at the bank. On his lunch break, Kahana held a leather briefcase for his withdrawal.
He was eyeing brochures when the call came in. His cell phone was on vibrate. No one looked over as he checked its display.
SKY, N.
She wasn't supposed to call. She wasn't supposed to be late, either. He pressed SEND.
"Hey, babe. I thought we agreed––"
"I told you I was getting a tattoo. Job took longer than I thought."
She had told him; he thought she was kidding. Nina had lightning bolts on her triceps, a drop of blood below her navel, a dragon across her shoulder blades...what now?
"Did you get the spot we wanted?" Rick asked.
"Yeah, no problem."
That was all he needed to know. Nina could've ended the call, but instead she asked, "What about you? Are you ready?"
"Always."
"You wish."
Jabs like that had Rick wondering if she slept around. He kept the frustration from his voice. "I should be through in about ten minutes. How 'bout we go for fish tacos?"
"Mmm. Fish tacos. You sure know how to treat a girl."
Why the hell was she still talking? As a joke, he said, "Want me to leave the phone on so you can listen?"
"I dare you."
"You're on." He clipped the phone to his belt.
Rick and Nina met two years earlier, when he pulled her over for speeding. She was a six-foot-three stunt driver, he a six-four ex-jock. They pushed each other's buttons from day one. Their sex could light a city, but they weren't too compatible in practical matters.
Like being on time, Rick thought, and saving wireless minutes. He only let her within spitting distance of the bank because she threw a fit the night before.
"Next at Window Two?" a female teller said.
Rick stepped up and passed her the note. She read it and looked at him, blinking at his uniform.
He smiled. Everything's under control.
He brought up the briefcase and released the snaps.
The teller keyed open her register and began passing banded bills––one stack at a time––through the window slot. Rick arranged the stacks end-to-end, tallying them in his head.
The case about half full. Rick saw the teller pale. She mouthed the words, "It's empty."
Rick smiled again. He closed the case, slid it off the counter, and walked out.
Once outside, he felt the urge to run but resisted. Nina's Charger was right where he planned, engine idling. He climbed in and dumped the briefcase in back.
A minute later, moving smoothly on the highway, Nina asked, "How much?"
"Nine and a half grand."
Nina nodded, satisfied.
Out Rick's window, the Pacific was a blue blur. Looking back from the ocean, Rick eyed the speedometer.
"Ease off," he said. "We don't want to get a ticket."
Nina laughed.
"I'm serious."
"You're the boss."
When Nina hit the brakes, the Charger went into a spin. The passenger door flew open. By the time Rick remembered his seatbelt, he was out of the car, over the cliff, falling toward endless blue.
END Gerald So © 2007 |
