Reel to Real (10 page)

“I figured this was gonna happen,” Stewart said. “He seen us, I know it. We got too close behind. He already seen us.”

“You’re nuts, Stewart,” Esther said. “We haven’t gotten anywhere near him. There’s no way he saw us.”

The plan, once the manager got out of his car, was for Stewart to hit him with a tire iron and grab the money bag. Shane would duct tape him and Esther would drive them the hell out of there. The problem, however, was that the guy wasn’t going to the bank.

So they continued to tail him and Stewart continued his paranoia. “He’s on to us, I tell ya. He seen us,” he kept saying, craning his neck every which way. Stewart grabbed Shane’s shoulder and pulled at it, eyes large and white. “He knows we’re following him, man. That’s why he ain’t going to the bank. He might’ve even called the cops when he was in the Walmart.”

Esther glared at Stewart. He kept saying stuff about them being spotted by the manager and it was making her heart beat too fast. She told him to shut up, but he didn’t.

“I think we better stop following this fucker and get outta here,” Stewart said, picking at a scab on his forehead that already looked infected. “If we don’t back off right now, he’s gonna see our license and then that’s it man, we’re fucked.”

At that, Esther pulled the car over to the curb and put her hands over her ears.

Shane, faced with personnel problems and a deteriorating plan, turned his head in both directions, trying to determine if there was any validity to Stewart’s statements; trying to think.

“Let’s forget it,” Shane said at last. “It’s not working. We’ll just can it for tonight and go piss all over his place tomorrow.”

***

Raina knew it was impossible for anyone to really know a person until they lived with them, but still, she couldn’t believe how badly she had misjudged Shane. The more time she spent with him, the more she discovered he was quite the truth bender, or “slick talker,” as she liked to call him.

Even though he eventually admitted he lied about Tibet, it didn’t stop him from spinning further fabrications. Like telling everyone he still worked at PNM, or that his dad was the sheriff of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.

At first she was upset that he lied about Tibet, but in the end, she was heartened that he came clean. He even revealed to her he had been in prison during the time in question.

For selling LSD to a cop.

February 23, 1996 MIDNIGHT

On a cold and clear night, Shane and Esther once again sat in the parking lot across the street from Mac’s Steak in the Rough. This time they were in Shane’s black Fiero and there was no Stewart. Shane had decided that Stewart was indeed too hyper. His excessive paranoia wasn’t worth any benefit he might possibly have provided. This time it would be just the two of them. Shane needed to get this done, and Esther was nothing if not compliant.

Esther and Shane watched the employees leave one by one, until only the manager was left.  He should have come out by now. Shane tightened his jaw and stared hard at the door. Nothing.

“We gotta go in and get him,” Shane said, looking at his watch.

Tonight’s plan had been to jump the manager from behind as soon as he came outside and then grab the money.

However, once again, the manager had his own agenda. For whatever reason, he did not come out of the restaurant.

Shane knew it was not prudent to stay in any one spot for too long. He did not want to arouse the suspicion of anyone who might be paying attention.

“We gotta go in,” he repeated.

“Inside the restaurant?”

“Yup.”

“How we gonna do that?” Esther asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Well, we gotta get him to open the door somehow,” Esther said, attempting to problem-solve.

“Yeah, we gotta figure out how we can get him to let
us
in.” Shane stroked the whiskers on his chin.

“Well, maybe I could just run up to the door and act like I’m in trouble,” Esther offered.

“Hmm? That might work.” Shane chewed his lower lip, thinking. “Yeah, okay. Why not?  Let’s try it. You got your gun?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, take it and do what you gotta do to get us inside. Once you got the gun on him, make him get down on all fours. Then grab him by the collar and walk him to the door. Like a dog.  Make sure he looks down, down at the ground,” Shane pointed. “I don’t want him seeing me. At all. Tell him, no lookin’ up. Comprende, Esther?” His blue eyes boring in on her.

Esther nodded. Dressed in a green checkered winter jacket and blue jeans, she got out of the car, jogged across the street and banged on the side security door.

“Help!” she shrieked, ruffling her hair and disheveling herself at the same time. “My boyfriend’s after me. He’s trying to kill me.” Esther made appropriate horrified facial expressions as she continued to call out. “Help. Can I use your phone? Ple-eease. I need to call the cops. Hel-lp
me!
”

The manager came to the door and looked out. It was dark. Standing on the other side of the glass was an older looking, heavy-set woman, flapping her arms and screaming. She rapped her fist on the door and yelled that she was being followed. The manager hesitated and looked around, hesitated again, and, finally opened the door and let her in.

He walked to the front of the restaurant, toward the phone, which confused Esther. She realized she needed to clarify her true intent and pulled out her real-looking fake gun. His eyes got big and his mouth got small. Esther pushed the gun barrel into his stomach and told him to stop walking.

“Okay, hold it right there, mister,” she said. “Don’t say nothing and don’t do nothing unless I tell you, and you won’t get hurt. I don’t need your fucking phone. This is a robbery. Get it? Now get down on your fucking hands and knees.” He did. “I need you to crawl back over to the door where we came in.”

The manager froze. He was on the floor but he wasn’t crawling. Esther knew she needed to get him moving or Shane was going to be mad … at her. She touched the gun to his head. “Did you hear me? I said crawl to the door.
”

The manager raised his head slightly, perhaps to speak, but Esther pushed him down with the palm of her hand and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“I said keep your fucking head down, mister. Don’t look up. Don’t make it worse on yourself.” She tried to sound fierce.

***

As the manager looked down at the dirty floor, he heard the side-door open and the sound of approaching footsteps.

At the sound, the woman pushed his head downward again.

“Keep it down,” she said.

The footsteps came to a stop in front of him. He saw a pair of white sneakers.

“Is he being a good boy?” he heard a man ask in a flat voice.

“Pretty good,” the woman replied.

“Gimme the gun,” the man said

Out of the corner of his eye, the manager saw the gun changing hands. The man pressed the gun into the manager’s neck.

“Okay, dude … I want you over by the bathroom,” he said. “And keep your fucking head down. Do
not
look up. Don’t even
try
lookin’up. If I see you eyeballing me I’m going to shoot you.”

The manager took a breath and crawled, head down, to just outside the restroom and waited for his next instruction.

“Okay, weasel, get flat on your stomach, with your hands laced behind you.”

The manager complied and went flat.

“Good,” the man said and then bound the manager’s hands and ankles with duct tape. The manager groaned in pain.

Peripherally, the manager saw the woman banging on the drive-thru cash register. She couldn’t open it. She called out for help and the manager told her to turn the key so it lined up with the dots. The blue dot on the left needed to match up perfectly with the blue dot on the right and then it would open. The manager heard her rapidly hitting buttons and swearing at the cash register.

“Where’s the safe?” the man called out.

“It’s in the small office between the kitchen and the storage room,” the manager said, lifting his chin slightly off the floor to speak. “Underneath the desk. It’s not locked. I didn’t lock it yet.”

Esther called out for more cash register instructions. The manager talked her through the procedure again.

“The blue dots have to match up exactly,” he repeated.

Finally, he heard the register pop open and the drawer being rifled through. He hoped they would leave soon. Heavy footsteps walked toward him and the manager instinctively tried to look up.

“What are you doing?” the man asked, annoyed. “I told you if you see my face, you’re a dead man.” The man pushed the manager’s head down with his shoe.

The manager tried to say “sorry,” but his mouth hit the floor.

“I already know all kinds of shit about you, you know?” the man said. “I know the places you go, I know what you do after work, I even know where you live. I know you went to Walmart last night. I know you drive a tan Toyota Corolla and I know you live on Baldwin Avenue. If I hear about you putting out any kind of description about what either one of us looks like, we
will
find you and take you out,” the man said, and then added, “
and
your family, too.”

“I understand,” the manager said, heart pounding.

Before leaving, the man put duct tape over the manager’s mouth and eyes.

“I hope you got a good bladder, dude,” the man laughed. “'Cause no one’s gonna find you 'til breakfast.” He reached down and patted the manager on top of his head, laughed again, and walked out.

***

Shane couldn’t blame his parents. They gave him everything they could. Things, attention, love. It was just that he liked being bad more than he liked being good.

In high school, he didn’t excel in anything obvious. No football, no band, no chess club. He felt excluded, and that bothered him. Some of his classmates called him a wimp.

Then one day a neighbor kid dared him to jump-start a car and take it for a joyride. He did, and the most amazing thing happened — even though he got caught. He enjoyed every minute of it. Even though he wasn’t that crazy about seeing the judge, or the grounding he got from his parents, he found  that he liked breaking the law. He thought it might even be his calling.

He also enjoyed the bad-boy attention that came with it. One of the hot chicks in his class  slipped him her phone number the week after he got busted.
Who’s the wimp now?
he thought.

Ever since then, every time he pulled a job or even just got away with some whopper of a lie, his self-esteem escalated. He didn’t know why, exactly, he only knew he never felt more alive.

***

Shane was in a good mood when he and Esther got back to his apartment. He even whistled while counting the stolen money from Mac’s Steak in the Rough. It totaled $980.

He carefully split the money into three piles, but they weren’t exactly even. He explained to Esther that her share was a little bit less because he paid for gas. Since one of the shares was set aside for John, she didn’t care.

Shane and Esther agreed they were too pumped up to sleep, so when they were done dividing the money, they watched a movie to take the edge off. Shane had rented a flick earlier in the day that he was hot to watch. It was his favorite kind of movie: rated “R” for violence.

Night turned into morning and the two of them drove to Jewel Osco, a drug store containing a Western Union office. This was the second time Esther had gone to Jewel Osco with Shane, to wire money to John. Both times Shane did not allow her to go into the office with him while he wired the funds. He told her she had to stay in the car.

February 24, 1996

Pueblo, CO

While working the day shift at Furr’s Cafeteria, Crystal got a call from John. He needed a favor. As usual. He wanted her to pick up a money order for him that was coming in to the King Supers grocery store. She told him it would be inconvenient for her. She said she would have to do it on her lunch half-hour, and even beyond that, she would have to find someone to give her a ride, which might be impossible.

John suggested she walk there.

“No, I can’t walk there,” she said, aggravated. “Supers is like two miles away and it’s freaking cold outside. I don’t have time to be walking anywhere.”

“I hear ya, babe,” John said.“I know it’s bad timing but I’m stretched thin. I need it now. I owe a couple of guys and if I don’t get my hands on some green pretty quick I’m gonna have more shit coming at me than I know what to do with. I can meet you down there.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said reluctantly.

After asking everyone at the restaurant, she was finally able to talk a sixteen-year-old busboy named Jimmy into giving her a ride. She had to promise him two dollars for gas money when she got paid the Tuesday after next.

As soon as Jimmy pulled up to the King Supers, Crystal jumped out of the car and dashed inside. She knew if she didn’t get herself back from lunch on time she risked the ire of her by-the-book supervisor.

As directed, she went to the customer service window to pick up a wire for $200. The money order was made out to her even though the funds were for John. That’s the way it had been the last time, too.

“Would you like to cash that here, Miss?” the King Supers clerk asked.

“Yes, please,” Crystal said.

Crystal signed the money order and showed her ID. The clerk informed Crystal she needed to replenish her till and called for help. Crystal impatiently tapped her long, freshly painted fingernails on the counter while she waited.

The front-end supervisor eventually showed up and handed the clerk a stack of twenties. The clerk counted the bills out to Crystal, who grabbed the cash and rushed out the door. John, thankfully, was already in the parking lot.

He walked towards her and, on the dead run, she handed him the money, leaping into Jimmy’s car, still determined to clock back in at Furr’s on time.

“He that's cheated twice by the same man is an accomplice with the cheater.”

T
HOMAS
F
ULLER