When Leroy was a child he would sometimes go to sleep praying that one of the girls he had a crush on would come into his room. Of course it never happened. It was impossible. Most of them were barely aware of his existence. He’d grown up shy, accustomed to watching from a distance. Some day, perhaps when he least expected it, this would happen, he told himself. He just had to wish it hard enough at night, and apply himself during the day. He had no idea why he was thinking about this now, as Peter brought his Toyota to a stop in front of Pasta Pomodoro on College Avenue. This was a foreign land full of wealth and white people. Leroy had never wanted anything to do with them, and had found the world’s apparent demand that he feel otherwise mildly insulting. White people were the key to everything, according to society. Fine, Leroy silently replied to them, they would be his gateway, but not how they wanted it to be. Quite the opposite. They would be compelled to give up what they took every day. That’s what the three in the Toyota were there for tonight. It had been Leroy’s idea. There had recently been a wave of restaurant takeovers across Oakland, and he thought it was a brilliant idea. It was better than work, demeaning and frustrating as it could be. They wouldn’t see his face, but they would know what he represented. Over the years he’d grown to have much anger in him.
“You ready?” Peter asked January, who was sitting in the passenger seat.
“Born ready,” she answered.
She took her pistol out of her pocket and held it in her lap. Leroy noticed that she was trembling. A case of the nerves. He felt it too, but didn’t think it showed. None of them had ever done anything like this before.
“We goin in,” said Peter, talking to himself.
“Yes we are,” Leroy loudly insisted, believing it to be necessary. He had broken a sweat. He had his pistol in his hoodie pocket.
“Let’s put our masks on,” said Peter.
They took out their scream masks and put them on.
“You ready?” Peter asked, echoing his sentiment, weaker this time. It seemed none of them wanted to be the first out of the car.
Fine, it’ll be me, Leroy thought, and got out.
It was a cool winter night. College Avenue was lit up with Christmas lights. It was around 10:00 pm on a Thursday. Most of Oakland was getting ready to go to sleep. Those still in Pasta Pomodoro were going to receive a hard awakening.
Jan came out of the car. Peter got out on his side. The three of them approached their target. There were still a lot of customers in there. Fat lambs with bulging wallets. Leroy preferred thinking of them as quarry rather than the masters of the universe. From what he’d learned of them they had plenty to go around.
He was first in the door, and he held it open for Peter and January to go past him.
“Everybody on the motherfucking ground now!” Peter yelled, brandishing his shotgun.
There was a thud as all conversation came to a stop. As Peter and January moved out into the crowd there were a few screams, but most of them immediately did as they’d been told.
Peter continued: “Ain’t nobody get hurt if nobody do nothing funny!”
Leroy was to coral the employees. He walked quickly into the kitchen in the back end of the building.
“Come on y’all,” he shouted. “You know what this is.”
There were wide eyes amongst the overwhelmingly Latino cooks. Leroy chose one of them, a small guy wearing a hairnet, put the gun to his temple and grabbed a fistful of shirt collar.
“Come on, y’all first, into the big room.”
The employees, about ten of them, dressed in white, did as they were told. One by one they filed past him with their hands in the air.
There were probably about 25 customers, five or six servers, one host and one cashier. Except for the cashier they were all lying on the floor while Jan and Peter patrolled them.
“Listen up everybody,” Peter called. “I’ll be walking past with a garbage bag. Drop your wallet in and don’t do nothing else. You do that you leave here fine. Something else and it’s your funeral.”
“You too,” Leroy told the cooks. “Get on the floor and give us your money.”
The employees did as they were told and Leroy stood over them. Peter continued to circle the restaurant, taking victims one by one. Leroy watched Jan interact with the cashier. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but if anyone would have asked him to point out the weak link he would have said it was January. He wasn’t convinced she had the stomach for cruelty.
“No one try nothing fancy,” Peter went on. “No one call the cops.” Leroy thought it good that he kept talking to maintain his presence. Leroy would be surprised if anyone tried to cross him.
They would be out of here in a few minutes. Good thing they wore masks, because there were certainly cameras.
Jan was still talking to the cashier. There seemed an unnecessary abundance of animation between them.
“You okay sweet pea?” Leroy asked as he walked by them.
“Bitch can only give me what’s in the register,” January answered. “Says she doesn’t have the key to the safe.”
“Who does?” Leroy shot back, disappointed.
“Boris, the manager,” pleaded the cashier. “He went home already.”
“You ain’t lying to us is you?” Leroy asked.
“Not on Earth. Why would I?”
This was unfortunate. Some things were beyond planning for.
“Okay, take the register, baby,” Leroy said to January. “We’re almost done here.”
“Got it,” Peter said, approaching the front of the restaurant. “We good here.”
January, noting her partners’ impatience was quickly emptying the contents of the register into her garbage bag. The cashier got down on the floor, handed over her wallet, and folded her arms over her head.
The robbers left Pasta Pomodoro not two minutes later, apparently victorious. There was not a police car around. They got into the Toyota and fled the scene for a safe place to count their earnings.
It hadn’t been worth the risk. The haul was about $7,000 altogether, $2,330 dollars each. Leroy would be able to settle his rent a few months and pay his phone bill. Beyond that it would go fast. It wasn’t enough. They’d risked years of jail time for this payout, as if the white man had even factored in such considerations when creating his eating establishments.
The three went their separate ways home and that was the end of it. They heard nothing further about their adventure.
One of the first things Leroy spent his money on was his girl, Sally. He took her to a fancy Uptown restaurant. He ordered them a bottle of champagne and they made a night of it. Sally didn’t ask where this money had come from, but she did badger Leroy about getting a job, something sustainable. He told her that he was looking, which was, after all, the partial truth, though he’d long ago decided against going back to offloading trucks at Target.
He took her back to his apartment east of the Lake and they had a good fuck. Sally fell asleep and Leroy went into the living room and turned on the TV. He settled on Jay Leno.
All his life he’d never been happy. Today was no exception. None of his problems were solved, despite all he and Peter’s planning.
Then a commercial came on for a store in Redwood City called the Jewelry Exchange. $299 for a pair of 1-carat earrings, $399 for a 2-carat ring, $1,599 for a diamond necklace. Seeing this caused a moment of inspiration in him. Some place where the earnings were worth the risk. The Bay Area was swimming in wealth, just not where he lived. Those people could certainly take a hit or two. Perhaps Leroy was the kind of man to give it to them.
Days passed into weeks and the police never came to his door. Crimes of opportunity, such as what he, Pete and January had taken part in, happened all the time. Many of them remained unsolved. It was simply the nature of a dangerous city. A lot of people were hurting, and took such actions with a dash of desperation. Not Leroy. He wasn’t desperate. He was just getting started.
One day he met Peter for lunch at a burger joint and told him about the commercial he’d seen. Peter knew people, that’s how he’d gotten the guns. Leroy wanted to meet them. If he was going to do what he had imagined he would need more than his .22.
Unfortunately Peter wasn’t into the idea. He was still paranoid from the restaurant. He was willing, however, to set Leroy up with someone.
“I want an AK,” Leroy told Pete.
“I’m sure they can help you with that.”
“And why not you? Come on man, these are victimless crimes.”
“Less the police get you, then you the victim.”
“Just wear gloves and a mask. Park around the block. Ain’t nobody gonna find shit on you.”
“And what if traffic cameras see your car?”
“Ditch it somewhere, nigga.”
“I guess you got it all figured out.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Them’s rich folks you messing with. Society folks. They want consequences for things like you saying.”
“I ain’t in on it.
“Then just let me meet the folks that are.”
“Give me $100 and we have something to talk about.”
“Oh yeah?” Leroy smiled. “That how it is?”
“I ain’t in this for charity, nigga.”
Leroy took another bite of his burger and washed it down with a swallow of iced tea. Then he went into his wallet and took out five twenties. He handed the money to Peter, who took a business card out of his pocket and slid it across the table.
“This guy can help you,” Peter said. “I wash my hands of it. Don’t mention my name.”
“Then mention what?”
“Say these words, exactly: ‘Today’s a cold day in hell.’”
“A cold day in hell?”
“Yup. ‘Today’ first. Just like that.”
Leroy put the business card in his pocket. It was simply a name, Jesús Benzinos, and a phone number.
“Who is he?” Leroy asked.
“I never asked. He’s the one got us our guns. Please don’t mention my name. Just agree to meet him.”
“How he know I ain’t police?”
“I don’t think they’re that worried about it.”
“Huh. Funny. Easy.”
The waitress came back with their check, and Leroy offered to pay for it.
When they finished eating they embraced warmly before parting. They would never see each other again.
They met at midnight at a park on the waterfront, next to a building Leroy knew to be the home of KTVU Channel 2. His mother had been a typist there for a spell when he was a kid. He’d been inside a few times. If Jesús, the man who had answered his phone call, thought the park was safe he was probably right. He had sounded Mexican. Maybe he was with the cartels. A better class of criminal.
Leroy parked his car and got out. He walked into the park, which had a green area and a set of picnic tables near the water. He saw dark figures standing next to these. They stood at what looked like attention as he approached.
“Policia?” one of them called out.
“No not me,” Leroy replied diplomatically.
“I believe you,” said another.
Leroy came to a stop. He didn’t have a good view of any of them.
“What do you want?” Leroy heard.
At first he didn’t know what to say, and told himself to be honest.
“I got an idea,” he said.
There was a pause.
“Tell us then.”
Leroy took a deep breath: “I’m gonna knock off a jewelry store in Redwood City. But I need a bigger gun to do it.”
“The Jewelry Exchange. They have commercials on TV. Thousand of dollars in diamonds. I’m gonna take all I can get.”
“And how you going to do this?”
“With a gun and a bag, how else?”
One of them laughed.
“This is not a plan, amigo.”
“Well I’m gonna visit them first. The whole point is just not to get caught afterwards, and I don’t think I will be.”
“What makes you sure?”
“Gangsters and kids playing with this stuff are scared and stupid. I won’t be.”
“Will you kill someone?”
“If I have to.”
“We hope you won’t.”
“So do I.”
Leroy’s heart was racing and he wished it wasn’t. He was sweating in his coat. Perhaps he wasn’t as cool under pressure as he wanted to be.
The figures turned towards each other and spoke quietly in Spanish. This went on for maybe a minute.
“Okay, young man,” said one of them. “We help you. We have people and weapons. What do you want?”
“An AK-47,” he said without hesitation.
“This we have. Do you have $1,000?”
“And why don’t we just take it from you?”
“Because I won’t give it up without a fight.”
“You are quite brave, no?”
“Do you need people? A driver? This we have also.”
“And who will buy the diamonds once you have them?”
“I guess I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have them for a while. Pawn shops, piece by piece.”
“So there are some things you don’t consider.”
“Only what I think I have to.”
“Why don’t you ask us?”
“Ask you what?”
“If we will buy the diamonds.”
“Will you buy the diamonds?” Leroy thought prudent to be as up-front as possible.
“We may. We might. Is something we will think about, okay?”
“Now, let us see about your brand new weapon. AK-47. We have it.”
One of the figures produced a duffel bag, unzipped it and brought out what Leroy could tell even in the dark was a rifle.
“We have this and clips of ammunition, which we pray you do not use.”
“So do I.”
“Give us money.”
“Put the gun down on the ground. I won’t run off with it.”
He tried to control his breathing. He didn’t think his nerves were obvious. He took a wad of cash out of his sweater pocket. Almost half of what he’d gotten at Pasta Pomodoro.
“Here is your new weapon, señor. Give me money.”
Leroy handed him the cash, knelt down and picked up the gun.
“So you want a driver?” Leroy heard.
“Depends how much he costs.”
“Let’s say this. One quarter of what you take.”
“That sounds fair, and useful.”
“We have your phone number. He will call you tomorrow, and we believe no policia will know any of this.”
“I hope so too.”
“They are plague. We hate them, but we can’t kill them.”
“Probably a good idea.”
His eyes were adjusted to the dark, but he still couldn’t see their faces.
“You leave now. We see you soon enough,” one of them intoned.
“Just don’t shoot me in the back, okay?”
“We don’t deal in death so lightly.”
Leroy turned and left the park. When he got home he puked his dinner into the toilet bowl, and prayed that he was making the right decision. Of course the only way to know was to try. And what did he have to lose, after all?
The next day he drove to Redwood City to get an idea of the store. They had a young Asian man working security, but from what Leroy could tell he was their only layer of protection.
He browsed the displays. While much of their wares were laid out in the open, begging to be taken, some of it was behind glass, which made it only marginally more difficult. He found himself enthralled at the retail prices: $699, $1,799, $2,299. The diamonds glittered in the mix of lamp and natural light. Why had no one done anything like this before? Why hadn’t the store wised up? He supposed this quiet town on the Peninsula was a world away from East Oakland. Perhaps he was to be a pioneer of a kind: the first man to bring a place down. And then he could lay back with his riches, maybe for years. None of that small change bullshit. He would be good for quite some time. The worst thing that could happen would be if he were arrested or if he killed someone. If he went in tough and singular of purpose he was reasonably confident he could avoid both. And this, as opposed to the restaurant, would be worth the risk.
Sally came over that night and he made dinner. They sat next to each other watching TV on the couch while they ate. After the news was over The Simpsons came on. Leroy liked that show.
When the commercials came on he said: “I’ve got to tell you something.”
“What’s up?” she answered.
“Me and another guy, we’re gonna try something.”
She looked at him and said nothing for a spell, then: “You want me to worry?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Might be a little… ambitious.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t think I’m gonna tell you. I think you’d try to talk me out of it.”
“What, is that what you want?”
He dipped his toast in the clam chowder and took a bite. Now he wished he hadn’t brought it up. But, perhaps more than he would like to admit, Sally was important to him.
“Is that how you took me out last week?” she asked.
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have told me.”
“What’s it to you? I’m just your side nigga.”
“You think I don’t care about you? I do.”
“I go away you find someone better the next day.”
“So now you going away?”
“I told you, I don’t know. Call it possible.”
“No I ain’t.”
“Then why you do shit you don’t have to?”
“Because I fucking want to. What, you happy working at Safeway?”
“It’s what you do. People work. They do things they don’t want to. They don’t do things just to do it.”
“I’ve got a plan.”
“I bet you do. But why even tell me if you don’t want me to say something?”
“Let’s just drop it.”
“You seem resolved.”
“Well whatever it is I’m keeping my conscience clean. Whatever it is, don’t do it.”
He sighed. He took the mute off the commercials when the show came back on.
She was looking at him, but he didn’t know what to say. He looked back at her for a little while, then dropped his eyes. Perhaps she didn’t care that much, because she didn’t say anything further to him, but, after they finished eating, she left without saying another word. It weighed on his spirit to wonder if that was the end of them. He’d spoken the truth: she was a good looking woman. She could easily find someone more deserving.
He jerked off to porn then went to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. The big day was tomorrow. Somehow your body always makes things as difficult as possible. He would make himself a big pot of coffee before he went to pick up Martín. That would have to do in place of sleep.
Before he knew it the early morning sun was shining through his window. Time to get going.
Eyes heavy and puffy he made breakfast and coffee, then he gathered his scream mask, his AK-47 and .22, and a large duffel bag. He wished himself luck, as there was nothing further to do.
“I don’t know why I brought you,” Leroy said while they were on the San Mateo Bridge. “I can drive just fine myself.”
“Then why did you?” Martín asked.
“I think I just said. I don’t know. The presence of a partner maybe. No one likes facing danger alone.”
“I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Have you ever done something like this before?”
“And how did it turn out?”
“I’m still here aren’t I?”
“I’m not sure that answers my question.”
It was a beautiful, sun-soaked day. The waters of the Bay sparkled when Leroy looked out over them.
He began to pray. He told himself to be prepared to inflict violence, but not to seek it out. That might be a very important step, though he knew from movies and television that these sorts of stores were heavily insured, and the staff was trained not to put up resistance. It wasn’t any of their money being taken, what did they care? Leroy would take the security guard first. That was probably enough.
“I’m gonna ditch this car once we’re done,” Leroy said. “In case you wondering.”
“Is it in your name?”
“I bought it off Craigslist last week. Ain’t no problem.”
“I’m gonna be rich after today. I’ll afford a car or even two easy.”
“You seem to have thought of everything.”
Martín’s impeccable manners were moderately disturbing. He was made of a different breed than Peter or January. Maybe for him this was just another Monday. A true professional. You needed a steady hand. He offered that, if nothing else.
Before long they’d crossed the bridge, and Martín turned them onto Highway 101 South. Traffic was relatively light.
They reached Redwood City. Martín seemed to know the directions. The Jewelry Exchange was located in what passed for the suburb’s downtown, a glorified strip mall. There was parking just down the street from the store.
Leroy pulled the duffel bag up onto his lap and put on his mask. He held the AK-47 in his lap and fondled its stock.
“Keep the car running,” he said.
Leroy drummed his gloved fingers on the gun. These next few moments might well be the most important of his life. He had to do it well.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Just do it, man. And quickly.”
“Hurt someone if you have to.”
“I’m way ahead of you.”
Then Leroy got out of the car and jogged down the street, past several pedestrians, to the glass doors of the Jewelry Exchange. He went through them, brandishing the gun. On a whim, and perhaps unwisely, his finger found the trigger and he let off several shots into the air.
“Get the fuck on the ground!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “Ain’t nobody got to get hurt!”
Five minutes later he crashed back into the car.
“Go motherfucker!” he yelled, and Martín pulled out onto the street and accelerated through the green light.
Leroy was panting heavily, trying to recreate the last five minutes in his mind, which were already almost lost to him.
“Did you hurt anybody?” Martín asked.
“I hit the security guard in the face with the AK. I think I busted his nose.”
“That might have been wise.”
“I took everything I could. Broke some display cases and just swept it all in. We’re gonna be some rich motherfuckers.”
“That’s what we came for.”
Martín got them back onto 101.
“Where you goin?” Leroy asked.
“We’re gonna drive down to San Jose then get on 880 North.”
“Better than the bridges?”
“Just to be safe. There’s no escape on the bridges.”
“This what I’m paying you for, huh?”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You better. Twenty-five percent ain’t gonna be pocket change.”
Leroy rolled down the window and stuck his arm over the side. The cool air felt good. His breathing became steadier. His heartbeat began to moderate. It had gone about as he felt it should have.
He stripped off the mask and dropped it out the window.
“Have you ever been to prison?” Martín asked.
“Despite our precautions it’s possible it will be in our future.”
“You never know what might happen. You fired shots. You hurt someone. That will add to your sentence.”
“How they gonna catch me now? No one knows shit about me. I think it went well.”
“Still, it’s best to keep an open mind.”
“I’ll take that under consideration.”
He wondered how much was in the duffel bag. So many diamonds.
Martín said, “What you doing with what you took?”
“I don’t know.”
They found I-880 North. They’d passed a few cops already, and Leroy had felt a minor panic every time.
The two were silent for most of the rest of the drive. When they passed through San Leandro into Oakland Leroy asked where they were going to leave the car.
“Near the park where we met you the other night. Don’t come back to it. It’s tainted.”
“And how am I goin to pay you?”
“Our people are meeting us there. They’ll tell you.”
“And the gun?”
“Into the Bay it goes.”
“Trust us. We know better than you.”
Martín took the 5th Avenue exit onto Embarcadero, and then a right. The park was only a few blocks away.
Leroy opened the duffel bag and looked into it. It sparkled with wealth and broken glass. It was hard to tell the two apart.
Martín brought the car to a stop on Embarcadero in a neighborhood of factories and warehouses. There were three Mexican-looking figures standing nearby. They turned towards the car.
“These are my brothers,” said Martín. “Come join us.”
Leroy felt his nerves again.
“What are they doing here?”
“I told you. Selling the diamonds. We can help.”
Martín got out of the car, walked forward, stood in front of it, then turned towards Leroy, who had still not gotten out of the car. Martín put on what Leroy believed to be one of the least friendly smiles he’d ever seen.
“Come on, my friend,” said Martín. “We’re here to help.”
“Drop your gun into the Bay,” said a voice that Leroy recognized from the other night.
This is not right, something in Leroy’s mind whispered, causing him panic.
“Come on,” said Martín. “What are you waiting for?”
The AK was too big. Leroy would need something more subtle. Fortunately he had the answer.
He got out of the car, pulled out his .22, and fired at the Mexicans.
One shot hit Martín in the chest, another shot hit one of the Mexicans in the shoulder, driving him back. Another Mexican pulled out a weapon but Leroy shot him in the head before he could aim it. The third one took off running, and Leroy quickly lost track of him.
The one he’d hit in the shoulder was down on one knee, and as Leroy approached he turned up his face, revealing a grin.
“Smarter than you look,” he said before Leroy shot him in the face.
He found himself alone, standing over three dead bodies with a smoking gun in his hand. He took it and the AK to the water and threw them in. Then he gathered the bag of diamonds and walked quickly up 3rd Avenue. Now, he told himself, he had some packing to do.
Despite her best efforts Sally found herself thinking of Leroy. She’d missed not fucking him the other night. Somehow she was unsurprised to find him sitting on her stoop when she came home from work.
“Hey girl,” he said simply, looking at her with kind eyes. From that look alone she began to wonder if he loved her.
“Hey yourself,” she answered.
She walked past him and unlocked her front door. She turned back towards him and found him standing. He was wearing what looked to be a heavily packed backpack, and was carrying a black duffel bag. Now he looked mildly self-conscious.
“You coming in or what?” she asked.
She held the door for him and he went past her. She shut and locked it behind him. Something about this was not right, not like Leroy. She quickly found herself becoming angry.
“I’m leaving town,” he said to her as she turned to look at him. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“How romantic of you.”
“Shut up,” he said. “I know how I look.”
“Did you kill somebody?” she shot the question without thinking too much about it.
He didn’t answer, and she was horrified at her intuition. He seemed to be trying to smile at her, and that, of course, just made it worse.
“My God,” she said. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“They had it coming.”
“They? They? Why didn’t you just get a job like anybody else?”
“I’ve tried that before.”
“Where you going?”
“It’s probably best I don’t tell you.”
“You right. It probably is.”
He pulled his duffel bag to his front. She turned her head away so she wouldn’t see what was in it. She heard him unzip it and there was some quasi-musical clinking as he shuffled through its contents.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did as he bid and there he was, holding a pair of diamond earrings.
“Pretty ain’t they?” he said.
She was furious. This really was his goodbye.
“I don’t want them,” she fired, fury in her eyes.
“Just take them. Ain’t no one gonna know they from me.”
“I know where they from.”
“No you don’t. You ask me the folks I took it from had it coming too. I’m a rich man now. Now I call the shots.”
“Not here you don’t. Put that shit away.”
She spun on her heel and stormed into the kitchen of a house honestly rented, and poured herself a glass of milk, bought honestly. A voice in her mind, mischievous, asked her if she really cared so much about that.
Footsteps came up behind her. When she turned around he was only steps away from her, kindness still in his posture.
“You sure you ain’t want em?” he asked. “Something to remember me by?”
“I’ll remember you on my own. Don’t know if that’s good or not.”
He was still holding the earrings.
“Put them away,” she said, and, with a hangdog expression, he did as she said.
She put down the glass of milk, then reached out and put her hand behind his neck and pulled him to her. From there on the afternoon was a bit of a blur.
Except for Sally there’d been nothing keeping him in Oakland. Except for Sally it wasn’t hard saying goodbye.
He worried a bit that the Mexicans might have someone waiting for him at the Greyhound station, as it was perhaps an obvious place to find him. He was relieved to buy his ticket and board the bus without incident.
It was uncomfortable and smelt of farts and mildew. It was about 15 hours to Las Vegas, down I-5 through the Central Valley, a transfer in Bakersfield, and then East on I-15.
This was his first time he’d left the Bay Area. He stared out the windows at the changing landscape, first the East Bay suburbs behind, then through the stockyards, cows, smelly, packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Beyond Oakland there were strange sights to be seen indeed.
Before long he was in Vegas. He had kept the duffel bag on his person rather than trust it to the luggage compartment.
He didn’t know where to go next. He supposed the obvious thing to do would be to get himself a cheap hotel room, one thing he had felt confident he would be able to find in Sin City.
Indeed it was no problem. He rented out a room in a building attached to the Luxor just around the corner from the flashing technicolor Strip.
Once established there he put a fistful of diamonds in his pocket and left to explore his near environment for pawn shops. He found one, staffed by a swarthy man with black hair and an accent, who took this part of his haul off his hands for $2,000. That should last for a while, Leroy thought.
The smart thing, he realized, would be to buy himself a computer, a laptop, so he could research the value of the rest of the jewelry, and also find himself more permanent housing. The information desk receptionist told him where to find an Apple store. By the end of the day he had a brand new iBook. He knew nothing of computers, had never owned one before, but he was particularly proud of himself for this acquisition. He returned to his room with a smile on his face. After all, he was rich now. The thing to become next was intelligent. He would be careful with how he handled what was left.
As if to spite this realization he spent the next day losing $250 in Luxor’s casino. When in Rome. There was something extremely liberating about his current situation. He could do whatever he wanted. How much was the rest of his haul worth? He felt little remorse for the Mexicans he’d killed. Maybe, someday, he would see Sally again. That too was something to look forward to.
He got to know his computer and searched Craigslist for nearby rentals. He found one on the north side of town, a room in a townhouse for $500 a month. He sold a few more pieces at another pawn shop so he could afford first, last, and deposit. He liked the place. He would be sharing it with a black couple whose kid had just left home. They didn’t ask many questions of him and he asked few of them. It was perfect. He took his few belongings there and then lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
That night, once again, he couldn’t asleep. What would he do with himself, in this unfamiliar place? When the diamonds ran out he might look for a way to get more. But that was a problem for another day. For now, he should just try to relax.
He rolled onto his side, thought of Sally’s beautiful body and how she’d looked at him, so disapproving, the last time he’d seen her. It was not exactly a comforting thought.
Then, gradually, he was asleep, and the world before him scared him less than it ever had before.