Vegas It Is

The white van goes barging down the empty city street.  The sun shines off the metal walls on either side of the van.  Most of these warehouses have been abandoned for years which makes it the perfect place for this venture without the prying eyes of nosey neighbors.  

The van hits a pothole but doesn’t slow down.  The van makes another turn.  And the three men sitting on the floor of the back of the van are tossed to the side, but their stern faces do not change.  

Each one of them knows, the job is not over until their pay has been divided up and they are back to living their separate lives.  The floor of the van is littered with clown masks.  Masks that will be burned later that evening. 

The roll up door of a warehouse opens and the van pulls in.  Inside the van is dark but seconds later the backdoor opens and the three men hop out one by one, leaving the masks behind.    

“That was close,” Andy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  He was the first one out of the van. He grips tight to the handles of a black duffle bag.  The bag they all put their lives at risk for.

“Next time, we need to move quicker.  Speed is key. Spider, you need more control over the teller,” Jeff points his index finger up into Spider’s face.  His small stature makes him great for getting into safes low to the ground but it does not increase his intimidation factor.  “You can’t let them take their time like this teller did.  That is death for us.”

“What do you expect me to do?  I was pushing her as fast as I could,” Spider points down at Jeff’s face.  “Maybe you should have shot someone.  That would get them to move faster.”  A smirk comes across Spider’s face and the tattoos around his eyes crinkle. 

“Enough,” Rodrigo says, “Let’s count this shit, divy it up, and get the fuck out of here.”

“Shut up, Rodrigo!  Your only job is to get the van into this warehouse,”  Spider says now turned toward Rodrigo.  Jeff raises his eyebrows toward Rodrigo.  But Rodrigo just shakes his head.  It is true that he is always the driver but everyone also knows that the only reason they can pull these heists off is because of Rodrigo.  

Rodrigo’s large stature doesn’t allow him to do much else.  But the main reason he drives is that when Rodrigo is involved, he does all the planning.  And in his plans he is always the driver.  And no one can argue with that.

An hour later the four men are sitting around a table that once housed the warehouse break room but has, for the past week, acted as the planning office for this heist. 

“So that makes a total of $12,600,” Rodrigo is typing away at a calculator the size of a deck of cards and Andy wonders how his fat fingers avoid mistakes, “which is $3,150 for each of us.”   

As Rodrigo starts counting out the money for each of the men, Andy’s mind continues to wander.   This was supposed to be his last bank robbery.  But the one last month was supposed to be the last one too.  And the one a few weeks before that was supposed to be his last.  Each time, Andy is promised that this heist will be different. This heist will be bigger than the last, but it never is.  

The job gives him the flexibility he craves, but at a few grand a pop, the risk is higher than the reward.  It is just a matter of time before he gets caught and his flexibility is replaced with time behind bars.  He knows it’s better to quit while he is ahead.  But he has not made enough money to retire and he doesn’t have any other skills unless you want to count asking, “Do you want fries with that?” And the time to make over $3,000 doing that is practically the same as time behind bars.

Andy collects his pay after the other three have collected their small piles.  Spider and Jeff are well on their way out the door, arms around each other, chatting about grabbing a pint down the street as Andy feels a heavy pat on the back.  Andy shakes his head at this.  These fuckers are going to get us caught.

That is when Andy notices Rodrigo standing over him with his large fist still on his back.  “Are you doing okay?”

Andy nods in response.

 “Good.  Good.”  Rodrigo pauses before starting a new thought, “Look, I’m working on something in Vegas in a few weeks.  Don’t worry, it’s not what it sounds like.  I’m not trying to rob the Cosmopolitan or the Wynn or any of that shit.  It’s one of the smaller casinos on the outskirts of the city. Nothing major.  I don’t do ‘major’.  That’s how you get caught.” Rodrigo winks,  “But to pull this off I need a few men.  And I have just the role for you.  These banks don’t make shit.  A casino on the other hand, even a small one, that could be retirement in the Bahamas kind of money.  You know what I mean?”

It was as if Rodrigo was reading Andy’s mind and Andy nodded his head again in response.  He is not looking at Rodrigo, but he is listening hard.

“So, you're in?” Rodrigo raises his eyebrows.

Andy hesitates, “yeah, I’m in.” 

Rodrigo must not have heard the hesitation in Andy’s voice.  He slaps Andy on the back with his large hand, “Atta boy.  I’ll call you in a few weeks to give you more details.” And Rodrigo is out of the breakroom and climbing into the white van as fast as a man that large can move.

Andy stands in the doorway of the break room, a pile of cash in a plastic grocery bag in one hand the keys to his mustang in the other.  He watches as Rodrigo drives the white van out of the warehouse leaving it empty.  It is silent but in Andy’s head, there is plenty of noise.  

Then Andy speaks even though no one is there to listen, “How can I retire on $3,150?”

He walks out the warehouse door and down the broken down street where his beat up mustang is waiting for him.  

Andy climbs into the front seat and opens the plastic bag.  He looks at the money one more time, “I guess Vegas it is.”