Cary Ann
CARY ANN
E ver since I grabbed the duffel bag, my heart’s been beating out of my chest. I have that ready, along with the tape with the evidence on it. I already wrapped and addressed the tape so all I need to do is mail it, and the video footage has been stopped. I removed that tape altogether and got rid of it, so they’ll have no idea it was me. There’s nothing stopping me from opening up every register with my PIN number and emptying out the drawers. There aren’t even any more shoppers left. For the last twenty minutes this place has been dead. I’m waiting until we're closed though, just in case.
Being open on Christmas Eve is a fucking stupid thing to do in a small town. Everyone’s done their shopping and they're either at the annual parade, or hunkering down and telling their kids Christmas stories as they try to settle them down for bed.
If I wasn’t planning on using this situation to my advantage, I’d be pissed that I had to work.
But here I am, prepared to right a wrong and steal this money back. I click the button on my phone and see it’s eight. Closing time.
I’m staring at the two cars in the parking lot that aren’t mine. They need to leave and get out of here so I can do this and get it over with. I don’t know why they’re here. Nothing else is open on this strip, and the owners don’t seem to be coming in. My palms are sweaty, and my heart’s racing. I just want this to be over with. I’m sick to my stomach over it.
I tear my eyes away from the parking lot. I just need to stay calm and do everything with ease.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, calming myself.
But then my eyes snap open and my heart sputters faster in my chest. Someone’s come in. Fucking hell. My nerves can’t take this.
I slowly turn, expecting to find Mr. Morose there, ready to thwart my plans because that would be just my luck, but instead it’s worse. I’m frozen in place. Fuck. My heart slams against my chest so hard it hurts.
Much worse.
I should scream, but my lungs are paralyzed in my chest, and my legs are shaking. I grip the counter to stay upright as two men in black ski masks walk through the door and the second one locks it behind him.
Oh my God.
I shake my head in disbelief, every ounce of strength replaced with fear. My legs feel weak, and my body feels freezing cold.
“Stay,” the first man commands, and some small part of me notes his very deep voice. They each have a gun in their hands, but neither are pointed at me. They have on gloves and masks and all black clothing. Oh shit. No! This can’t be happening to me!
My eyes dart to the parking lot as I take in a shaky breath. Both cars are still there. Fuck. I bet they belong to them.
I shake my head, wanting this to all be make-believe.
“It’s gonna be alright. You just need to listen and do what we say, and this will all be over with as soon as possible,” the man on my left says calmly. His voice is lighter, and sounds more southern.
With the ski masks on all I can see are his deep chocolate eyes. Both men are tall, with broad shoulders. The one on the left is heavier than the other. Internally I start to track all the features that can be used to track these assholes down. I stand a little straighter, feeling my determination come back to me.
I’m not letting them get away with this.
The man on my right slaps a large black backpack on the counter as the man on the left says, “Just put the money in the bag and we’ll leave.” I stare at the black backpack, feeling the anger rise in my body as my hands ball into fists.
This money was supposed to be for the orphanage. I seethe in a breath through my clenched teeth and shake my head.
“No?” the man to my left says incredulously. He moves the gun from one hand to the other, and while it’s still not pointed in my direction, it does the job of instilling fear in me. My heart thump, thump, thumps.
“Look sweetie, it’s real easy. You just empty the cash out of each of the registers, or we will.”
I shake my head again, feeling tears prick my eyes. The man on the right is stock-still, just staring at me with his pale blue eyes. “I won’t give you my PIN,” I say in a cracked voice.
This is stupid. It really is. But I can’t let them do this.
I can’t let yet another person steal from these kids. It belongs to them, damn it! They need it. Not these assholes who thought they’d rob a store on Christmas Eve.
The thought makes me even angrier, and I almost lose my shit. But the man on my right walks closer.
“This doesn’t have to be a fight,” he says beneath his breath. So low, but he sounds so familiar. He looks to his partner and adds, “We don’t wanna hurt you.”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, rolling down to my cheeks and I angrily brush them away.
“Besides, we’ve got the key,” the man on my left says confidently as he holds up the manager's key. What the fuck? My face scrunches up in a mix of sickness and irritation.
They don’t even need my PIN. Shit, I’m going to have to physically keep them away, and that simply isn’t going to happen. But I still have to try.
I shake my head and outright refuse. “No,” I say with a strength I hardly feel. “I won’t let you.” I close my eyes and try to summon the courage to continue fighting them.
When I open my eyes, I instinctively take a step back, the small of my back butting against the counter and forcing a small scream from my lips.
Oh fuck, he’s pointing the gun right at me, and my heart stops entirely. His chocolate brown eyes stare back at me, daring me to resist further. I put both of my hands up as fear grips me. I don’t wanna die. I take in a shaky breath.
“Don’t you fucking point your gun at her!” the man on my right snaps. My heart stills, and my hands slowly drop. I do recognize his voice. I shake my head, not wanting to believe it.
But the second he looks back at me, I know it’s him.
“Vinny?” I whisper.