Chapter 21. Alice #2
“Bullshit.” Simon stepped forward and kicked the bigger kid’s body with a loud thud. Alice gasped and spun around from the till. The kid was wheezing and gagging. The smaller one had let out a scream and was trying to wiggle forward on his stomach. Simon grabbed the tape from Alice.
“Please,” she said. “Not with tape over their mouths. They could choke.” But Simon ignored her and stalked toward the small kid. He grabbed him by the back of his arms and flipped him over. The kid was twisting and flailing and crying.
Alice was so terrified she couldn’t move and just stood in front of the open cash register with bills clutched in her hand. The sound of tape tearing off the roll, a struggle, a slap, then muffled screams. Simon turned to look over his shoulder at Alice.
“Get the money!”
She continued emptying the till but kept an eye on what was happening. Simon was dragging the older boy up, his arms looped through the kid’s arms, and spinning him around.
Alice was now looking into the kid’s flushed face, his cheeks shiny with lemon cleaner and grime from the floor. His bangs were a blunt fringe above his panicked eyes.
The boy was trying to wrench himself free, but Simon was taller, stronger, and had the advantage. He marched him past Alice and stopped in front of the deep fryer.
Oh no.
The kid struggled harder, pulling, squirming, and kicking Simon’s legs with his heels. Simon grabbed the back of his hair with one hand and pushed his face toward the grease.
“What’s the combination?”
“Screw you,” the kid said, and Alice was beginning to think he was more stupid than brave.
Simon pushed his face closer to the grease.
The kid was doing a good job of resisting, and his neck was corded as he fought back.
Simon removed his hand from the boy’s hair and pulled the gun out of his waistband, then smacked it against the back of the boy’s head.
Simon was yelling at him. “What are the numbers?”
“He doesn’t know!” Alice shouted. “Let’s get out of here.”
“He knows.” Simon shifted his weight so that he was able to press his body down on the kid’s back. The boy’s face was inches from the grease.
“You want to be shot or have your face burned off?”
“It’s a key!” he finally cried out. “Under the tray in the cash register!”
“You were willing to die for some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about you?”
“My dad owns this place,” the kid yelled back, still somehow full of a bravado that maybe only a boss’s son could have.
“I should kill you for being stupid.”
“My dad’s going to find you and kill you,” the kid said, and Alice wanted to hit him herself. Why was he daring Simon? Did he have no sense of self-preservation?
Simon looked at her. “Don’t just stand there. Look for the key.”
Alice spun around and lifted the tray, finding the small silver key. Once she had it in her hand, Simon turned back to the kid. “You’re lucky you weren’t lying.”
Whatever smart-mouth thing the kid was about to say died in his mouth when Simon cracked him across the head with the butt of the gun.
Twice. Hard blows. The kid would’ve landed face-first in the deep fryer if it weren’t for the fact that Simon was holding him up.
Simon stepped back and let the kid sag to the floor, where he slumped to the side, unmoving.
Simon kicked him in the stomach. Then the ribs. Alice remembered him beating on Tom, how he wouldn’t stop. She felt that same helpless feeling now, the disconnect between what she was watching and how long it seemed to take her body and brain to catch up.
Without thinking, she grabbed one of the dirty cleaning cloths from the counter and threw it at Simon. It smacked the side of his face and dropped to the floor with a plop. Simon stopped kicking and frowned at her, panting as he tried to catch his breath.
“We have to empty the safe!” She held up the silver key.
He gave the kid one final parting kick, so hard that it moved his body a few inches, then he walked away.
Alice followed him as he searched around the back of the restaurant and found a small office.
He flicked on the lights. Alice blinked in the sudden brightness.
Simon located the safe under the desk, and opened it with the key, laughing when he pulled out stacks of cash.
He handed them to Alice, who shoved them into the pillowcase.
It felt like they’d been in that restaurant for hours.
Surely someone would come by. Did the teens have cars?
Was a parent going to pick them up? Maybe there was a parent waiting in the parking lot right now, wondering why the lights were off.
There’d be a knock on the glass door, a questioning shout.
When Simon got to his feet, she assumed he would run straight for the back door, but he was walking toward the front again, around the counter.
Alice ran after him—praying he wasn’t going to finish the kids off.
He stopped so fast that she bumped into his back.
He grabbed one of the milkshake cups, fumbling with a machine, pressing levers and buttons.
He held the cup under a nozzle and laughed as it filled with pink creamy liquid that spilled over the top.
Then he found a long red plastic spoon in a tray beside the machine and stuck it in the middle of the drink.
Alice stared, dumbfounded. A milkshake. He’d stopped to make a milkshake.
Simon looked down at the small kid who remained sprawled on the floor, his head turned to the side.
Alice’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light, so she could make out his features.
The boy’s hair was sticking up wildly, and his face was damp with tears and sweat.
The tape across his mouth pulled his skin taut.
It looked painful and Alice wished she could remove it for him.
“Your friend’s an asshole,” Simon stated.
The kid blinked, then nodded cautiously, his cheek sliding on the floor.
“You should work somewhere else,” Simon added. The kid nodded faster this time. Alice would be surprised if the poor kid was willing to ever leave his house again after that night.
Alice followed Simon out into the dark. They moved fast through the alley, ran across the street, avoiding any patches of lights and staying in the shadows. The town was quiet. Unaware. They were up the steps and into the RV. Nothing but their shadows slipped in behind them.
Simon took the pillowcase from Alice. She sat in the driver’s seat, tugged the bandana and gloves off, tossed the costume glasses onto the dash, and turned the key.
She looked into the rearview mirror. Simon was giving Jenny the milkshake.
She smiled up at him, teeth flashing white in the dark RV.
Her boyfriend had just robbed a restaurant and beat up a kid, and the girl was thrilled that he had brought her a milkshake.
A thirty-five-cent milkshake. He leaned down to give her a kiss.
Alice jammed her foot onto the gas pedal, lurching the RV forward and sending Simon tumbling into Jenny. He disentangled himself and stood back up, glaring at Alice, while milkshake dripped down his shirt.
“What the hell was that?”
“Sorry,” she said. “My foot slipped.”