When The Time Comes

chapter 9; Ben

It hits me at random that I don't know enough about Liberty. She's wearing my sweater that has been in the back of my closet for a year. She can keep it now, I don't have much use for it anyway. And while I don't know much about Omar either, the fact that all three of us got stag mail has somehow unified us.

There is a big, fat elephant in the room doesn't seem to bother anyone. It occurs to me, several times, that Lib has blood on her hands. In a way, we do, too. I was her getaway driver even if the douche deserved it but the law rarely takes these things into consideration.

Anyway, this doesn't change the fact that I'm still skeptical about them. While we eat buttered toast in a triangle on my cold mattress, discussing money making schemes, I wonder if I can really rely on these two in a high risk situation like an armed robbery.

Omar brings up the gas station close to good-will. I know exactly which one he's describing, I've seen it a couple of times since I've moved here. In my head, I can see an escape route coming together but I've also, always seen it completely empty.

"They won't have much," I bite my toast, licking the butter off my top lip. "Not many people drive up there. Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if the owner's packin' one."

"It's Atlanta," Lib says as a matter of fact. "Everyone's packing one."

"We'll take one too, then," Omar suggests.

"You have a gun?" Lib asks, mirroring my slight surprise.

"No but my roommate does," he explains. "I can borrow it off him."

The thought of committing armed robbery gets my adrenaline going, the whole prospect lifting off the page and into real life. My stomach twists into knots and I excuse myself to use the restroom.

When I walk back in, Lib is scrolling on her phone and Omar's still on my laptop.

"Find anything?" I ask, settling down to my place between them.

"No," Omar pushes the laptop down his legs, towards me. I pick it from him and turn it so I can see the screen.

I read over the article he's left open, briefly meeting his concerned gaze. Without saying anything, I know he doesn't want me to say anything out loud. The police have found Andrew and by the looks of it, so have the local news reporters. The report doesn't say if Andrew's dead or alive but just that he's been taken to the hospital. No mention of a suspect or a description of Lib's wavy blonde hair and trim stature, is a good sign. A very good sign.

I close the browser just as Lib puts her phone down on her thigh.

"I want to hit Andrew's house," she announces.

I think Omar's mouth swings open with the same speed mine does. No way. Absolutely no way. We are staying away from Andrew's family and the cops. There is no way.

"Hear me out," she looks at the pair of us, holding a hand up. "Andrew's in the hospital which means his family probably isn't at home right now. They are either at the station or with him at the hospital. I know Andrew's family has money, I've never been so sure of anything else. If you want to hit, hit big. Or none of this will be worth it."

"It's too risky," I shake my head. "They will recognize you if we get caught and then we really will all die behind bars."

"That's what the disguises are for."

"No," I say. "No, this is a stupid idea. I'm sorry but I don't think we should be anywhere close to the guy you just stabbed."

"Just how much money are we talking about here?" Omar asks, his fingers on his chin thoughtfully.