MEET THE SHARPES

7. The Job

Maxim was happy to see his old friend. They'd fallen into their usual dialogue and the exchange brough him back to life. He stepped out onto the street feeling refreshed. The warm breeze hugged him as he floated down the sidewalk and he exhaled. He longed for this feeling. The blissful sensation which held his ribs together—made his hair stand erect. Maxim rounded a corner and strolled down the busy street toward a row of buildings with dark red bricks and metal accents.

He wondered how Antwan was doing. His husband, one of the most cunning people he knew, had a temper and it made him short sighted. Maxim prayed to the gods Antwan could keep his head.

He slowed to a comfortable pace when his destination came into view. Evangeline's Son Bank rose out of the concrete like a red rose. Its stately front was decorated with ivies and ferns which covered the 'o' in the title. A glimmer of copper caught his eye when he entered. The shiny speck gleamed in the apostrophe and the reflection of his ex-boyfriend, Sean, winked at him. He pulled the glass doors apart.

"Good morning, welcome to Evangeline's Son Bank. How may we help you today?"

A chipper young lady stood behind a tall counter. Her khaki cardigan disappeared beneath the smooth marble counter and her red nails drummed a metallic sound from the surface.

"Hello," Maxim smiled. "My name is Sean Guillory. I am here for safety deposit box, 9659."

He produced a bronze key, and its powder blue tassel tickled his skin. He slid it across the counter. The cashier quickly inspected the key, and her dubious expression did not surprise him nor did her next command.

"I.D., please?"

Her clipped tone ricocheted off the polished floors. The banker—situated at a small desk a few feet away—looked up from her computer screen and Maxim winced at the dark flash in her eyes. He reached into the pocket of his sports coat and produced the fake identification card Osprey printed for him.

"Here we are." he sang.

Maxim glanced at her clear name tag as she swiped his fake identification card into her greasy palms. He was thankful Osprey was so thorough with his disguises when the banker, a heavy-set woman with close cropped purple hair slid into the stall. She gingerly took the ID card from her hands and inspected the holographic piece of plastic.

Seconds passed before her face widened into a menacing grin and one silver canine winked at him from her yellow smile.

"A pleasure to see you, Mr. Guillory! Right this way."

"Have a good day, Brittany."

Maxim winked at the teller and the young lady's face turned a deep crimson. She shrank in her chair. The motion struck Maxim in the middle of his chest and his friendly smile faltered before he turned his attention to his new companion.

The banker matched his pace as they floated down the short hallway and they came to a vault door done in brass. It stood ajar and the banker waved him inside. Maxim nodded to her as he walked into the vault, and she followed close on his heels.

"My many apologies, sugar. I didn't catch your name." Maxim crooned.

"Oh, sorry! I'm Hilda!" she announced. "I just transferred from our Lake Charles branch."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Hilda."

Maxim tipped his invisible hat to her, and she cocked her head to one side. Her cowboy hat earrings dangled as he flashed her another smile and he hurriedly repositioned the Sky Stetson.

Hilda plastered her smile on her face again. She shuffled to the back of the room and used a fat, ringed index finger to scan the turquoise number plates. The chipped red nail polish was bright against the monotone gray boxes, and her plump finger hovered above safety deposit box 9659 as if it were obvious.

She mashed the bronze key into the horizontal lock and rotated until it clicked. The locker door swung open, and Hilda stood back. Maxim retrieved the case and held his hand out for the key.

"Thank you for your help, Hilda. It was a pleasure!" he said.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she wondered.

Maxim smiled. The bronze case was light enough to juggle from hand to hand.

"Nah, there's no need. Thank you though."

Maxim unleashed both barrels of his high voltage smile and Hilda stepped into his path. She licked at her blackening lips and sneered.

"What's your hurry? You have time."

The vault door swung closed, and her smile darkened. The whites of her eyes dipped to a coal black, and her round electric blue irises pulsed until they were malevolent red slits. Gnarly silver fangs descended from her gums, and she spat a wad of venom at Maxim. He shielded himself behind the gleaming case and it began to sizzle. He looked from the acidic hole to Hilda's demented expression.

"You're a fucking vampire!" he groaned.

"I see through your disguise! The Mont-Claire family is offering top dollar for your head, Maxim Sharpe; and I, Hilda Lecompte-Trahan-Lafleur, intend to deliver. I knew you'd come. I knew you'd come for your precious case!"

"Oh, come on, Helen, we were getting on fabulously!" Maxim pouted.

Hilda lunged at him. Her black smoke filled his lungs as he launched himself sideways. She clung to the ceiling and snarled. Maxim patted his pockets for his knife and cursed. Hilda jeered at him from her upended stance. Her earrings merrily dangled as she foamed at the mouth.

He looked down at the copper case. Maxim ripped its gleaming handle free and humped to his feet. Hilda lunged again and he dove under her. Maxim grabbed her by her talon ankle and sung her into the vault door. Hilda crumpled to the floor in a daze and a rain of silver coins pelted her face.

"My apologies, dear woman, I promise this is not my typical disposition toward women, but you're really pissing me off, Helen." Maxim grunted.

"It's Hilda!"

She growled once more, and Maxim jammed the copper handle into her heart. Her black eyes widened, and her lips parted. Her body dissolved into a dense smoke and the impenetrable fog doused the room in darkness. Maxim twisted the vault door open and fell into the hallway. The heavy door swung closed, and the safe lock spun until he heard a metallic lock.

"So much for feeling refreshed." he mumbled.

Maxim was covered in ash. He looked as if he spent all day under the hood of a beat up chevy. He stood and straightened his wobbling Stetson and his flickering disguise settled. He set off through the lobby with his smoldering suit sending plumes of black smoke into the stale air. He feigned a wave as he fanned the blossoming smoke and tipped his hat to the teller before he rushed out the door.

"Have a good day, Brittany."

Maxim disappeared into the late morning. He shed the smoldering sports coat and slammed it into a green waste bin. He rounded the corner as the trash can burst into green flames.