Take It Easy

- a short story -

. . .

The golden Camry rolled down the highway at a casual but brisk sixty miles per hour, staying in the right lane, sunlight dancing off the polished surface. Cars sped by on the left, and whenever another, faster moving vehicle crept up on their rear bumper, Pink let his hand dangle out the driver's side window and waved them around. He smiled with a set of teeth too wide for his face and nodded as they passed, a lit cigarette jumping around in his mouth.

Chuck sat in the back seat, a duffel bag weighing heavy on his lap. He felt as though he hadn't released his grip on the bag's strap since the car was set in motion, and even though it was a hot day, the sweat on his back chilled him. He realized that his knuckles had turned white, and slowly loosened his hold as the strap slid out of his damp hands and onto his lap.

Pink looked at Chuck in the rearview mirror and smiled.

"Take it easy back there, Charlie," he said, taking a short drag on his stick of lung killer.

"We got out clean. From here on its nonstop to Arizona for our 'temporary retirement'." He stuck his cigarette out the window and tapped, letting ash fly out into the wind and behind the car.

In the front passenger seat was Dean. He was concentrated on organizing the calendar in the front part of his pocket notebook with a blue pen that left sharp, bright letters below the dates. Pink nudged him in the arm and jerked his thumb towards the back of the car.

"Tell him, Dean. Tell him to be cool, that it was an easy score, and that we're driving onwards into a beautiful future."

Dean hardly bothered to look over his shoulder. He turned his head very slightly, and he glanced back at Chuck for a short instant before once again concentrating on his precious notebook, managing to grunt out a few low sentences to reassure his younger partner-in-crime.

"Be cool, Charles. It was an easy score. We're driving onwards into a beautiful future."

Chuck took a deep breath, closing his eyes and leaning back up against the headrest. Sweat trickled down his forehead, even though the windows were open and the air conditioner was on high. The duffel bag was heavy in his lap so he picked it up and dropped it onto the floor with a loud thump, then nervously leaned forward to stick his head between Dean and Pink.

"Say, uh... Dee, what exactly is it you're doing there?" he asked.

The question had been nagging Chuck for the past few minutes, and he figured he might as well ask now, while his two other partners were in high spirits. The three of them were heading down to Arizona to lay low for a while, to let the LAPD have their fun chasing three criminals who had pulled off a nearly perfect heist for as long as it took for them to get bored and go back arresting only black people. However, Dean's calendar was a checkerboard of names and times, lunches and office meetings, bright blue letters mashed up into tight spaces.

"Business never stops, Charles," said Dean, not even bothering looking up. "I had appointments made long before we planned this little trip, and I intend to keep them. It's part of being a professional.

Chuck sat back, wondering if he could ever be a professional; a cold, hard, calculating mastermind like Dean, or a relaxed, almost painfully gleeful psycho like Pink. Already the thought of doing something like this again scared him down to his bones. It twisted his insides and made his fingers tremble. But the moment of realization, when it dawned on him that they had gotten away with it, and that nobody would catch them... It had made him feel so content, like he had accomplished what he was always meant to do. He wanted to relax and savor the feeling like Pink was doing, right now, with his cigarette and his smile, but he all he kept doing was check the rear window for police.