Drifters: The First Generation

5

December 31, 2019
New York City, New York, USA
3:17 p.m.

Snowflakes drizzle out of the atmosphere, sprinkling the pavements and taxi roofs. Masses of people stride the streets, carrying a rhythm that mimics a heartbeat. The sound of engines and business exchanges create a melody that accompanies the individual citizens through their daily routines. While the city fights sleep, crime takes place. 

TD Bank, situated across from Prospect Park in the area of Brooklyn, sits quietly. Few people enter and exit through the doors. The lobby is practically a dead zone. Two people are seated on one of the many couches scattered throughout the large room; a man and a woman. The woman wore a light pink sweater and jeans, her dark brown hair tapered into a single braid that fell across her left shoulder. She was clearly foreign; her features revealed her, even if her clothes tried to hide the truth. The man was obviously american; blonde hair and green eyes, built like a linebacker. He slouched casually against his seat, wearing a denim jacket and fashionably torn jeans. 

The man checked his watch, growing impatient with the wait. He took a piece of nicotine gum from his jacket pocket and popped it in his mouth, chewing incessantly. He began to tap his foot on the floor, making an insistent clapping noise. The woman grew irritated at the man after listening to his jiggling feet for almost ten minutes. She quickly put a hand out and stilled his knee. Firmly, she said to the man, “Annoying me isn’t going to make time fly by faster.”

The man rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour. You’re telling me you’re not worried that this place hasn’t been robbed yet?”

The women looked around suspiciously before turning back to the man. “Keep your voice down. It’s only been thirty minutes, J.”

“Thirty minutes, my ass. If they don’t show up in the next five minutes, I’m going to rob this place myself.” The man said, sighing dramatically. 

The woman shushed him, glancing at the tellers. One of the women was already looking in their direction and frowning, wondering why they had been sitting there for thirty minutes and hadn’t asked for help. The woman turned back and quietly said to the man, “Don’t make a scene. We can’t afford to blow our cover.”

The man rolled his eyes and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. The woman watched him type from the corner of her eye. Where are you? Any sign of them??

Almost immediately, a reply came back. Check the door. The woman and man turned their heads simultaneously to the lobby doors. The glass began to revolve, signaling someone would be walking through. The man and woman tensed up, ready to jump to their feet in a moment's notice. A man came through first; average height, light brown hair curling at his temples, brown eyes sharp and assessing. It almost seemed like he was floating as he walked smoothly to the seats in front of the man and woman. Another woman came through the doors soon after the man.

The woman strode confidently in her skin tight jumpsuit, faux mink coat lightly scraping the floor. Her long legs stretched out in glorious length, highlighting her thick thighs and slender calves. Her knee-high boots clacked on the floor, alerting the attention of everyone in the room. Not even the tellers could look away from her magnificence. The woman smiled in the direction of the tellers, her bright teeth contrasting her mocha skin. Long black, silky hair trailed to her waist, while hazel eyes blinked behind the wispy lost strands of her bangs. She walked up to the other men and woman, taking a seat across from the original passengers. 

She made a show of taking off her jacket, the blond man’s gaze becoming intrusive. She caught the man staring and narrowed her gorgeous eyes. “Jamie, I thought I told you to keep those pervy thoughts to yourself.”