HeavyLight: Chapter 9
So what was supposed to be a venture to get some new guns ended in an endeavor involving a kidnapping. Well, that’s not how we saw it. Basically, we hit No-Face Lacey, the notorious leader of a motorcycle gang known as the Blurs, with our truck.
So she’s a criminal, which means we couldn’t take her to the hospital. If we did, they would eventually want to know what happened to her, and it was clear to everyone that she was speeding. So we had to take her home and figure out what to do with her, which was a task that we were going to bestow on Dougman.
Anyway, Jumbo Jim and I parked the truck in the backyard so that the police couldn’t see it. We went to the back and opened it up, revealing to us that No-Face-Lacey was still asleep in the back, curled up and snoozing peacefully. We carefully picked her up and began carrying her around the house. “Dude, be careful man, don’t handle her so hard.” I whispered angrily.
“Sorry, how about this?” he asked, lightening his grip on her arms.
“That’s good...hey, stable your grip a bit, she’s swinging now.” I said. He did, and his grip tightened on her arms.
“Dude, don’t handle her so hard!” I said again. At that point we were at the front door. both my hands were filled holding onto her legs, so I had to knock on the door with my forehead.
After a few moments, the door opened up and Angry Steve looked out at us. “Nobody home! Oh wait, Red, is that you? Sorry, I thought you guys were soliciting.” he said. Then he glanced over at the face of the woman we were carrying. “Hey, who dat?” he asked.
I pushed past him as I made my way into the living room. “Out of the way, Steve. Serious problem here.” I said. Now, all the lights in my house were on, which I was pissed about considering that it’s going to end up on the electric bill. There was an unfinished jigsaw puzzle on my table. Two half empty bags of Cheese Fingers sat on the counter next to a collection of opened Cola cola cans. Several chairs were placed in a lopsided circle in the living room behind the couch. Dougman was standing in the kitchen, baking macaroni on the stove.
He glanced over his shoulder and said “Hey, you’re back, huh? Who’s the chick?” he asked.
Jumbo Jim and I set No-Face Lacey down softly on the couch. “Before I begin answering your mundane question, I would like you to answer a few of mine. First off; why is all this stuff out? The chairs, the snacks, the puzzle?” I said, specifying what I meant.
“Well, Steve bought the watches and burner phones and came back around 5. My contact, who was going to meet up with me in the back alley of the Preschool downtown to talk about explosives, couldn’t make it because he fell down an open manhole and disappeared into the sewers. So I got here around 6. We did a jigsaw puzzle...”
“Which you didn’t finish.” I pointed out.
“Yes, which we didn’t finish. Then we got bored and played musical chairs. After that we had some snacks and watched Full-on Fraternity Pillow Boxing. Alright, so your question has been answered. What about mine?” Dougman asked.
“Uh, you see, that’s the issue. You might want to come look at her first.” I said.
Dougman sighed angrily and left the kitchen. He tossed his apron to the side and took off the hairnet as he approached the coach. Upon seeing the girl, his eyebrow shot up in suspicion. “...A hooker?” he asked.
“No-Face Lacey! The leader of the Blurs! She ran into our truck, the rest of her gang took off, we didn’t know what to do with her, so we brought her here.” I explained.
“Why!? Why did you bring her to our house? What’ll happen when she wakes up? She’s gonna be pissed, that’s for sure. She could probably take all four of us, I mean, look at those forearms.” Dougman pointed out. All four of us took a moment to admire her bare, muscular arms as she lay slumbering on the couch.
“Hmmm...how much do you think she can lift?” I asked.
“I dunno, like 120, maybe 130 pounds-look it doesn’t matter. Point is; you both are totally idiots. What are we gonna do about this now?” Dougman asked.
“Uh...we were kinda hoping that you could come up with something...” Jumbo Jim said.
Dougman groaned angrily and rubbed his forehead with both hands. “Uh...so she’s still unconscious. Let’s hope that she has amnesia or something. I guess we should move her into the unused room next to Marcy’s.” He said. Just then the front door opened up, and another familiar face stepped in.
He lifted up his hands into the air, forming a V, and said “What’s up, witches?”
“Yo boys! Check it out! It’s Kevin Strokehard!” Angry Steve said. They both smiled and initiated their really long, practiced and rehearsed hi-five which composed of a verse of patty-cake, a few leg slaps, some hamboning, and a headbutt at the end. Then they cheered.
“Kevin? Whatcha doing here pal? How did you find my house to begin with?” I asked.
“You’re homie, Dougguy or whatever, gave me all the information I needed on you. Anyway, since we’re gonna be like robbing a bank, I decided to practice a little bit. I tried to steal an old lady’s purse, but somehow that turned into a high-speed chase down Avenue Crossing with like 20 cop cars and a heli chasing me. I shook them off and now I need a place to stay for the night. By the way, got any beer?” He asked.
Great. Now a gorilla was staying at my house. Though, thinking quickly, I used his presence to aid us instead of hinder us. “Uh, Kevin, you can sleep on the couch. But first, help Jumbo Jim move No-Face Lacey into the guest room. She’s that girl right there.” I said, pointing to the girl lying in the recumbent position on the couch.
“Pfft. No prob, rob.” he said.
“Uh...I’m Red.” I said.
“Whatever. Come on, big guy. Let’s move princess into her new castle.” Kevin said, grabbing Lacey by the legs. Jumbo Jim grabbed her by the arms and they both picked her up off the couch. Angry Steve lead them into the hallway leading to the unused bedrooms. Dougman took the time to ask me questions.
“Hey, uh, listen, have you talked to Marcy about her job yet?” he asked.
“Uh...no...why do I have to be the one to talk to her? I mean, you’ve seen her right? I believe I’ve made it clear that it’s difficult for me to talk to pretty girls. Remember that one time at Owl’s Eyes?”
“Hmmm...yeah, that time with the hot waitress? Yeah, I remember that.” Dougman said. Let me explain what we are talking about; there’s this place called Owl’s Eyes that’s like a restaurant that serves chicken wings and stuff but nobody goes there for the wings, they go there for the waitresses. The first time I went there, I didn’t expect them to the caliber of beauty that they had, so when a waitress walked up to our table and said “alright, what will you all be having for a drink this evening?” I said directly to her “I...love toast.”
She looked confused for a moment and said “sir, what will you have to drink?”
“Uh...mayonnaise?” I said. One thing led to another, panic set in, and twenty minutes later I ended up throwing the cash register through a window. It was a weird night. But Marcy is by far hotter than any of those waitresses, or any waitress at any Owl’s Eyes in the U.S. Maybe not an Owl’s Eyes in Venezuela, I’ve never been to one there. Just an inference though.
“Yeah, so you know what I’m talking about. Why am I the one to talk to her?” I asked.
“Well, you see, we, meaning myself, Jumbo Jim, Roger, and Angry Steve, voted you the officially unofficial voice of our unnamed team. That means you are the one who talks to people. Not us. First off, I’m not sure why you think I’m any better at talking to pretty girls than you are. I’m just less likely to overload and throw a cash register through a window. Steve’s wife, Shabiqua, has forbidden him from talking to any girls hotter than she is and let’s face it; no girl wants to talk to Jumbo Jim. So that makes you the one to go speak with her.” He said.
“...I see your point. What should I say to her?” I asked.
“Well, if she asks a question, just answer it. Keep your answers short, and if she wants to talk about herself, let her talk about herself. Just don’t say you think she’s hot. That’s not polite in a casual, exchange of information. You’ll be fine. Just go back there and talk to her like she’s your co-worker. Because technically she is.” Dougman explained.
I paused for a moment, blushed, and looked away. “I’m...shy...” I whispered.
Dougman gave me a look that said “you for real, dude?” He didn’t say anything, but instead chose to walk around me and give me a hard shove.
“Alright, alright! I’m going!” I said, walking towards the open hallway. As I was passing by, the door to Lacey’s room was open and Kevin and Jumbo Jim were talking in it.
“Yo, bro, let me tell ya something, this chick is totally hammered! That’s the kind of chick I’d wanna date, man.” Kevin Strokehard said.
“Uh...she’s not drunk...we hit her with our car...” Jumbo Jim explained.
There was a pause, and then Kevin Strokehard said “I feel ya bro...” but he made it sound like he knew that that was just a cover up for something else.
I bypassed that door and made my way to Marcy’s door, where I could see light pouring in from under the doorway. I stood there for a moment, trying to compose myself. I hadn’t seen Marcy in awhile so I’m not sure how I’m going to react to seeing her again for the third time. So I sucked it up and gently knocked on the door. After a moment, I heard a faint voice. “Come in.”
Then I opened the door and peered inside. It’s clear that Marcy’s been doing some redecorating; she’s got posters of electronic and hipster bands all over the walls, her bed has a new purple comforter, and she’s hanging bed sheets as curtains. It made me wonder; is Marcy in college? She’s definitely around that age. She’s sitting at her desk, typing away at the computer. As the door opened with a rusty, creaking noise, her face turned around to note the source. That’s when I was once again lost in her emerald eyes.
“Uh....uh...hi....Marcy...” I said.
“Oh, uh, hey Red. Can I help you with anything?” She asked.
“Yeah...I...want to...talk about stuff...with....you.” I said. Now, I had an overbearing urge to point at her curtains and say “nice curtains.” I didn’t want to, because it just felt sorta out of line.
“Alright, why don’t you take a seat then?” She asked, motioning to the chair right next to her. Now, keep in mind that I’ve never been closer to Marcy than the length of the doorway to her chair. So as I’m walking towards her, I feel this sudden burning sensation in my chest like I’m walking towards a fire. She’s still wearing her hoodie, but in my mind I’m trying to picture her without her hoodie on. So I’m just staring at the back of her head, trying to picture what her neck looks like. Suddenly, I realise I’ve been staring at her for too long and she’s glancing back at me over her shoulder. “Uh...are you gonna sit or something?” She asked.
I straightened out and got my head back into the game. “Yes! Yes, I’m totally going to do that right...now.” I said as I planted my tail end directly into the cold metal chair. She gave me an extra long stare and then went back to typing. So I figured it’s time to initiate the conversation.
“Uh...so...what is it that you wanted to talk about?” I asked.
“Well, I kinda wanted to talk about my pay. You see, Roger may be my Uncle, but that doesn’t mean I’m doing him a favor by agreeing to be part of this. Also, I kinda need the money. My best friend Denise was incarcerated in Dallas for stealing a truck full of Cheese Fingers and I need the bail money.” She said.
Okay, so I’ve listened to her without interrupting her. That’s a good start. Now she’s waiting for me to answer, so I say “...you see...everybody is getting 10 percent of the results of the goods we obtain from the heist. That sounds fair...right?” I asked.
She thought about it for a moment. “Well, I’ve done some backdoor research and discovered that the Harrison and Ford Trust bank grosses approximately 200 thousand dollars in federal funds each year. That means if we want to maximize the outcome of our heist, we need to strike in a period between next wednesday and two fridays from now, at which the accumulative product will be at it’s maxima for this particular business trimester.” She explained.
“...That sounds about right.” I replied.
She paused for a moment, further investing in whatever she was working on at the computer. “When do we want to make our move?” She asked.
“Uh, that’s kind of the problem. We aren’t fully prepared. We found one of our two henchman, and we have watches and burner phones, but we still need another henchman and explosives. Dougman is looking into getting us some more explosives. You know, for like blowing open vault doors. You’re smart, you have access to the internet, do you happen to know how to create some possibly illegal military grade explosives?” I asked.
“Hmmm...well, the thing is, I know how to make stuff like thermite and C4. But I’ve gotten surveillance footage of the Vault door, and I sincerely doubt that thermite or C4 will do anything to it other than leave a scorch mark. We’ll need something much more powerful, with less of a fiery explosion and more of a solid thud.” She said.
That’s when I realized that even if we had brought a lighter to our first Heist, the dynamite still wouldn’t have even worked! In a perfect universe where we had termite to use, not even that would have worked! So I was simultaneously pissed off at myself for not taking the time to do the do the scientific research on it and glad I had Marcy to do that for me.
“Alright, well, like I said, Dougman is looking into that part of the plan. Meanwhile, we still need to find our next henchman.” I said.
“There’s another pressing matter: didn’t you and Steve rob a gas station nearby?” She asked.
“Uh, yeah, why do you ask?” I asked.
“You didn’t happen to leave your car there, did you?” She asked.
I remembered that my car, the one I had stolen, I mean gathered from one of my latest jobs, had been impounded by the police because it was at the scene of the crime and nobody has stepped forward to claim it.
“Yeah, uh, it’s in the Impound now. I think it’s too big to be considered criminal evidence and the Police Department in Cincinnati is trying to be more eco-friendly so they don’t use those machines that scan for DNA anymore.” I replied.
“Uh...two things about that. One; nothing is considered too big to be criminal evidence. Two; the reason why Police haven’t been using their DNA scanners is because they stopped working. They’ve just instituted the rumor that they’re being more eco-friendly as a means to keep the public at peace. The machines are scheduled to be replaced next week.” She explained.
After hearing that, I wanted to take a sip of coffee, spit it out across her desk dramatically, and then yell “What!?” But I didn’t have coffee, so I just went straight to the end of that where I said “What!?”
“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to get that back soon. Otherwise they’re going to trace you back to that crime.” She said.
Dang it. So I had to get the Car somehow, but I couldn’t go and pay the fine because as it turns out, it is in fact considered criminal evidence. I honestly wasn’t sure before I talked to her about it. So I would have to do what I was best at. I was going to steal it back.
“Thanks for your help, Marcy.” I said.
“No problem. Get that car back soon.” She replied.
I got up and said “can do” before walking out of the room. I was partially troubled with that, but at the same time, I was pretty proud of myself for holding a decent conversation with Marcy. That’s a good start, right? Being about to talk to someone you might want to eventually date?