Breakaway
““Wait here,” I said as I got out and went to the kitchen door. Chris’s muscle car, a 1969 GTO, was parked in the alley so I knew he was there. Chris was a cagey fucker and if I ran into him he’d be on me in a second, but no one else would much care. I just had to hope he was too busy at the front of the house to notice me.
Javier, one of the bar-backs, stood at the sink washing a pot, a cloud of steam rising into his face and making beads of sweat pop out on his forehead.
“Hey, kid,” he said wh...en I walked in.
“Hey, Javier. ¿Qué tal?” I said. He answered me but I didn’t really pay attention, then I was past him and on my way down the hall toward Chris’s office. I took the key from its hiding place above one of the exposed pipes in the ceiling then slipped into the office and closed the door behind me. The liquor was lined up in rows on a deep wooden shelf along the far wall. I quickly grabbed a bottle of vodka and tucked it into my fleece jacket and used my arm, bent at the elbow, hand in my pocket, to hold it pressed to my side where it wouldn’t be noticeable.MoreLess
Javier, one of the bar-backs, stood at the sink washing a pot, a cloud of steam rising into his face and making beads of sweat pop out on his forehead.
“Hey, kid,” he said wh...en I walked in.
“Hey, Javier. ¿Qué tal?” I said. He answered me but I didn’t really pay attention, then I was past him and on my way down the hall toward Chris’s office. I took the key from its hiding place above one of the exposed pipes in the ceiling then slipped into the office and closed the door behind me. The liquor was lined up in rows on a deep wooden shelf along the far wall. I quickly grabbed a bottle of vodka and tucked it into my fleece jacket and used my arm, bent at the elbow, hand in my pocket, to hold it pressed to my side where it wouldn’t be noticeable.MoreLess
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