A Small Score
 
Nick’s fist slammed into my eye.  “That’s going to leave a mark,” I said to myself as I dropped to my knees. Nick kicked me in the stomach two or three times.  It’s hard to count when you’re getting the shit kicked out of you.
 
“Get up,” Nick said.  
 
“Give me a minute,” I said.
 
“We don’t have time for this, stop being a pussy.”
 
“Fuck you, you’re not the one taking all the shots.”  
 
“Yeah, I can take a shot.”
 
This plan sounded a lot better when we were talking it out.  It sounded a lot better when I wasn’t getting my ass beat.  Now that I’m spitting up blood, I’m starting to second-guess it.  I slowly stood up; I could feel my eye swelling.  
     
“It’s about time,” Nick said.  “I’ve got to get out of here.”  He turned and looked out the window; Big Tim was still outside with the car running waiting for Nick.  He was supposed to be watching out for the cops that always hang out at the Quick Mart across the street.  Nick turned back to me and smiled.  He was enjoying this more than he was supposed to be.  He took another quick shot to my gut, then another to my head.  I dropped to the ground again, my head slammed into the concrete.  Everything blurred for a minute or two; I do not know how long actually.  
 
When I got up, Nick and Tim were gone.  I made my way to the plastic lawn chairs that furnished the Gas Land station where I work.  I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  
 
Now I knew why Nick wanted to do this on my night to work.  I picked up the phone and dialed my boss’s number.  
 
“Yeah,” Walt said.
 
“Walt, we just got robbed,” I said
 
“What? What the fuck happened?”
 
“I don’t know, I just came back into the office and the guy sucker punched me. That’s the last thing I remember.”
 
“Shit, you couldn’t stop ‘em?  That’s why I got the gun, you stupid shit.”
 
“I didn’t even see them.”
 
“You call the cops yet?”
 
“No, I called you first.”
 
“Shit, I'll call ‘em, I’ll be there in five.”  I heard a click then the dial tone.
 
This was not the first time an employee tried robbing this gas station.  Actually quite a few have tried.  
 
There was Jimmy. He wasn’t too bright, but he was a good guy.  One night after getting loaded, he decided to break in to the station.  He broke one of the windows in the overhead door to the bays, and climbed through, leaving a trail of blood all the way to the cash register where he managed to score a whole thirty dollars and twenty-seven cents.  I guess Jimmy forgot we drop all the money in the floor safe when we lock up.  He also forgot about the cops across the street, who were waiting for him when he climbed back out the window.  Of course, Walt fired him the next day.  Then hired him back two years later, and he tried the same damn thing.  As I said, Jimmy was not too bright.  
 
There was this other guy, Kyle.  I never met him.  He would over charge people’s credit cards then take the money out of the register.  Not a bad idea `cause when Walt did the final count, everything still matched up.  He managed to steal five grand before customers started to notice that they were being ripped off.  
 
Nick told me after the cops caught him he went crazy.  He ended up hanging himself in his mom’s laundry room.
 
Mickey tried robbing the place at gunpoint.  He didn’t wear a mask though so the guy working that night identified him.  He didn’t get too far before the cops picked him up.  
 
This place has had its share of robberies.  However, Nick and I were the only ones with a good plan, one that could actually work.  Shit, the other guys didn’t even plan it.  That is why all of them were caught.  
 
Nick had the plan before I even started working here though, he just didn’t trust any of the other guys enough to do it.  Last week was when we finally got serious about it.  
 
“Shit, it would be a piece of cake to rob this place.”  Nick said.  “You just have to have a plan.”
 
“And I suppose you have one,” I said
 
“Shit, yeah, I do.  We'll do it during the night shift when no one is around. We can take a night when you work. Sunday night you know we have the sale every week, six cents off a gallon.  We always make the most money on Sundays. 
 
"I’ll come in before you drop the cash into the safe, rough you up a bit, and take the cash.  In the last month three other stations have been robbed in the area; no one would ever pin us.”
 
“Yeah, I guess it could work.”
 
“Bet your ass it could work. Walt’s fuckin’ clueless. Like the time all of us pissed in the storage tanks for the gas, we ruined all that fuckin’ gas and Walt never knew it was us.  After I leave, you call Walt and tell him the place was robbed.  He’ll probably chew your ass out, but it will pay off.  The next day you come over to my place and collect your half."
 
“We split it, fifty-fifty?”
 
“Yeah, we’ll need a driver.  He can keep an eye out for the cops, too.  Big Tim will do it, cheap, too."
 
When you make six bucks an hour, any opportunity to make some extra cash sounds good.  
 
“All right, let’s do it,” I said.
 
“Okay, you're not going to pussy out on me, are you?” Nick said.
 
“Fuck you, I’ll be just fine.” We set the time and Nick left.  It seemed like a good plan. 
 
Now I’m sitting here spitting globs of blood into an ashtray.  A car backfires, then there’s the sound of screeching tires.  It’s Walt's Ford pickup truck; he’s coming up so fast it looks like he’s going to crash right through the plate glass window of the office.  Walt jumps out of his truck, and races up to the door bursting through, the bells on the back of the handle ringing out to an ear piercing sound.  The smell of whiskey fills the room as he says, “What the fuck happened?”
 
“Like I said, the guy hit me from behind, I had no time to react.” I said.
 
“Fuckin’ piece of shit, I should have known better than to hire you.”
 
“How is this my fault?”
 
“I know you fuckin’ punks.  I don’t have proof, but I know you were part of this.”
 
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
 
“I've owned this place for thirty years, I'm no fuckin’ idiot.  In thirty years, nobody’s robbed me and now this shit happens.  I'll bet your little buddy, Nick, is home right now counting my money.”
 
“Where are the cops?”
 
“I didn’t call ‘em.”
 
“Why?”
 
“`Cause I don’t need no fuckin’ cops running around my place. They won’t find shit anyway.  And I already know who robbed me.  Get the fuck out of here.  You're fired and so is Nick.  If I catch either of you fucks around here, I’ll shoot your ass.”  
 
I could fight for my job but it’s not worth it.  I made a good days pay, and there are plenty of places around here to pump gas.  I walked out the door as a light came on, blinding me.  Two pairs of hands grab me by each arm, and start pulling me into the light.  As I got closer, I realized the light was from a cop car.  Over to my left there was another one; Nick and Big Tim were in the back seat.  Behind me, I heard the door open and Walt laughing.
 
“Did you really think you could pull this shit, and I wouldn’t find out?”  Walt said.  “I don’t trust anyone; I had this place bugged the whole fuckin’ time.  I was just waiting for you dumb asses to try and pull it off.”  
 
With a cop on each arm, I walked over to the car and got in.  I looked back at the door; Walt was still standing in the doorway watching us.  I flipped him the finger as the car started to roll away.  He ran out into the lot trying to catch up to us, but I guess his fat ass slowed him down.  Then I saw him drop to his knees, like he was trying to catch his breath.  
 
“Hope the fucker has a heart attack,” I said to myself.