Page 110 of Severed Heart
My residual anger and resentment towards the brother standing in front of me now morphing into concern as I watch him strap up.
“I need to be there,” I stress as Sean pulls a clean T-shirt from a nearby package after discarding his button-up. While most of the recently graduated are readying themselves for tonight’s parties after their rite of passage, my brothers are strapping up to commit a robbery. With the police busy with the task of answering calls for said parties, we decided it was the perfect time to strike. However, I can’t help shaking my head at the irony of it while real fear sets in.
“If you carry it out just like we planned, a single shell shouldn’t touch ground,” I remind them both, the need to go with them overwhelming as my heart thuds steadily. We’ve pulled a lot off in the last year, but this is by far the fucking riskiest. The fact that I planned this particular grab doesn’t sit well at all. Though the plan is simple enough. Between the crew we’ve assembled and each’s specific skill set—which I assessed and assigned—itshould bea cakewalk. It’s the risk of being discovered bywhowe’re stealing from that has me on edge—the Town of Triple Falls.The chamber’s funds and treasury. Our take—eighteen grand. A few thousand less than Roman’s last contribution so as not to make it too obvious. A contribution in which we’ve decided to reallocate where the money goes.
It’s our first real test, and I would think it idiotic if the cash grab—thanks to Roman’s boasting—wasn’t close to foolproof. Even so, I can’t help the unease skittering up and down my spine.
“Fuck this,” I say, grabbing a vest to suit up. Dom chuckles and jerks it from my grip.
“We get caught,” Dom says, tossing it to the floor, “you don’t get the high and tight haircut, and I’m not missing that. Go find something to distract yourself with.”
I glance around the garage at cars I won’t be focused enough to fix properly. “Not fucking likely.”
“And not our problem,” Dom clips, his tone playful, his eyes the opposite. “You’re too valuable to risk.”
“And you’re not?”
“We’ve been over this,” Sean sighs, drawing a cigarette from his pack and lighting it with the flick of his Zippo. “I have a good feeling about tonight.”
“Well, you’re a fucking nauseating optimist, so that eases none of my worries,” I snap sarcastically.
“Between you two broody assholes, someone has to keep things light. Face it, I’m the yang to your yings, baby,” Sean says, wrapping the Velcro around his chest before double-checking his stash of guns. His own movements now those of an expert in weaponry. A part of his impressive growing skill set.
“It’s the control freak in you”—Dom speaks up—“that’s fretting fornothing. Handle that shit,” he orders me. “We’re going to be doing a lot of this kind of shit solo while you’re doing pushups for Uncle Sam, so get used to it.”
I open my mouth again to protest, and Dom cuts me off with his stare, his eyes just as calculating as his aunt’s. They’re so much alike it’s uncanny, and no doubt why they barely get along.
“You’re about to make the biggest sacrifice of the three of us,” Dom points out in an attempt to put me at ease.
“It isn’t a sacrifice,” I say. “It’s the plan.”
“It’s yourfreedom,” Sean reminds me. “What about that?” he asks through a plume of smoke. “The US government is about toown your assfor four long years, at the least, and we can’t ever repay you for that. Not in any capacity.”
Jeremy and Russell honk from the van they secured outside as Sean takes one last drag of his cigarette before crushing it under his boot and tousling my hair. “You be a good boy and sit tight. Mommy and Daddy will be right back.”
“Fuck off.”
“Love you too, brother,” Sean says through a chuckle. “If, by some bad luck, I don’t return, I’ll miss you most of all.”
“I’m hurt,” Dom says without an ounce of emotion. “Meet you back at my house after,” he tells me.
“I’ll be there,” I assure him.
As they exit the bay, I give them both a solemn nod, making as much peace as I can with it as I close up the garage. Minutes later, I’m sitting outside a gas station, and just as I’m about to get out, my phone rings.
“Hey T, I was just about to call.”
“Where is your head?” he asks, sensing my state.
“Confident in the party but fucking hating I’m not going,” I say, exiting the truck and walking into the gas station.
“You know, technically, you’ll be the first partygoer,” he gives in a rare compliment.
“That’s not exactly true now, is it? How’s France?” I ask, pulling a soda from the cooler.
“Too much of the same.”
“I thought you’d be here today.” I weigh whether or not to tell him about Dom’s disappointment as he replies.
