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  Beeks came over and tested the paint on the black mask with his finger; then he pulled it off its form. He stretched it over his glossy head and checked himself out in a mirror. One of the black circles went around the eye, like a pit bull. He smiled.

  "Not bad, boy," he said, adjusting the fit, his teeth gleaming through the mouth hole. "Not too damn bad."

  Aaron grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he received a compliment from anyone other than his mother, and maybe Willy.

  Needles laughed at the sight of his friend. "Nice, Beeks… really nice."

  "You can kiss my big, black ass," Beeks said, still admiring himself in the mirror. "I like it fine, motherfucker. I like it just fine."

  Needles selected the green horizontal stripes then tossed the pink polka-dots to Aaron.

  Chapter 27

  Aaron Goes to Work

  It was 9 a.m. when Beeks loaded the last of the equipment into the white van. Needles had briefed Aaron on procedure.

  "You think you got it?" Needles asked.

  Aaron's heart was racing in anticipation, but he had no clue what they were actually heading out to do. But it was an adventure, and he loved adventure — its mystery, its excitement, its remoteness from everyday life. "I think so," he replied, doubtfully.

  "Okay," Needles said. "Let's get it done."

  – Needles took the driver's seat, and Beeks, still masked, rode shotgun. They pulled out and waited in the street while Aaron rolled the big door closed. He jumped into the back of the van, and when Needles hit the gas they were half way down the block before Aaron managed to get the van's side door shut.

  – While Needles negotiated traffic, Beeks tapped out a beat on the dashboard. He turned to Aaron and extended his hand.

  "They call me Beeks," he said. "This here's Needles."

  Aaron shook their hands, making sure to use a firm grip this time. "I'm Aaron," he said, grinning from ear to ear like a naive new-hire who just signed on as one of the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang.

  Beeks tossed him a walkie-talkie. "Here," he said, "you're gonna need that."

  Aaron turned the radio over in his hand and recalled how he and Willy used to love to play with walkie-talkies. They would spend hours roaming the city, chatting to each other about who knows what — until Willy lost his, that is.

  – Needles parked the white van in front of Western Federal Bank and turned to Aaron. "Do you remember what I told you?"

  Aaron went over his short list of duties list in his mind. "Yes sir," he said.

  "Okay, take your position."

  Aaron climbed into the driver's seat, and he and Needles pulled on their masks. Beeks pondered Souther's decision to send a young boy with them on a job.

  "You think you can handle this, boy?" he asked.

  Aaron peered out from behind his polka-dots. "I don't know. I'm pretty scared."

  Beeks laughed. "You should be, boy. I'd be too if I was you."

  "Check your radios," Needles said, and they did. "Okay… let's move out."

  Needles and Beeks shouldered their gear and entered the bank through the front entrance. Aaron stayed behind, clutching his walkie-talkie, watching the street from his seat in the van.

  – After ten minutes, Aaron grew restless. He checked the mirrors again and his heart jumped into his throat. A police cruiser was heading his way, and fast, lights blazing.

  "Oh, crap! " he said, fumbling for the TALK button on his radio. He pictured all of them being cuffed with zip ties and hauled off to jail. But the cruiser simply blew past him and turned left, away from the bank. Aaron took in a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and exhaled slowly.

  – BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! The bank's alarm had gone off. Aaron sat bolt upright and promptly dropped his walkie-talkie. " Damn it! " he said as he groped between the seats. He retrieved his radio and looked up just in time to see the thugs burst out of the bank dragging loaded duffel bags. He started the van then jumped in back and rolled the side door open. The thugs tossed the loot inside and jumped into the front seats.

  Needles smoked the tires, and the gang made their getaway.

  – Beeks turned to Aaron, breathing hard. "Tell me this ain't fun, boy!" he said, flashing a huge white smile.

  Aaron was totally pumped. He fist bumped Beeks and grinned ear to ear.

  Riding high on the successful heist, Needles decided to make a day of it. He filled up the van at the nearest gas station, and then he and Beeks took Aaron with them on an afternoon crime spree that would have made Clyde Barrow proud.

  City Heights Bank… robbed.

  North Park Savings and Loan… cleaned out.

  Bank of Nations… fleeced.

  Under Needles's skilled leadership, every job ran like clockwork. They finished up the day with a van load of cash and a young teenage boy whose life had, once again, been changed forever.

  Chapter 28

  Pay Day

  It was just after 5 p.m. when the white van rolled into the cannery. Everyone got out, and Beeks began unloading the haul.

  Aaron was overflowing with adrenaline; he walked circles to contain himself. "That was incredible!" he said, high-fiving Needles. "What a rush!"

  Souther had been waiting for them. He dumped the contents of one of the fat duffel bags onto a table.

  Cash… piles of it.

  "Good job, boys," he said. He counted out several stacks of $100s for his thugs, then picked up a bundle of $5 bills and tossed them to Aaron.

  Aaron caught the money with both hands and his eyes bugged out. "Whoa," he said. "What's this?" He figured he held $500 in his hands.

  "That's your cut," Souther said, as if it were obvious.

  "You're kidding," Aaron said. He certainly hadn't expected to get paid today, and $500 was more than his family's food budget for a month.

  "You earned it," Souther said. "There's plenty more where that came from if you play your cards right." He stuffed the rest of the cash back into the duffel bag. "Let me know if you want to blow some of it on a whore, okay? I can arrange it."

  Needles and Beeks laughed knowingly, but Aaron only gave up a sheepish grin.

  Souther could back his statement up, of course, having spent countless nights over the years in the company of hookers, and he proceeded to share some of his titillating whore stories with the group.

  Aaron was riveted, gripped by a raging torrent of hormones, and he lapped up every last syllable. Souther got a charge out of seeing his reactions, and he teased him with ever expanding layers of graphic detail.

  – Souther concluded his thrilling monologue with an anecdote that had even Needles and Beeks blushing. Then he paused — he had left out one very important detail regarding his knowledge of the business of prostitution. A secret he'd been keeping (even from Needles and Beeks) for nearly ten years, now. But he decided not to mention it — not yet at least.

  "I'll bet your mother could use some cash of her own," he said at last, looking for another reaction from Aaron.

  The left-field comment confused Aaron and left him feeling queasy, his enthusiasm shriveling. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said.

  "Forget about it," Souther said casually. He had gotten what he wanted.

  Aaron felt a sudden aversion toward the money. He tossed the bundle of bills on the table like so much rotten meat.

  His cell phone lay on the table. Souther picked it up and handed it to him. "Here," he said. "I believe that's yours."

  The odd gesture only served to confuse Aaron further. He searched Souther's eyes for a long moment then slipped the phone into his pocket.

  Chapter 29

  No Onions

  Michael sat on the couch in his loft, staring at a blank TV screen. He checked his watch. 7:10 p.m. He hadn't heard a word from Aaron since dropping him off at home the night before and he was deeply concerned. He pulled the slip of paper with Aaron's number on it out of his pocket and looked at it for a moment. Then he entered the number into his phone and pressed CALL.


  – Souther had some fast food spread out across his expansive desk. Needles and Beeks were there, and Aaron had been invited to join them.

  Beeks unwrapped his cheeseburger, lifted the top bun and looked inside. He wasn't happy. "Which one of you sons-of-bitches got my damn burger?" he said.

  "Chill out, Beeks," Needles said. "No one got your damn food."

  Aaron felt like part of the team, now, and comfortable enough to contribute to the conversation. "Mine looks okay," he said.

  Beeks scratched the onions out of his burger. "I specifically told 'em 'No damn — '"

  "Shut up," Souther said, holding up his hand. "I hear something…"

  "I think it's me," Aaron said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He didn't recognize the incoming number, but he tapped ANSWER anyway then held the phone up to his ear.

  "I'll take that," Souther said, reaching across the desk, and Aaron gave up his phone.

  – Michael was confused by the rustling. " Aaron? " he said.

  "Who's speaking?" Souther said.

  Michael looked at his phone for a moment, then pressed END CALL.

  Souther slid the phone back across the desk to Aaron.

  "Who was it?" Aaron asked.

  "Wrong number," Souther replied.

  – Michael walked over and lifted his jacket off its chair, slipping his phone into the inside pocket. But as he started for the door, he hesitated and swapped the light jacket for a heavier coat.

  — Souther leaned back in his chair. "Things are heating up a bit around here," he said. "Tomorrow's job is the big score we need so we can lay low for a while."

  Aaron glanced at the others and listened attentively. He looked forward to the thrill of riding lookout again. And as far as he was concerned, his current earnings were already spent.

  "I'll be in charge this time around," Souther continued then he looked straight at Aaron, "and you're going inside with me."

  Aaron looked around to see who Souther was referring to. Beeks and Needles looked at each other and then at Aaron.

  "Oh, you mean me?" Aaron said, pointing to himself. "Inside? In the bank? While you rob it?"

  "While we rob it," Souther said. He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk.

  Aaron knew very well that his big day of riding lookout qualified him to ride lookout — nothing more. He pictured a few of the bank robberies he had seen on TV and in movies, but he couldn't see himself playing any of the parts. The idea was totally absurd.

  "But I've only been a lookout," he said. "I–I'm not ready to go inside."

  "You'll be fine," Souther said, as if it happened every day. "Besides, the pay for an inside man is fifty times what it was riding lookout."

  Aaron thought about that for a moment. $25,000 was an incomprehensible sum. It could mean a whole new start for him and his mom.

  "Give me your phone, kid," Souther said. "What's your mother's number?"

  Aaron paused, confused, and almost asked why. But instead he chose not to. It wouldn't help to argue. "She's in my contacts," he said. "Here, let me do it." He set up the call then reluctantly handed over his phone again.

  – Ashley lunged for her phone, catching it after the first ring. "Hello?" she said.

  "Have you ever been to Sally's Diner?" Souther said.

  Her heart sank — she had hoped for someone better. "No," she replied. "I don't think so."

  "I want to do an exchange," Souther said.

  Ashley's hand went to her mouth. She knew from Souther's inflection that he wanted more than mere ransom money. "What kind of exchange?" she asked.

  "Aaron's freedom for yours."

  The motel room closed in around her, and she reached for the bed as the floor fell away.

  Aaron tried to grab his phone. "What are you doing? " he cried.

  Souther touched his index finger to his lips and gave Aaron a look that made him sit down. Then he continued with Ashley.

  "I believe that to be a fair exchange," he said. "Does that sound fair to you, Ashley?"

  Ashley dug deep, but found nothing — she was empty. Her knees grew weak and she sat on the edge of the bed.

  "Ashley?"

  She placed her hand over her heart, summoning all of her will. "Yes," she said at last, her voice small and lifeless. "I think that's fair."

  "Excellent," Souther said with a smile. He was pleased with how this was going.

  Aaron couldn't believe what he was hearing. He reached for his phone again, but Souther turned away from him and continued his conversation.

  "I'd like you to meet me at Sally's Diner tomorrow night at 6:30," he said.

  Ashley could no longer contain herself. "Why meet at Sally's? Why not send one of your goons and just take me? You know where the hell I am."

  Souther became cruelly patronizing. "You're a grown woman, Ashley. I want this to be your decision."

  Ashley closed her eyes and touched her fingers to the bridge of her nose. You want what to be my decision? Whether or not I kill myself? She was tempted to refuse him, but of course there was no way she could do that. She replied slowly, scarcely breathing.

  "Okay," she said. "You win. I'll be there."

  Souther was deeply satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, then looked at Aaron while he spoke to her.

  "Listen carefully," he said. "If you tell anyone about this meeting… your son dies. If you stand me up or show up late… your son dies. If I see anyone with you at the diner… well, I think you get my point."

  Ashley felt as though she might faint at any moment. "I need to talk to Aaron," she said.

  "Well, aren't you a lucky girl," Souther said with the sincerity of a veteran game show host. "He's sitting right here." He handed the phone to Aaron. "She wants to talk to you."

  Aaron took the phone. "Hello?" he said.

  Ashley couldn't believe it was actually him. " Aaron? " she said. "It's me. It's Mommy."

  Tears welled in Aaron's eyes. "Don't worry, okay, Mom? I'm fine. I love you. I'll call y — "

  Souther snatched the phone. "And, Ashley," he added, "don't be a fool and try to save the world or something."

  Tears flowed from Ashley's eyes. She was exhausted. "Mister," she said softly, "I don't want to save the damn world… I just want to save my little boy."

  "I'll see you in twenty-four hours," Souther said coldly. Then he hung up and slid the phone back to Aaron.

  – Aaron was incredulous. "What was that all about?" he cried. "You said if I helped you my mom would be safe!"

  "Oh, I didn't mean any of that," Souther explained. "I was just messing with her." He leaned forward and rested a patronizing hand on Aaron's knee. "You trust me, don't you, kid? I'd never want to hurt you… or your mother."

  Aaron pulled away, sickened by the evil that was Johnny Souther. "You're a liar!" he said. "I hate you! " He buried his face in his hands.

  Souther casually wadded up the trash and chucked it out his office window. "If I were you, kid," he said darkly, "I'd choose my words a bit more carefully in the future.

  Chapter 30

  Target Practice

  Needles and Beeks took Aaron out of Souther's office and headed down the walkway toward the stairs. Aaron felt like he'd been hit by a truck.

  Needles wanted to tell him not to worry about what Souther had said back there, but he knew Aaron wouldn't want to hear it.

  Instead he turned to him and said, "Would you be interested in taking a tour of the practice range?"

  Aaron looked up. "The what?"

  "You know — the shooting range. Target practice. I thought maybe you could use a distraction about now."

  Aaron had encountered many different shooting ranges in his video games, but he had never seen a real one. "Uh… sure." he said. "Where is it?"

  "I'll show you," Needles said. He looked at Beeks. "Are you coming with us?"

  Beeks wasn't interested; he preferred to use the range alone. Besides, he had other plans. "No,
" he replied. "I got things I gotta do. Y'all go on without me."

  Aaron had hoped he'd join them. "See ya, Beeks," he said with a little disappointed wave.

  Beeks nodded and headed off to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

  – Needles lit a lantern, and Aaron followed him to the far west-end of the cannery. Cut into the wood floor in an out-of the-way first-floor corridor was a trap door held in place by two heavy iron hinges. Needles set the lantern on the floor, flipped up the large recessed pull-ring, turned it a half a turn, and yanked open the hatch.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  Aaron nodded.

  Needles swung the heavy door over and lowered it to the floor, and then, using the lantern to light the way, he led Aaron down the steep wooden steps into a dark basement.

  – It's like an old ship's ladder, Aaron thought as he descended. He could only imagine what kind of crappy firing range the thugs had cobbled together in such a dark, out-of-the-way space.

  "What do you use for targets?" he asked, doubtfully.

  Needles was proud of the range he and Beeks had built, and he knew Aaron was in for a nice surprise. "You'll see," he replied.

  Aaron stepped off the ladder onto a dirt floor and for a brief moment he thought he was back in his cell. But then Needles held the lantern high and the practice range loomed into view.

  – At first glance Aaron was disappointed. He naturally compared the space to the high-tech, brightly lit ranges he knew from video games. This range was tiny and as dark as a cave. The ceiling was very low; the 2 x 12 floor joists that supported the floor above ran the length of the space and they barely cleared Needles's head. Exposed electrical wiring wound between rusting cast-iron water and sewer pipes that ran in every direction.

  The range had just one shooting booth and one firing lane, and the bullet trap — a wall of earth created when the cannery's foundations were dug — was a mere fifty feet away.

  Not great for rifles, Aaron thought, but okay for pistols. He was pleased, however, to see that the range had a rudimentary target carrier system for loading fresh targets — a major convenience.