“Keep cool,” she repeated, feeling hot around the neck and armpits. “What do we do if he’s got a gun?”
“He won’t. Trust me, I’m a student of human nature. Whoever his boss is would never take the chance. Better to lose a couple grand than risk this kid shooting himself or someone else.”
Her heart kicked at her rib cage like it was trying to bust out.
“Don’t worry,” Manny said, gathering the strands of his dark hair into a short ponytail. “I always win.”
He rapped his knuckles against the dash. “Well?”
Had she looked him in the eyes he would have seen how happy she was. “Why the hell not?” she said. Manny patted her on the knee, got out of the car, turned, and rested his arms in the window. She slid over and adjusted the seat and mirrors.
“Now remember, keep it running and be cool. I’ll be back before you know it.” He turned toward the station, and as he walked away she saw the gun tucked between his waistband and the small of his back. From his back pocket, he pulled what looked like a green sock and worked it over his head. He turned around and winked through the ski mask, then disappeared around the whitewashed corner of the building.
She gripped the wheel to keep from trembling. The gun, the mask, the getaway. It was all new and terrifying. Had he been doing holdups all along and just now asked her to join? Hadn’t he trusted her enough before? She smacked both cheeks with her hands, then rehearsed the escape to focus her attention. Her eyes never left the corner where she had last seen him, where she willed him to return each passing moment. Every car that whipped by made her jump. She had expected shouting, screams, but all she could hear were the baritone idling of the engine and the sound of her own shallow breath. As much as she wanted to keep cool, she could only imagine the worst, the image of Manny with a handful of cash and a crisp bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
And then he was jogging toward her, a brown bag, neatly folded, in hand. Even with his mask on, he looked happy. In a few strides he slipped in beside her. She was so relieved she wanted to cry.
“You’re on,” he said. “No rush.” She eased her foot on the gas as she released the clutch, going slowly like he had said, scanned the road ahead for oncoming traffic. Then she heard a cowbell and a door clanging shut.
“Shhhh,” he said in response to her startling. A heavyset man in an orange hunting shirt and reflective sunglasses appeared at the rear entrance of the station.
“Who’s he?” she asked, slamming the gas. She let go the clutch too quickly and they lurched and stalled out.
“Hey!” the man said. “I called the cops! Y’all stop or I’m ohn hafta shootcha.”
Kit could scarcely breathe and felt prickly all over. This was the closest she had come to getting caught since the day Manny picked her up. The man raised a pistol from a straight arm and squinted.
“What’s he doing?” Kit said, her heart tearing around her chest. “Is he gonna shoot?”
“Easy does it,” Manny said, and when his hand grazed her neck it was cool and steady. She popped the gear into neutral, restarted the car, and engaged the clutch. The man released a round high over their heads.
“Jesus Christ,” she yelled, ducking her head out of sight.
“Hot dog! He’s not fuckin’ around. Okay, stay low,” Manny said and slid down in the seat. He was grinning, like this was fun for him. “And don’t worry. He wants to be a hero, but he’s scareder than you are.”
She took a large breath to calm her nerves, then, peering over the dash, shifted into first and swapped the clutch for the gas. They coasted forward and she repeated for second gear, then third, slipping easily down the path she had planned. Another round went off and when she looked in her rearview the man had dropped the gun to his side. Once they were on 77, she finally exhaled.
“Holy shit,” she said.
Manny was laughing. “Slow down, sister.”
The speedometer read 95 miles per hour. She downshifted to 65 and cruised in the direction of the motel, large with pride and feeling something like a woman.
Manny yoked his arm across her shoulders, fingers grazing her collarbone. His touch felt new and so did she. She felt like his partner, no longer his pet. Before, her feelings for him had confused her, but now, as calmly as she had handled the car, she reached up and worked her fingers between his. The beastly power of the engine beneath her, the expanse of the road ahead, she owned this moment and everything in it.
“Oh, shit, I almost forgot,” said Manny. He pulled from his waistband an icy, dripping bottle of Coke. He pressed the yellow callus of his thumb against the cap until it slid off. He wiped it dry with his shirttail, then passed it to her, and beaming, she grasped the bottle like a trophy.
The sun was slung low on the horizon, wrapped in gauzy clouds of sherbet. Kit was squinting to read the backlit exit sign when Manny signaled to get off the highway. As she parked in the spot closest to their motel room, she was already looking forward to debriefing the run, going over every moment, fine-tuning their approach. Manny walked around front and opened her door. She thought he was being chivalrous, something he only ever did when someone else was watching. She didn’t need special treatment, but she didn’t hate it either. Today, at least, she’d earned it.
Manny motioned with a flick of his fingers for her to get out, like sweeping crumbs. “You can leave it running,” he said. “I got somewhere to be.”
Kit was puzzled. She shut off the engine and got out of the car. She was a foot shorter than him, and she hated that she would never be big enough to meet him eye to eye. How could he take her seriously when he was looking down on her?
“Somewhere to be? Don’t you want to celebrate?”
Manny said nothing and dropped into the driver’s seat. All the levity of moments before stalled and sank. Kit felt thirteen again.
“Where are you going?” She was ashamed to hear the whine of disappointment in her voice. Manny looked to be elsewhere.
“I’ll be back before morning, probably.” He shifted the seat back, checked the mirror, and tongued a lemon drop from a little metal canister. “Don’t wait up.”