This is when I understood my participation in the plan was no longer essential. All they needed from me was the code, and I’d already turned it over.
Clark rested the Claw on my shoulder. “Relax, Billy. Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll do the plan exactly like we prepared. No changes. We’ll just have an extra helper.”
But I knew it wasn’t that simple. Something about Tyler’s story didn’t add up. “The guy’s eighteen years old. A senior. If he wants a Playboy, he can just walk into a store and buy one.”
“Stop being a tightass,” Alf said. “We finally have a senior on our side—a cool person trying to help us—and you’re being a dick.”
“Because he’s lying,” I said. “He was fired from Zelinsky’s for stealing.”
“So what?” Alf asked.
“So he’s dishonest!”
“Of course he’s dishonest! We’re breaking into a store! To steal Playboy! You want to bring a Boy Scout?”
We argued back and forth in whispers, then stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone was coming. Clark was closest to the end, so he peeked out.
“It’s them,” he whispered.
“Them?” I asked.
Clark shrugged. “I guess Tyler brought a friend?”
I nudged him aside to see for myself. Tyler and his friend were walking right in the middle of the access road, right where anyone could see them. Tyler recognized me and pointed.
“What’s up, pussy?” he called. “Why you hiding?”
Tyler grinned, but his friend had a flat, neutral expression. The friend was a man, a full-grown man, thirty or forty or fifty years old. He had a brown beard and long brown hair braided into a ponytail. He looked like a cross between Willie Nelson and Sasquatch.
“Where’s your girlfriends?” Tyler asked.
Alf and Clark stood up, gesturing for Tyler to keep his voice down. “Tack is doing patrols,” Clark whispered. “He starts on Liberty Place and walks west on Market Street, then cuts through the alley—”
Tyler waved a hand, cutting him off. “Tack’s not catching nobody. That shitbird couldn’t catch AIDS at a faggot convention.”
“He’ll be here any minute,” Clark said.
“Then let’s get started,” Tyler said.
Alf nodded at the stranger. “Who’s this?”
“My cousin,” Tyler said. “This is Rene.”
Rene looked at us with dead eyes. He wore a green army jacket and faded jeans, and there was a large canvas bag slung over his shoulder. There was no further explanation. Suddenly this psycho Hells Angels lunatic was part of our gang, and I knew I had to get away.
“There’s a problem,” I said.
“A problem?” Tyler asked.
I have always been a terrible liar. Alf could spin bullshit all day long and even Clark could stretch the truth now and then, but I was a terrible fibber. “I think Mary changed the code. After I saw her use it. Just to be safe.”
Tyler turned on Alf, grabbing his fatigues and pushing him up against the wall. “You told me he had the code. You said it was one-zero-zero-two.”
“That’s what he told me!” Alf sputtered. He turned to glare at me. “Tell him the truth, Billy!”
“Maybe that’s the code, maybe it’s not,” I said. “That’s the problem, I don’t know. There’s a chance we get in the store and the alarm goes off anyway.”
Rene never moved or changed his expression. I was starting to wonder if he even understood English.
“So why are you here?” Tyler asked. “Did you come here to warn us?”
I nodded. “I don’t want anyone to get busted.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” Tyler said. “You put on your ninja costume and sneak out here at twelve thirty just to warn us? That’s really considerate, Billy.”
His right hand swung out, and I braced myself for a punch. Instead he reached around to my back pocket and yanked out the crowbar. “So why’d you bring this?” He shoved me against the Dumpster and pushed the tip of the crowbar into my throat, like he was getting ready to pry off my head. “Why are you lying?”
It was hard to speak with twelve inches of steel pressed into my trachea. “I’m trying to help you,” I said, but the words came out like croaks.
“Easy, easy,” Alf said, trying hard to keep the peace. “We all want the same thing, guys. We’re all here to see Vanna White’s hoo-ha, am I right? Let’s keep our eyes on the prize. That’s the important thing.”
Wrong, I thought. Tyler and Rene weren’t going through all this trouble just to see Vanna White’s hoo-ha. They were clearly after something bigger.
Tyler’s eyes were inches from mine. He was searching my face for signs of duplicity. Finally he released me, and I slunk to the ground, clutching my throat, surprised to find that I wasn’t actually bleeding, just scratched.
“Get the crates,” Tyler said.
“Now you’re talking,” Alf said. “Let’s do this!”
Earlier in the evening, Clark had stolen some milk crates from the loading dock of the Food World and stored them in the Dumpster behind General Tso’s. Now Alf was climbing into the Dumpster and passing the crates to Clark, who stacked them under the fire ladder in a pyramid. If I was going to bolt, this was my last chance. I couldn’t beat Tyler in a footrace—but if I made it to the backyards along High Street, I’d have a decent chance of escaping him. I knew all the hidden gaps in the fences; there were plenty of trees and gardens and toolsheds that would conceal me.
But what then? If I managed to escape, they’d just go into Zelinsky’s without me. And I couldn’t let that happen. Anything that went wrong at the store would be my fault. If I was going to keep it safe, I’d have to help Tyler and Rene break into it.
Up in the second-floor window, Arnold Schwarzenegger rose to his feet, turned around in a circle, and sat down again.
“You guys go to the roof,” Alf said. “I’ll ring the doorbell.”
Tyler pointed me toward the ladder. “Ladies first.”
I wiped my palms on my jeans—it wasn’t particularly warm, but I was sweating like crazy—and walked up the crates. When I stood on top, I was just tall enough to grab the bottom rung of the ladder, but I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up. My arms were shaking too much.
Clark grabbed my legs and gave me a boost. “Plant your feet against the bricks,” he said. “Walk yourself up, all right?”
I was surprised by the calm in his voice. From the way he spoke, you’d think we broke into stores every weekend. With Clark pushing from below, I was able to reach for the second rung, then a third, until I was finally standing upright on the ladder.
“Sweet Jesus,” Tyler said, marveling at our incompetence. “I can’t tell which one of you is more crippled.”