It’s 7 PM. The sky is overcast. A beat up, faded black Toyota with rusted fenders pulls next to the curb on Riverside Drive. Three men wearing Fedoras, dark rim plastic glasses with a fake plastic nose attached sit inside the Toyota. The six pair of eyes are watching the driveway leading to a large 8,000 square foot house.
The Tuna glances to his left at Tony. “Are you sure Connie left for the day?”
Tony turns toward the Tuna and says, “She text me when she got home. She told me the Van Worthingtons are going to the symphony. Got a question, Tune, what’s a symphony. Is that some kind of sin Catholics don’t have to worry about?”
Nick, who is sitting in the backseat, says, “I think it’s only a sin if you’re a methadontist.”
Tuna says, “It’s Methodist. I don’t think it’s a sin.” The Tuna doesn’t want to get into a discussion about symphonies, classical music, or theology.
“I heard it somewhere, Tuna. You think it’s the proctologists?”
The Tuna’s feels a headache coming on. He says, “Enough of the small talk. Nick, Joey tell you how to disarm the alarm system and get into the safe?”
Nick says, “Uh huh. What I don’t understand is why were putting something in the safe. Usually, we take stuff out of the safe. Maybe, there’s some good stuff we can grab, what do you think?”
The Tuna says, “Don’t take nothing. I don’t want you messing with the recipe.”
“You putting a recipe in the safe, Tuna? Is it one your mama handed down from her mama?” asks Nick.
The Tuna wishes he could get better help. He ignores Nick and gestures at Tony, “Tone, you drive around the block. This shouldn’t take us more than 10 minutes. We’re going in and out. You check the car to make sure nothing is wrong?”
“My car is purring like a dog.”
“Dogs don’t purr, Tony. Dolphins the ones that purr,” says Nick.
“Thanks, Nick. I’m always learning something from you. Tune, can I go inside with you and Nick. I always have to do the driving,” whines Tony.
“I call you my wheel man. Not everyone can qualify to be a wheelman,” says the Tuna thinking I got to give him something he can do, my options are limited.
“Is that something special?” says Tony.
“It is so special you are the only one who qualifies to be my wheel man,” says the Tuna. The Tuna adds, “You got the stuff, Nick.”
“It’s tucked under my Dollar Store bandit t-shirt. Thanks for having them made up. It makes me feel like I am in a special club. I ain’t never been in an official club before,” says Nick.
The Tuna says, “Tone, pull up in front of the driveway. Drive around the block. We’ll be out in ten minutes. Be waiting for us. Don’t stop for donuts or coffee. Don’t stop for a sub sandwich. Don’t stop for a drink. You understand?” asks the Tuna.
Tony pulls up in front of the driveway, stops and glances at the Tuna, “Which part am I sposed to understand, Tune? Can I stop for a pack of gum? What about a hotdog? If I see the taco truck can I stop and get a taco?” asks Tony.
The Tuna feels his hand subconsciously move toward his pocket for a gun. He doesn’t have a gun, so Tony is safe, for the moment. The Tuna says, “I’m gonna make it simple, stop for stop signs, people in a crosswalk, a red light, and God forbid, a cop. That’s the complete list.”
Tony says, “Is it OK if I text while I drive? I was thinking of texting Roxie.”
“Nick, lets go before I do something I do not want to do,” says the Tuna.
Nick and the Tuna get out of the Toyota and walk up the driveway toward the house. Tony signals his intention to pull out and drives ahead. He reaches the intersection, signals to make a right turn when a police cruiser pulls up behind him.