When Brian opened the door to the two story single family house on Nash road, he found his friend Andy, broad smile, blond hair, bouncing from left to right. Brian glanced down at the black note book in Andy’s hand, then back up to his friends bobbing head and said, “It’s not even noon yet and you’re already dancing like an idiot.”
“I have to come in,” Andy said, keeping his voice low, but not able to hide his anxiety.
Brian stepped aside and said, “Please do, before you piss on my Mothers welcome mat.”
Andy still felt the need to shove his friend to the side as he stepped through the door. He made his way through the dining room and into the kitchen calling over his shoulder, “Guy’s in the basement?”
“Yea,” Brian called back as he closed the front door, watching Andy open the door in the kitchen that led to the basement. “And their just as pissed as I am that you woke us up on a Saturday,” he mumbled, knowing Andy would not hear him as he descended the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, Andy took four long, jumping strides, then flopped down into the brown lay-z-boy chair that faced the floral patter couch were one of his friends was laying down. The chair tipped, but did not fall over as he greeted his friends. He looked to his right, and saw Daryl - the youngest of the four; Daryl was to turn 18 in just a few days - sifting through games by the TV with his back turned, and giving Andy the finger. On the couch, Chris - Daryl’s older brother - was staring at Andy with a blank, yet somehow, questioning look in his eyes.
Catching Chris’s gaze, Andy’s right hand shot up from the arm of his chair. He twiddled his fingers, tilted his head, then slowly let a Cheshire grin spread across his face. To Chris, this was normal enough coming from Andy, just not on a Saturday morning.
“What-the-hell-man?” Chris asked his grinning friend in a groggy voice, and pausing in-between each word.
Andy did not answer. He knew what his friend was asking him, - Why are you here? Why so early? Why so fucking happy? What could be this important on a Saturday? - but elected not to answer until all four of them were in the room together. He continued to grin, staying quiet, and glanced around the room.
Chris sighed, and rolled onto his back to try and fall back to sleep. Daryl continued to sift through the large stack of various games. Andy sits, soaking in the site of the basement that he had been absent from for nearly three weeks, and noted that no changes were present.
Brian’s basement was still dressed up as a half bedroom, half sitting room. The walls were covered with posters of various rock, and metal bands. The pool table, old, worn, and scared, was covered with dirty laundry. The bed in the corner was unmade and surrounded by more dirty laundry. The second Lay-Z-Boy (once blue, now a faded grey) was facing the TV in its reclined position. It held a pillow and blanket, and was obviously the place ware Daryl had slept the night before. The windows are covered with dark colored sheets, but one of them is askew and letting in a sliver of morning sun that makes the rest of the basement look that much duller by comparison. In that sliver of light, dust is dancing and swirling. The coffee table between the couch and two chairs is cluttered with last night’s leftover fun, and a few comic books.
Andy, still grinning, turned his attention to the glowing dust floating through the slice of sun from the window with the crooked sheet. Chris was breathing slow and steady, but still obviously awake, and still annoyed. Daryl had found a game, and was sitting down in his chair to play when Brian came down the stairs, chomping spoons full of cereal from an orange bowl.
Brian walked over to the couch, set his orange bowl on top of the cluttered coffee table, bent over at the waist, hovered his ass over Chris’s head, and broke wind. It was low, but still audible, and came out in a long swoosh of air. Chris, hearing and smelling Brian’s gas, popped up like a jack in the box. Daryl caught the action out of the corner of his eye and laughed at his brother’s misfortune. Brian sat down in the newly opened space on the couch, and continued munching on his breakfast.
Chris turned to Brian, and then smacked the spoon from his hand as Brian was dipping it into the bowl for another bite. Brian looked at Chris, looked at the spoon between his feet, then bent over to pick it up, passing more wind in the process. “God damn it,” Chris growled. “Cut that shit out. Your ass smells like light beer and fermented pickle brine.” Brian picked up the dirty spoon, licked it clean, and continued eating.
“I would say it’s more like banana peppers,” Andy said with a grimace, “but rancid as hell should sum it up.”
“Good call my absent friend,” Daryl said from his chair. “We had peppers on the pizza last night.”
“Alright, alright,” Brian broke in, holding up one of his hands for silence. “That’s enough about how my diet has scented my anal reports, it’s time for the deserter to tell us what he’s been up to for the past three weeks, and why he had to wake us all up before noon on a weekend.”
“Damn strait,” Chris chimed in. “Except for school, your ass has been pretty scarce. You want to tell us what’s going on, and why you’ve been ignoring us in the halls?” Chris folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward.
Daryl paused his game, set his chair to the upright position and turned it to face the couch so that everyone was now sitting in a circle. Brian finished the cereal in the bowl, drank the milk, belched, then leaned back in his seat to hear what Andy had to say.
“Well I’ve been very busy,” Andy said, tapping the black note book that now sat across his lap. “It takes time and patients to plan a proper bank robbery.”
“Yeeeeeaa man,” Daryl said. He turned to Andy and changed his accent, “Firs da banks, den da liquor stores, den we move ta Idaho and buy some bitches and hoe’em out.” He laughed, stopped, shot a cold look into Andy’s eyes, then started to turn his chair back around.
Andy reached out and took hold of Daryl’s chair by the arm and said, “Hold on a sec. Hear me out. This could be the best thing you ever do.”
Daryl stopped turning his chair, and looked over toward his brother. Chris was looking at Andy. When he spoke his voice was awake, and somehow much younger. Not scared, just younger. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He asked Andy.
“What the hell Andy?” Brian asked. His head was back, and although his eyes were closed, Andy could tell he was rolling them back. “Why the fuck would any of us need to rob a damn bank?”
“My guess is the money,” Daryl said.
“Sarcastic, but true young man,” Andy Said. “Very true.”
“None of us need that kind of money though,” said Brian. “We all work, have cars, go to school. Our parents work, have cars, homes, savings accounts with plenty of cash inside. No debt. No danger. Why would anyone here want to get into something so heavy, and chance having any of that heat on our backs when our lives are relatively easy and even?”
Andy sighed, then said, “Because it’s not going to stay easy. Soon all of us will be in college and in debt up to our assholes. Our parents don’t have any debt, but they did. My Father finished his payments just last year. I don’t want that to be me.”
It was Brian’s turn to sigh before he spoke. “So you want to commit grand theft so you can be lazy after college? I don’t believe it.”
“There is more to it,” Andy responded. “You see I don’t want to be lazy.” He paused, leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees, and continued. “I want to have school paid and ready, then I can work, save half, party with the rest, invest well, and when I graduate I can have a house, or my own business. No debt. Less stress. How can anyone deny that kind of head start?” He clapped his hands together and leaned back.
“It’s still a lot of risk, with little reward.” Brian said.
“I don’t know about that,” Chris said with a curious tone that told Brian, Chris was falling for this nonsense. “I mean, life is a mother fucker,” he continued, “and if you’re not prepared it just grinds you down. That’s what happened to my uncle. Lost his house, lost his wife, lost his kids, all because he went bankrupt over some tax issue.” He turned to Brian, “Daryl is the only one of use with a scholarship that --
“Partial scholarship,” Daryl interrupted.
“Yes, thank you,” Chris continued after giving Daryl an annoyed look. “If we had enough cash to start out with, life could be a hell of allot easier down the road.”
Andy gave his pal a slow, acknowledging nod. Brian shrugged as if to say he did not know what he was saying, or hearing, but it all made sense. Brian shook his head in disbelief as Daryl spoke up, and fed the fire further. “If we did,” He began, “We would have to do more than one job because banks today don’t just give up the kind of money we’re talking about. Right?”
“Look assholes,” Brian said, angry now, and letting it show, “I just woke the fuck up and I don’t want to argue about whether or not we’re going to rob one bank, never mind several, so cut the shit.” He spat his last words while pointing a finger at Andy.
Andy held up his hands, palm out, but still smiling. “We don’t have to argue,” He said, “I’ve got it all figured out.”
“Bri’s right man,” Chris said. “Let’s squash this shit and talk about something else.”
“Good idea,” Daryl said. “Let’s go bowling.”
“Just hear me out,” Andy pleaded.
“Yes,” Brian cut in. “Let dip shit get it out of his system so we don’t have to hear about anymore.” He turned to Andy and held out his hand.
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