The first thing I did was go to the bathroom and splash my face with cool water in hope that it would refresh me and clear the lingering blur from my brain. It didn't. I grabbed a black T-shirt and a pair of dark-blue jeans and kept them hidden as I carried them out of the house. I couldn't believe I was doing this.
Once Vince and Eyeball finished clearing the way for the '49, Ace and I headed out. We drove into town and up Grand street, glancing in at the liquor store as we rolled by. I had expected him to pull in, but his foot stayed planted on the gas. We drove all the way through town and out to the main highway with him fidgeting and tapping on the wheel.
"Are you OK?" I asked.
"I'm pissed off."
"You didn't pay for the beer, right?"
"I would've."
"But he doesn't owe you anything..."
"Oh, he owes me. He said he'd sell me some piss and he didn't come through. Every party I've had, I never run out of alcohol and it ain't happening tonight just because of that gutless bastard."
"OK... so, what's the plan?"
"Like I said, we do it clean. You handle the locks and we grab a few boxes. The old codger won't even know he's missing some until the next stock-take."
"Where are we going now then?"
He looked over at me. "It doesn't matter how quick the job is, Cassie, never leave any evidence behind that can link you to the crime."
We turned into his driveway, and his headlights lit up his sad-looking house as we rolled down into the basin. We parked up and he turned off the engine. The moonlight was dimmed by a thin blanket of cloud, and I could see well enough, but still managed to trip up on the low front porch as I followed him into the house.
When he switched on the lights, I saw inside for the first time. The wooden floorboards were bare, the kitchen cupboards were unpainted and the dining table was chipped and scarred with cigarette burns. But, apart from a few dishes in the sink and some grease from the stove-top splattered up the wall, the place looked fairly clean.
We moved into the living room which was in the center of the house. Three tatty sofas were arranged in a U, with the middle one facing a television and hi-fi system.
Ace picked up a black T-shirt that was lying on one of the sofa arms and sniffed it. He peeled off his leather jacket and then ripped his white T-shirt off, right over his head. My jaw dropped open like the full force of gravity had taken hold of it. He was standing there in just black jeans, his barely sun-kissed body with minimal blond chest hair and worker abs exposed to my eye's delight. He grabbed his black T again and pulled it on, and he said something, but I barely caught it.
"Huh?" I asked.
"I said, you can change in the bathroom. Meet me out at the shed."
"Oh. Right."
I found the bathroom down the hall and changed into my dark attire. On the way out, I saw two doors in the hallway, one wide open and the other just a crack. I crept down there with the floorboards creaking under my feet. OK. So, I was snooping around - I admit it - but curiosity had got the better of me. By the light of the bathroom, I peered into the room that had its door wide open and saw that it was empty apart from an unmade bed. I guessed it was a spare bedroom. I went to the door that was partially closed and peeked inside.
An unmade double bed was squished up against the far-right corner of the room and a set of bedside draws had a clock, lamp and other junk piled on top. The walls were dotted with pictures of girls pouring over hot rods and muscle cars, there were greasy car parts and clothes all over the floor, and the top of the large dresser at the end of the room was covered with bolts, screws and a pile of car magazines (and the other kind too, I'm sure). This was a typical car enthusiast boys room. From what I could tell, Ace was car mad through and through.
I tossed my lighter colored clothes into the front seat of his car and heard him call me from the garage. I wandered in to find myself surrounded by luxury. A deep purple, '38 Dodge pickup sat to my right and a smooth, black '51 Lincoln with whitewalls and rear suicide doors sat to my left.
"Are these yours?" I asked, running my hand over the hood of the dodge.
"They're in my garage, aren't they?" he said, wiping at the spot I had touched with a cloth.
"Are we taking one of these? Why?"
"Everyone in town knows my car. What if someone sees it parked out the back of the store?"
"Hmm. Gee Ace, I'm beginning to think you've done something like this before."
He dropped the hood and threw me a set of keys and an old pair of gardening gloves. "We'll take the Lincoln. Back it out and I'll close the doors." I noticed he was wearing gloves as well, but they were nice black leather ones. Professional looking.
"You do realize I've never backed a car before, right?"
"About time you learned." He walked out of the garage, leaving me nervously standing beside the huge car.
It was obvious the gloves were to prevent our prints from getting on the car – if we had to leave it and run, they could print it and trace us. I pulled them on before sliding into the car's white leather interior. It felt sensational like I was sitting on a soft marshmallow. I turned the keys in the ignition to be rewarded with the sound of a soft hum which gently vibrated through my body. With no idea what I was doing, with barely any ability to see where I was going, I simply put the car into reverse, kept the steering wheel straight and gently put my foot down. I just kept on backing until I was in the yard.
"Turn, turn!" I heard Ace yelling.
And then I felt a little bump, so I immediately took my foot off the accelerator.
I wound down the window and looked behind me to see what happened.
"You hit the fucking house..." Ace said.
"Oops," I blushed. "In all fairness, it's pretty dark..."
He cuffed me over the back of the head. "Turn on your headlights."
"Ow... Oh. Right."
I eventually found where to turn the headlights on and the garage lit up in front of me. I put the car into first and, with a few bunny hops, managed to drive it forwards and park it with the nose to the road.
I shuffled over to the passenger's side to wait for Ace who was closing the garage doors behind me. The back door of the Lincoln soon swung open and a hand trolley was tossed onto the back seat.
"You still got your lucky charms on you?" he asked, before joining me in what felt like a small slice of heaven.
"Always."
He slowly pulled the quiet beast out onto the highway, and my stomach fluttered with a swarm of butterflies that came in an instant and then flew away just as quick. This was it – there was no more time for nerves, no time for feeling half-drunk, and no time for thinking about how hot Ace looked behind the wheel of that Lincoln. It was time to forget all of that and focus.
-2-
Our plan was simple: We'd park in the back street behind the drug store which was two doors down from the liquor store. I'd move first and get the door open and then wait for Ace to come with the hand trolley. One load was all we'd take.
The main street was vacant and sparsely dotted with streetlights which glowed dimly in the warm night. We drove past the front of the liquor store once again to check that the lights were off inside and the way was clear. We pulled into a side street and then Ace slowly reversed the quiet beast into the dusty back street, parking in the shadows behind the drug store. He turned off the ignition and we sat in concealed silence for a second while I psyched myself up.
"Ready?" Ace asked.
"Do I have a choice?"
We crept out of the car leaving the doors ajar. The dusty back street served about six or so stores, and each end of it linked up with a street off the main road. An eight-foot-high brick wall ran the length of it and looked impossible to scale. That meant we only had two exit routes to choose from if we had to make a run for it.
"Go for it, Cass," Ace whispered.
I made my way over to the back of the liquor store with the gravel crunching conspicuously under my feet. The brick wall blocked the moonlight and the store buildings blocked all light from the street. When I got to the store, all I could see was the shape of the door in the darkness; I couldn't see the lock at all. I pulled off the gloves and tucked them into one back pocket while pulling my tiny tools out of the other. Two thin pieces of wire were what I would use – one with a right-angle hook on the end and the other with a flat head, which I used as a tension wrench.
My head buzzed with adrenaline as I ran my hand over the lock for my touch to help my poor vision. I managed to insert my wires, and started from the back, working my way forward, pushing each pin up and resting them on the ledge above the shear line. The tools kept slipping in my sweaty hands and I lost it a couple of times and had to start again.
"Why's it taking so long?" Ace whispered, coming in close next to me.
"I don't know; maybe it's because I'm just a little out of practice, I'm half pissed and I can't see!"
"Move faster."
I felt the final pin lift and rest on the ledge and I grinned as I knew I had it done. I turned the tension wrench around fully and pushed the door open a crack. The lock popped out again as soon as I pulled out my wires, meaning the door would relock itself when we were ready to pull it closed. Bonus.
"Get the trolley," I whispered to Ace, not realizing he'd already disappeared.
I gave the door a soft push, and to my terror, it let out a long, loud, scary whining sound. I grabbed the door to stop the noise and then just listened. I checked around to make sure no neighboring house lights came on, but the houses slept on.
I slipped my gloves back on and carefully walked inside, into the shallow corridor. There were two doors: The door to my immediate left was locked and the door to the front of the store was wide open. A faint light from the street came in through that door, making it easier to see than before.
"We need to get into there," Ace whispered, pointing to the locked door as he stepped inside with the trolley.
I bent down to inspect the lock. The keyhole underneath was big enough for me to poke my fingertip into.
"Damn, it's a lever lock," I whispered.
"Is that good?"
"Not for the owner, it's not." I pulled out my fatter piece of wire and had the door open in a couple of seconds. "He really should know better."
"You're gonna teach me that one day," Ace said.
"I charge by the hour and my rate ain't cheap," I said, giving him a cheeky grin.
"I think you'll do it for me for free." He pushed past me, wheeling the hand trolley which had a quiet, repetitive squeak.
"I was kidding. And you call me a stiff..."
"Just shut up and load up," he said. "And do it fast."
Box by box, we stacked eight high leaving, what I thought was, an obvious dent in the remaining pile of boxes.
"You really think they won't notice?" I asked.
"Fuck it. Come on, let's go."
Ace wheeled the beer outside and quickly disappeared from my sight. I easily locked the door to the cool room and was about to follow him when, for the first time since we arrived, I realized that the largest stockpile of alcohol in Castle Rock was just a few feet behind me. I tried to turn away from it. I told myself 'no'. But temptation was perched on my shoulder, telling me how quick and easy it would be to have my own bottle to sip on whenever I needed a sedative. Whenever I couldn't sleep. It made lots of justifications. Butterflies were swarming in my belly, and with every second that passed, they seemed to swam in greater numbers.
"Fuck it," I said, copying Ace's words.
I darted into the storefront, arriving the in the back corner of the small room. Rows and rows of liquor bottles were stocked on high shelving units that lined every wall. There were even two double-sided shelving units down the center strip. It was the only liquor store in town, and from the look of it, they kept the locals well hydrated.
I reached for the first bottle I saw and turned it towards the windows to catch the moonlight. "Ugh... what is that?" I wondered. The name wasn't at all appealing. I tried the next bottle and the next but had never heard of any of them. I thought about how disappointed I would feel if I grabbed something that tasted disgusting and I couldn't drink it.
Not even a minute had passed from when Ace left me alone, but even that was far too long. I had to hurry up. It was then that I thought maybe all the real expensive brews were kept behind the counter, and so I dashed behind there and scanned the shelves.
"Yes!" I whispered. I took a big bottle of JD's off the shelf and then, in another split-second decision, took another. At that moment, I wondered why I hadn't brought a bag.
"Shit, Cassie. That's enough," I scolded myself. I moved to leave, but suddenly, I heard the sound of a key being inserted into the front door of the store. I ducked down low behind the counter, and the bright lights came on, almost blinding me after being in near-darkness for so long.
I ached to scurry through into the corridor, but the gap between it and the counter I was hiding behind meant I would likely be seen and if not, heard. All I could do was remain low and silent. I was literally on my knees, begging that they'd quickly get what they came for and leave again. I strained my ears to listen as a single set of footsteps paced quickly around the store. They stopped twice, and I heard the clinking of bottles both times. I guessed the person was thirsty.
The footsteps paused for a few seconds, which seemed like a lifetime to me, and then to my terror they began to stride in my direction. Small beads of sweat were making my shirt stick to my skin. I held my breath and flattened my back against the counter as best as I could. The tinker of two bottles tapping together sounded right above me as the person placed them down on the counter. I couldn't help but glance up to make sure they weren't leaning over it... and it was then that I got the shock of my life.
I could see him clear as day in a large security mirror which had been fixed high up in the corner of the store. It was a guy, and he was young. Too young to own the store, and probably too young to drink... legally. He was browsing the selection of bottles that were on the shelves above me. Looked like he had expensive taste too. If I could see him so well in the mirror, then he would see me too if he happened to look up there. One movement would be sure to catch his eye.
Beeeeep-beeeeep! A long, high-pitched car horn came from outside. I saw the guy grab his two bottles, and then his slightly warped figure shrunk in the mirror as he sprinted for the front door. The lights switched off to leave me in blackness again and I heard the turn of a key as he relocked the door.
I bolted for the corridor and then tore out the back entrance. I stuffed one bottle under my arm so I could close the door, and I did so as quietly and yet as quickly as I could. When I made it back to the car, I realized Ace was nowhere to be seen. I tucked the bottles down on the floor of the car to hide them and then impatiently paced around the place, half-looking, half-waiting for him. I was still shaking from the scare, and my mind was reeling. I didn't know if he'd already been caught, if I should drive off, stay there and wait, ditch everything and run...
A couple of minutes passed before Ace's broad outline finally emerged from the darkness, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Where the hell have you been?" I asked him.
"Me? What the fuck happened with you?" he whisper-screamed at me. "How'd you end up in the store?"
"Can we just get out of here?" I smartly got into the car to avoid admitting what I'd done.
Ace got in just as smartly, and we hit the road, heading in the direction of his place. I kept turning to look behind us, half-expecting to see whirling red sirens hot on our tail. But the streets were just as quiet and dull as they were before our escapade.
After a little while, as flaming tempers were reduced to a simmer, Ace asked me, "You tried to score a bottle of whiskey, didn't you?"
"No," I replied, and then I reached under my seat and pulled out the brew. "Actually... I got two."
I dumped them on the bench seat between us, and Ace just looked at me and gave me a grin which turned to laughter. "Shit, so maybe Grandma isn't such a stiff after all, huh?"
"Can you stop calling me that? And anyway... I feel horrible about it. I can't believe I even thought of it. Maybe it's because I'm still a bit drunk. I don't know. There's no excuse."
"Old habits die hard."
"There's a difference between taking things to survive and stealing. I've never stolen anything in my life."
"The old bastard won't miss it."
"I don't know what came over me." I sighed and looked down at the bottles laying on the seat. "I think I should tip them out."
"What? No you're fucking NOT."
"Well, I can't drink them. I feel too guilty."
"I'll drink them. Hell, I earned them."
"How exactly did you earn them? I'm the one who went through hell."
"And I'm the one who saved your ass from ending up in the cells."
I looked over at him and gasped. "That was you with the horn..."
"After I loaded the car and you still weren't back, I went to check on you and saw the lights turn on in the store. So, I ran around the front and saw the old codger's son in the there doing his own late-night shopping."
"That was his son?"
"Yeah. And I figured the only place you could be was behind the counter. You were, right?"
"Yes. Yes, I was."
"Well, I had to get him outta there, so I broke into his car and got to his horn. You were fucking lucky, Cass. He was real close to going around the counter to grab something, I'm sure of it."
"Oh my... I'm so sorry," I said, rubbing my tired eyes in utter embarrassment. "And... thanks."
Ace placed a reassuring hand on my knee. "Look, you did good. Sure, you got greedy and you fucked up a little bit, but we got what we came for. But next time you wanna pull a stunt like that, you tell me first – you got it?"
I would have replied by saying that there would never be a next time, but I was stunned to silence. His hand felt so good it scared me.
——
After changing my clothes again and after re-swapping the cars, we arrived back at mine at about 11.30. The place was still active, mainly with the people who'd turned up later. Eyeball and the rest of the gang were all still there, lazily dozing on the sofas and armchairs in the living room. Eyeball and Vince both looked relieved to see that we hadn't ended up in a cell for the night while the other four gave us sly grins like they had the completely wrong idea about what we had been up to.
"Billy, Charlie. Beer," Ace said, flicking his fingers at the door behind him. The two immediately did what they were told, and Ace took the armchair that Billy had just vacated. We had brought one box in with us though, and Ace tore it open for the guys who ravaged it like thirsty animals after a harsh summer drought.
I sat in the only free spot which was on the edge of Ace's armchair and turned down the offer of a can. Billy and Charlie walked back inside carrying two boxes each and, to my surprise and horror, a familiar face walked in straight after them. It was the liquor store owner's son.
My stomach sank like I'd just swallowed ten pounds of lead. I turned my head away from him in fear that he might recognize me, but then I realized that that was impossible since he never saw me.
I poked Ace in the arm and discretely pointed at the guy as he walked straight through the house, past us all, and out the back door to the porch. He was carrying a bottle of Old Crow in one hand and a bottle of Wild Turkey in the other. Thanks to Ace, he never did get to the good stuff. Ace and I both restrained a laugh as he met up with his buddies outside and started moaning that some asshole had tried to steal his car when he'd been filching the piss from his old man's bottle store.
"If I wanted it, you'd be walkin' home," Ace said lowly, provoking curious frowns and cocked eyebrows from the guys.
As Billy and Charlie brought more boxes in, I snuck a few into my room. I was still fearful that the guy might later connect the big pile in my kitchen with the big hole we'd left in his old man's store. I shut myself in there and lay on the bed, seeing nothing else to do except sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, they sprung back open again. I didn't feel drunk or tired anymore; I felt wide awake and alert, and my entire body was tingling, right down to my fingertips.