Saturday, 5 May 2012

Sugar by Jake Nantz

First time I saw her, she was steppin’ on my action. I was okay with it though, ‘cause she was hot. Strolled through the door in spikes and a skirt, little grey sweatshirt hanging off a shoulder. Nothing but a bikini top under it.

Oh yeah, and holding the heater.

Fucking gun was as big as she was. Walks in, shoots the guy behind the counter, points it at me. I tried to play it cool, wasn’t the first time I stared down a barrel, but my hard-on didn’t help things. Fuck, she was hot. Popping her chewing gum, too. That shit gets me every time.

“You s’posed to put your hands up and scream, honey.”

“Nah, not my style.” That’s right. Straight cool, hands at my side.

She wagged the gun at me. “Gimme whatever you got, I might let you live.” Snap. Pop.

“Sugar, you’re either gonna shoot me or not. You want what I got…” —that’s right, dig that innuendo— “…then you can come over here and take it whether I’m breathin’ or not.” Took a breath, studied her. “So, do you want it?”

She smiled. A little. “Got that right.” Pop. Snap. “Whas’ your name, tough guy?”

Hell yeah. “Keesey. Mike Keesey,” I lied. “You?”

A glance at my crotch. “Don’t look like you much care.” Another smile. Bigger. Time to take a shot of my own.

“Okay Sugar, I’ll call you whatever you want. But right now I need to know what you’re gonna do, ‘cause I just got out a couple months back and I don’t feel like getting caught with you just ‘cause you’re gonna fuckin’ stand there.”

She took her damn time deciding. Finally lowered that big Smith and Wesson, gave me a sly grin. Snap. Pop. “What, you wanna get in on this?”

I lifted my jacket in back, pulled my Glock. Grinned myself. “Planning to rob this place anyway, Sugar.”
Startled her when I showed my piece, but she recovered well. Snap. Smile and wink. Pop. “You got a car here?”

I shrugged, looked at the pool of blood creeping around the side of the counter. “No, but I bet he does.”

Grin. Pop.

She got his keys, I got the register and pulled the surveillance tape. She stopped me on the way out the back, grabbed a box of jimmies and winked again. Fuck yeah.

The clerk’s car was a shitty little blue Ford Escort. Pretty sure it was older than Sugar. I smeared some mud on the plate and we were off.

We made three stops that first night. Once to switch cars, twice to switch license plates with some other shitty cars. By the time we got to a motel to crash, I could barely zip my jeans back up for all the gum. Still gives me wood just thinkin’ about it.

The drawer only had a couple hundred bills in it, so we picked a cheap spot. Low rent.

“So, Sugar. You got any big master plan you wanna let me in on? Or we just gonna small time it for a while?”

A pout. Her lower lip stuck out, a little of me still glistening on it. “Who said I gotta tell you anything? You got a problem with how it’s gone so far?”

“Nope. Just thought I’d get to be more than a dildo with a gun.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep talking like that, the dildo’s all I’ll take with me.”

I held my hands up. “Okay Sugar. Okay. I just thought some of my expertise might help here, that’s all.”

Her lips curled up. A smile, but it was ugly and mean. “You were in the joint, right? Sounds like your expertise ain’t so expert.”

Bitch. I thought about shooting her, but then she popped that gum again. I gotta stop thinking with my dick.

She rolled over and kissed me hard enough to draw blood. “Relax, Keesey. Tomorrow we hit a mom-and-pop on route 74 I know of. The safe is theirs, so they have to know the combo. I’ll even let you do the shooting this time, once we got the money.” She winked, her eyes a deep pool of mischief.

Satisfied I was gonna get my gun off, I pulled her to me and yanked up her skirt. Nothing underneath 'cept them heels. Fuck yeah.

****

Next day we paid cash for the room, walked across to the shitty strip mall. I hotwired a gray Honda while she switched the plates with another gray Honda. There’s an assload of ‘em on the roads these days, so we thought it’d be easier to hide in one. We agreed to find another gray one and switch plates again before the job. She said there wouldn’t be enough time after, and I figured she was probably right.

Two hours and a plate-switch later, she pulled into the mom-and-pop gas station. I didn’t see anyone but the cashier inside, a little old man. Good. I pulled my Glock, put it in my belt under my shirt.

“Ready, Sugar?”

“You go in first, take the clerk in the back where the safe is. I’ll come in after and man the front. That way if someone comes in, it looks legit.”

I thought that was pretty smart. Turns out it was, but not like I figured.

I went in. The old geezer bent over a newspaper, barely looked up when the door chimed. He didn’t even flinch when I shoved my piece in his face. Just kinda sighed. Guess he was used to it.

“Where’s the safe?”

His shoulder slumped. “In the back.”

“C’mon Geezer.” I wagged the gun toward the back and he led the way. He walked like his whole body hung from a meat hook. I was doing him a favor and putting him out of his misery, poor bastard.

We walked past the shitters on the way to the little office. Man, roadside gas stations have the nastiest bathrooms on earth, and this one was no different. The smell assaulted me. Geezer didn’t seem to notice. The offending odor was probably his anyway.

‘Bout the time we got to the office, I heard the door chime. Sugar was coming in to cover the front.

The office wasn’t much bigger than a closet. A desk with more paper and shit than a redwood forest dominated the room. Behind it was the safe.

“Open it, and do it fast.”

Geezer nodded and bent down, worked the combo dial. When he opened it, I saw he had a little .380 in there waiting for me. You just can’t trust these clerks at all, man. I called Sugar in there, and she took the loot from the safe out to the car. I kept the .380 and the old man with me.

When I heard the chime twice, I knew she was back in the building. Asked Geezer if he had any last requests. He said a prayer, then nodded. Thought that was pretty nice of me, tell ya the truth, to let him pray and shit. Then, I shot him in the back of the head.

That’s when shit went wrong. Real wrong.

I heard a siren out front, and a scream. Sugar was screaming, and I knew we were caught. Well, I was right about the caught, just not the ‘we.’

I left the money and bolted out the back, right into the arms of a State Trooper. I tried to bring my gun up, but he slugged me right in the balls. After the hard riding I had the day before, my Johnson wasn’t up for that. I dropped the Glock and hit the ground grabbin’ my crotch and whimpering. Yeah, I whimpered, you gonna say something about it? Didn’t think so.

Next thing I know, my hands are locked behind me and I’m being pushed back through the store. And there’s Sugar, talking to the cops outside and cryin’ her eyes out.

My fucking money in that gray Honda, and she’s sobbing to some fat trooper. I even caught her smiling at me for a second when that porker turned his head. Snapped her gum, too. Sneaky fucking whore.

So she plays like she just pulled up in her gray Honda right before the smokies did. Bitch tripped the silent alarm when I went in the back, and here comes the heat. She cries for half an hour, they don’t even search her, and I go up for murdering some old coot I didn’t even know.

That’s alright, though. The guy in the next cell has a way to get out of here. And the first thing I plan on doing is finding me some chewing gum.

REWIND<< This story first appeared on the original Pulp Pusher site.