The ride to the bank was quiet. No one spoke a word, but Squirley could feel Devin’s fear. The baby-faced twenty-one-year old clung to the leather passenger handle in his own car, his knees turned awkwardly towards the door in case of Ryan possibly turning on him. Ryan, however, was much at ease and continued to smoke the slowly burning joint as he drove. Every thirty seconds or so he might take a vast drag from the thickly rolled joint he’d prepared late last night with Toddy, hold it in for as long as he could muster, then let the syrupy smoke glide like rolling hills out of his nostrils. He prided himself on his mastery of inhalation, and exaggerated his skills for Devin’s benefit. But Devin was more worried about what may or may not happen to him after he gave Ryan the money, than how well he could suck up some pot.
The little Nissan rolled into the bank parking lot and Squirley parked the car in the back row. A security guard sitting on a stool next to the thick glass doors of the bank removed his head from behind a copy of the daily newspaper, seemed to sniff for suspicion, squinted his eyes, and resumed his focus on the paper.
“Go get my money,” Squirley commanded.
Devin was immediately out of the car and walking spritely towards the officer. He had slammed that door a little too hard on his way out, thought Squirley. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. One more slip-up like that at Devin might get his ass beaten to a pulp. Squirley watched him as he opened the glass doors and looked back towards the Nissan. His eyes smoldered and twitched, his blonde hair rustled a little in the wind, and his perfect skin seemed altogether tainted. Next to the doors, the security guard was unaware of the events occurring; a blessing to Squirley.
About four minutes later, Devin was back in the Nissan, squirming. He dreaded the call from his father: “A hundred and thirty dollars? For what? I am damned sure you need to learn the value of a dollar, son! Your monthly allowance is hereby cancelled for next month! Maybe next time you might learn… I thought you had a job? Maybe I shouldn’t give you any money…”
The tires screeched and Squirley got out of the car without a word. He threw the keys at Devin’s face and proceeded to turn his back and walk away. Devin stood there in complete dismay while he watched Squirley walk away with his father’s money. He was sweating and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. Squirley had parked a good thirty- minute walk from his next class, which started in about five minutes.
“Damnit,” Devin said to himself as he checked his watch and turned his back on the car and an ever-diminishing image of Ryan as he faded into the heat ripples emanating from against the asphalt.
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