"So, I thought you might like to go on a little field trip," Souther continued.

Souther's odd suggestion piqued Aaron's interest and he looked at him. "What do you mean, a field trip?"

"I have a problem, you see," Souther explained. "It takes at least three men to pull a bank job, and well, I'm a bit short handed at the moment."

Aaron paused. "I saw two men with you last night. Counting you, that's three."

"Observant," Souther said. "However, I have other business to attend to today and won't be available." He looked at his watch. "It's eight o'clock. You'll leave here in an hour."

"Why would I want to help you rob a bank?" Aaron said stupidly a he had forgotten for a moment the dire situation he was in.

Souther leaned forward and grabbed him by the jaw with a grip that might have torn off his face. "Listen, punk," he said, eyes flat. "If you think I don't know where your mother is ... think again. I'm not asking you to help me, you little s.h.i.t ... I'm telling you, okay? So shut-the-h.e.l.l-up and cooperate." He released Aaron's chin with a jerk, then turned and started up the stairs. "And if I were you," he added over his shoulder, "I wouldn't f.u.c.k it up."

Chapter 26.

Pink Polka Dots At 8:45 a.m., Needles and Beeks readied some equipment in the cannery's main warehouse. Aaron looked on from a chair in the corner, his hands taped behind his back. He was still reeling from Souther's pep talk.

Beeks called to him. "Hey, boy. You an artist?"

"Huh?" Aaron said, surprised.

"I'm in need of an artist. You an artist or ain't you?"

"Uh, not really," Aaron said modestly, having no idea why Beeks would ask him that question. "I've done some art in school I guess ... does that count?"

"Get your puny artist-a.s.s over here."

"He's taped to the chair, dumba.s.s," Needles said.

"s.h.i.t ... you think I don't know that?" Beeks said, trying to hide his embarra.s.sment. He walked over and with a flash of his knife cut Aaron's restraints then grabbed him by the shoulder with one of his big hands. "I don't have to worry *bout you doin' nothin' stupid," he said, "do I, boy?"

"No, sir," Aaron replied, wincing under Beeks's powerful grip. He recalled how terrifyingly unreal it had felt the moment Beeks's big hand took him down to the asphalt in the alley.

Beeks had set up a makeshift workbench and stocked it with art supplies. "You think you can make me some bad-a.s.s masks outa all this s.h.i.t?" he asked. "I'm gettin' real f.u.c.kin' tired of those d.a.m.n panty-hose."

Aaron paused at an image of Beeks's face smashed into a nylon stocking then blinked it away. "Uh, yeah," he replied. "I think I can handle it."

The project had caught his imagination. He took a quick inventory of the tools and supplies Beeks had laid out for him: four Styrofoam heads, four white ski masks, four colorful cans of spray paint.

"No amateur bulls.h.i.t c.r.a.p," Beeks insisted. "I want *em bad-a.s.s. You got it, boy? Bad f.u.c.kin' a.s.s."

"No problem," Aaron said, growing more nervous now that Beeks had raised the artistic bar so high.

He stood at the workbench, rubbing the blood back into his wrists, running ideas around in his head. He thought of clown faces, but that had been done to death; horror themed masks didn't seem right to him either. He settled on a simple design he thought Beeks would like then set to work.

He stretched one of the ski masks over the first form, gave the can of electric-blue a vigorous shake, and painted a row of simple vertical stripes onto the white knit fabric head. He followed with shocking-pink polka-dots on head two, neon-green horizontal stripes on head three, and jet-black circles on head four. Then he stepped back to admire his work.

Beeks came over and tested the paint on the black mask with his finger; then he pulled it off its form. He stretched it over his glossy head and checked himself out in a mirror. One of the black circles went around the eye, like a pit bull. He smiled.

"Not bad, boy," he said, adjusting the fit, his teeth gleaming through the mouth hole. "Not too d.a.m.n bad."

Aaron grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he received a compliment from anyone other than his mother, and maybe w.i.l.l.y.

Needles laughed at the sight of his friend. "Nice, Beeks ... really nice."

"You can kiss my big, black a.s.s," Beeks said, still admiring himself in the mirror. "I like it fine, motherf.u.c.ker. I like it just fine."

Needles selected the green horizontal stripes then tossed the pink polka-dots to Aaron.

Chapter 27.

Aaron Goes to Work It was 9 a.m. when Beeks loaded the last of the equipment into the white van. Needles had briefed Aaron on procedure.

"You think you got it?" Needles asked.

Aaron's heart was racing in antic.i.p.ation, but he had no clue what they were actually heading out to do. But it was an adventure, and he loved adventure a its mystery, its excitement, its remoteness from everyday life. "I think so," he replied, doubtfully.

"Okay," Needles said. "Let's get it done."

Needles took the driver's seat, and Beeks, still masked, rode shotgun. They pulled out and waited in the street while Aaron rolled the big door closed. He jumped into the back of the van, and when Needles. .h.i.t the gas they were half way down the block before Aaron managed to get the van's side door shut.

While Needles negotiated traffic, Beeks tapped out a beat on the dashboard. He turned to Aaron and extended his hand.

"They call me Beeks," he said. "This here's Needles."

Aaron shook their hands, making sure to use a firm grip this time. "I'm Aaron," he said, grinning from ear to ear like a naive new-hire who just signed on as one of the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang.

Beeks tossed him a walkie-talkie. "Here," he said, "you're gonna need that."

Aaron turned the radio over in his hand and recalled how he and w.i.l.l.y used to love to play with walkie-talkies. They would spend hours roaming the city, chatting to each other about who knows what a until w.i.l.l.y lost his, that is.

Needles parked the white van in front of Western Federal Bank and turned to Aaron. "Do you remember what I told you?"

Aaron went over his short list of duties list in his mind. "Yes sir," he said.

"Okay, take your position."

Aaron climbed into the driver's seat, and he and Needles pulled on their masks. Beeks pondered Souther's decision to send a young boy with them on a job.

"You think you can handle this, boy?" he asked.

Aaron peered out from behind his polka-dots. "I don't know. I'm pretty scared."

Beeks laughed. "You should be, boy. I'd be too if I was you."

"Check your radios," Needles said, and they did. "Okay ... let's move out."

Needles and Beeks shouldered their gear and entered the bank through the front entrance. Aaron stayed behind, clutching his walkie-talkie, watching the street from his seat in the van.

After ten minutes, Aaron grew restless. He checked the mirrors again and his heart jumped into his throat. A police cruiser was heading his way, and fast, lights blazing.

"Oh, c.r.a.p!" he said, fumbling for the TALK b.u.t.ton on his radio. He pictured all of them being cuffed with zip ties and hauled off to jail. But the cruiser simply blew past him and turned left, away from the bank. Aaron took in a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and exhaled slowly.

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! The bank's alarm had gone off. Aaron sat bolt upright and promptly dropped his walkie-talkie. "d.a.m.n it!" he said as he groped between the seats. He retrieved his radio and looked up just in time to see the thugs burst out of the bank dragging loaded duffel bags. He started the van then jumped in back and rolled the side door open. The thugs tossed the loot inside and jumped into the front seats.

Needles smoked the tires, and the gang made their getaway.

Beeks turned to Aaron, breathing hard. "Tell me this ain't fun, boy!" he said, flashing a huge white smile.

Aaron was totally pumped. He fist b.u.mped Beeks and grinned ear to ear.

Riding high on the successful heist, Needles decided to make a day of it. He filled up the van at the nearest gas station, and then he and Beeks took Aaron with them on an afternoon crime spree that would have made Clyde Barrow proud.

City Heights Bank ... robbed.

North Park Savings and Loan ... cleaned out.

Bank of Nations ... fleeced.

Under Needles's skilled leadership, every job ran like clockwork. They finished up the day with a van load of cash and a young teenage boy whose life had, once again, been changed forever.

Chapter 28.

Pay Day It was just after 5 p.m. when the white van rolled into the cannery. Everyone got out, and Beeks began unloading the haul.

Aaron was overflowing with adrenaline; he walked circles to contain himself. "That was incredible!" he said, high-fiving Needles. "What a rush!"

Souther had been waiting for them. He dumped the contents of one of the fat duffel bags onto a table.

Cash ... piles of it.

"Good job, boys," he said. He counted out several stacks of $100s for his thugs, then picked up a bundle of $5 bills and tossed them to Aaron.

Aaron caught the money with both hands and his eyes bugged out. "Whoa," he said. "What's this?" He figured he held $500 in his hands.

"That's your cut," Souther said, as if it were obvious.

"You're kidding," Aaron said. He certainly hadn't expected to get paid today, and $500 was more than his family's food budget for a month.

"You earned it," Souther said. "There's plenty more where that came from if you play your cards right." He stuffed the rest of the cash back into the duffel bag. "Let me know if you want to blow some of it on a wh.o.r.e, okay? I can arrange it."

Needles and Beeks laughed knowingly, but Aaron only gave up a sheepish grin.

Souther could back his statement up, of course, having spent countless nights over the years in the company of hookers, and he proceeded to share some of his t.i.tillating wh.o.r.e stories with the group.

Aaron was riveted, gripped by a raging torrent of hormones, and he lapped up every last syllable. Souther got a charge out of seeing his reactions, and he teased him with ever expanding layers of graphic detail.

Souther concluded his thrilling monologue with an anecdote that had even Needles and Beeks blushing. Then he paused a he had left out one very important detail regarding his knowledge of the business of prost.i.tution. A secret he'd been keeping (even from Needles and Beeks) for nearly ten years, now. But he decided not to mention it a not yet at least.

"I'll bet your mother could use some cash of her own," he said at last, looking for another reaction from Aaron.

The left-field comment confused Aaron and left him feeling queasy, his enthusiasm shriveling. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said.

"Forget about it," Souther said casually. He had gotten what he wanted.

Aaron felt a sudden aversion toward the money. He tossed the bundle of bills on the table like so much rotten meat.

His cell phone lay on the table. Souther picked it up and handed it to him. "Here," he said. "I believe that's yours."

The odd gesture only served to confuse Aaron further. He searched Souther's eyes for a long moment then slipped the phone into his pocket.