Free The Sin Bin by Tony Black Page A

low,
barely audible mumble.
    I bent at her side. She looked like she
was coming round.
    'Yo ... Marie, honey, you with us?'
    A groan.
    'Guess not.'
    'Mitch ...' she said.
    'Yeah, honey. I'm here.'
    'What happened?'
    'I hit you. I'm real sorry.' I was
aware how pathetic I sounded.
    'You hit me. Why did you hit me, Mitch?'
    'I've got a bucket of adrenaline racing
through me and you flipped out. It was just instinct.'
    'Mitch, you've never hit me before.'
    'Honey, I'm sorry. I'll never do it
again. I promise. Are you okay?'
    'I guess.'
    I propped Marie up on the couch. She
touched her head. I could see a red leaf-shaped stain forming on the skin. The
contusion would be berryblack inside an hour. I felt time ticking away. We
needed to move.
    'Where's Pedro?'
    'I sent him out back?'
    'The money?'
    'Still in the trunk.'
    'Mitch, those cops didn't just come
from nowhere.'
    I hoped she wasn't starting to push my buttons
again; I knew the cops had been fed a line by someone and I'd lost my edge.
    'They were tipped off,' I said.
    'Who?'
    I looked to the door. 'Dunno.'
    I heard Pedro hammering down the window
frames, it set the Schnauzer in the yard off again.
    'Mitch, we've got to get out of here.'
    I looked to the window; the sun
streamed in, painting an oblong block of yellow in the centre of the floor.
    'Mitch ...'
    From where I sat I could see the car,
front fender bashed, back window shot out. I was no wheelman, but I'd lost
them. It wasn't meant to be like this. Simple job. In and out. Just stick to
the rules. But they were waiting — two cops — for a bank job. Shit, these days
a motorcycle courier forgets to take his helmet off and there's choppers
overhead.
    'Mitch, we have to move, now.'
    I turned back to Marie, her face was
torn in misery, her upper lip trembling. If I didn't act soon, she'd need
hosing down again.
    I wiped her brow, said, 'You good to
go?'
    She nodded.
    'Then sit tight, I've one more thing to
do.'
    I stood up, walked through the door. In
the hallway, I heard Pedro. He was whispering, or trying to, into his cell
phone.
    'I didn't know he could drive like
that. How is I to know? You should have chased, chased ... the money's still
here. Out front.'
    I reached round to the .45 tucked in my
waistband and took off the safety. My heart pounded, I felt sweat gather on the
back of my neck. This was my ticket back to the Big House. Even bent cops
refuse to turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. I tasted the Joint's gruel
and grits again, the smell of stale sweat, Bubba's necklock in the showers. I
wanted to apologise to Marie once more.
    Fuck. Why did this shit keep happening
to me?
    As the .45 clicked in his ear Pedro
lowered the phone and turned. He looked at me as if I'd just beamed down from
Venus. His lips drained of blood and turned grey. I wagged the .45 towards the
phone. He moved his thumb to 'end call' and dropped the handset on the floor.
    I gave him a second for words.
    None came.
    My nerves shrieked, I felt the blood
surge in my veins as I raised the gun to his head.
    'Oh sweet Jesus, please, no ...'
pleaded Pedro.
    'He's not gonna save you now.'
    I blindsided him. Put my left through
his eye, opening it up like a welt, the white shot through with red. He fell. I
kicked him in the head. A flap of skin tore clear of his brow. More blood ran
out. Lots this time. It looked like a coathanger abortion. He put both hands
over his head.
    'You made a mistake, Pedro.'
    I put the .45 to his head.
    He crouched, as if in prayer. I swear,
he whimpered. I'd expected more of a put up.
    'What else did you give them?'
    'Nothing ... Nothing... Nothing ...'
    'Horseshit.' I slapped him with the
gun.
    'No, I swear ... They don't know
nothing.'
    'My name?'
    'No. I would never.'
    Somehow, I didn't believe a word of it.
    'You lose, Pedro.'
    'What?'
    'The Game of Life.'
    He screamed like a loose fan belt. The
Schnauzer kicked off outside the door. I hoped it would drown out the sound of
the gun's discharge.
    I left him flat