“I’m sorry I messed up,” Betty said.
“It’s okay, baby,” Izzie said.
“You sure?”
“Positive. Mistakes happen. It’s part of the business.”
Josh glanced at Seymour and saw his younger brother roll his eyes. If Betty kept screwing up, they’d all end up in the hospital, or a graveyard.
“I love you, Izzie,” Betty whispered.
“I love you, too,” Izzie whispered back.
The unmistakable sound of Izzie’s fly being yanked open shattered the silence. Josh shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Betty was like one of those sirens in the ancient Greek stories. Izzie was her slave, and she wasn’t going to let go of him.
An convenience store materialized on the road side. Josh said, “I need some smokes,” and Seymour pulled into the lot and the two brothers went inside. They nosed around the potato chip aisle, killing time while the lovebirds got it on.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Josh asked.
“I sure am,” Seymour replied.
“I make a motion that we lose her.”
“I second the motion.”
“All those in favor, say I.”
“I.”
“Done.”
Five minutes later, Josh and Seymour were back in the car. Izzie had his arm slung over Betty’s shoulder and was breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Seymour started to drive away, then slammed on the brakes. “Damn. I left my wallet on the counter.”
The tires spun on the gravel as Seymour backed up. Josh turned in his seat, and looked Betty in the eye. “Would you do my moronic brother a favor, and get his wallet?”
Betty giggled. It was no secret that she thought Seymour was a putz.
“Sure,” she said.
She hopped out of the car, and went into the convenience store. When Betty was happy, she walked with a little skip. It was the only thing remotely child-like about her.
Josh grabbed her purse off the back seat. Rolling down his window, he flung the purse with all his might, and it hit the convenience store’s front door with a loud
“Hey!” Izzie exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
“We’re leaving,” Josh said.
“What about Betty?”
“She’s not coming.”
“Who said she’s not coming?”
“We took a vote, and you lost.”
Izzie made a strangled sound, then fell silent. For a while they drove in silence. The highway was dark and unforgiving. Road hustling was tough work, and the brothers knew that it was time to change locales. Miami Beach was nice, and the money was always good in Chicago. But Josh wanted to branch out, and from the glove compartment he removed a glossy brochure from Resorts in Atlantic City, and passed it around the car.
Josh and Seymour took turns reading the brochure. The brothers had often fantasized about pulling an Ocean’s Eleven-type caper, and taking down a casino for a huge score. It was every hustler’s dream, yet only a handful had ever tried it. The risks far outweighed the rewards.
“I thought the mob was running Atlantic City,” Izzie said skeptically. “If those guys catch us cheating, they’ll kill us.”
“Screw the mob,” Josh said. “I’ve got this plan that will let us steal five grand a week from Resorts, and the mob will never have a clue. On top of that, we’ll get to stay in one place, and not have to move around. No more crummy motel rooms and shitty food.”
“Five grand a week? That’s huge,” Seymour said.
“You thought this out?” Izzie asked.
Josh tapped his forehead with his finger. “Every last detail.”
“Count me in,” Seymour said.
“Me, too,” Izzie chorused.
An exit sign loomed ahead. They’d been driving around aimlessly for over an hour. Seymour flipped on his indicator. Soon, they were heading south on I-95 toward New Jersey, ready to take on the mob without hearing the details of Josh’s plan, or fully understanding the dangerous risks they were about to assume.
It was another decision the brothers would later regret.
