Claudia knew she didn’t have much time. She had no other choice, but she was afraid. This was worse than the first time—the first time had been exhilarating, thrilling. But now she knew what the consequences were, the penalty to be paid.
She nervously rubbed her sweaty palms on her knees and slid deeper into the plastic chair.
It would have to be done quickly—split seconds counted. Minutes were not allowed, if it took minutes she would be caught. That would be the end.
All the customers in the coffee shop started as a worker dropped a handful of silverware behind the counter with a crash. A couple people exclaimed and a woman with gaudy makeup giggled loudly. After a moment people turned their attention back to coffee and conversation.
Claudia tried to calm her beating heart. She was too jumpy. This would never work if she were skittish. Alert, yes. Jumpy, no.
She looked through the clear Plexiglas separating the café from the rest of the mall. Between shoppers and their bags she could see the ice cream store across the hall.
Claudia had been watching it for the past forty minutes. Not many people were buying ice cream this time of day, and the teenage boy tending the store was bored. He kept running two stores down to talk to a boy of about the same age at a candle shop. He was never gone for more than three minutes at a time. But those three minutes would be enough.
Thirty seconds to make sure the kid was safely in the candle store. Seven to walk across the hall—not run. Claudia paused in her figuring; of course, the boy would get in trouble for having left the store.
She looked over at him again. Baseball cap on backwards, he was slouching against a wall and chewing gum while ignoring two ladies musing over the ice cream selection. They soon left without buying anything. She didn’t blame them for leaving, and she didn’t care if he got in trouble. Now he was going down the hall again.
Thirty seconds to figure out how to open the cash register. That wouldn’t be hard because she was used to registers. She silently swore as she thought about her last job. The lack of it was why she was here. She had been fired because another employee took fifty dollars out of her register, and she was blamed because of her police record. Guilty, not proven innocent. Claudia hadn’t even tried. The manager hadn’t pressed charges, he’d simply told her to leave. Right then. She’d left.
That was three weeks ago. Now she needed money. Badly. No one would hire someone who had robbed a convenience store, even if years had passed. The fast food joint had been her last chance for a good start. Now all the applications wanted to know why she’d left her last job. “Personal conflict with manager” was the best she was able to come up with. Apparently to her potential employers that meant she had “trouble with authority,” and that she was not worth the trouble to them.
Claudia didn’t figure the ice cream register would have much money—after all, the reason she chose it was because no one was buying anything, and thus no one to see what she did. Once she was behind the counter passers-by would think she worked there. And she’d be gone before anyone knew the difference. Still, no sales, no money. But even a hundred would help.
A woman sitting at the table behind Claudia stood and swung her purse onto her shoulder, hitting Claudia in the back of her head with it. The woman didn’t notice and walked out of the store, chatting on her cell phone. Claudia glowered at her, then moved her gaze to the ice cream store again.
She tensed. One lone customer was paying for his cone, licking his fingers, waiting for the boy to slowly count out change. She scanned the area quickly—no one else was looking interested in the store. Now was her chance.
She had to move fast. The boy would probably go visit his friend as soon as this customer left. Claudia grabbed her shoulder bag off the floor and the coffee cup from the table. Walking quickly to the front of the store she pushed the Styrofoam cup into the trash can, still watching the store across the hall.
There he went—sauntering down to the candle store, not once glancing back. Claudia breathed deeply. Now or never.
Moving at a steady pace, she walked across the hall, watching the boy disappear behind shelves of candles.
She kept walking, passed the waist-high swinging door, back behind the counter. She kept breathing.
Six quick steps and she was at the register. Dropping her purse on the floor she bent over the register, blocking out all sounds and scrutinizing the keypad. Hovering for a moment, her finger finally punched ‘No Sale.’ The register squealed. Panic surged through Claudia for a moment until she found the ‘clear’ button. It worked. The noise stopped. Fifteen seconds gone.
Slowly, concentrating, she keyed in ‘small cone—subtotal’ and the readout flashed ‘1.58.’ Nervously she entered ‘2.00—cash.’ The drawer sprang open, revealing neat stacks of bills. She exhaled.
Claudia reached for the twenties. In the bag. Tens…
“Excuse me!”
Claudia jumped, heart clenched into a tight knot. Her knuckles scraped on the inside of the drawer. Blood pounding, she looked up.
“How much is a milkshake?” asked the short, balding customer, standing placidly on the other side of the counter.
“I don’t know.” She could hardly hear the words through the roaring in her ears.
“You don’t know?” The man looked at her, surprised.
“I don’t work here.”
She glanced towards the candle store.
“Oh.” The man turned to leave, but stopped. “Then what are you doing back there?”
Claudia stared at him, face flushing. “Cash pickup.” The words stuck in her throat and came out hoarsely.
He regarded her suspiciously for a moment, then nodded and started walking down the hallway. Claudia spotted a security guard a ways down the hallway and knew the man was heading that way. She grabbed up the rest of the tens, fives and ones, stuffed them into the bag and slammed the drawer.
Almost running, trying not to, she got out from behind the counter and started down the hallway, in the opposite direction of the guard. A few feet of the hallway passed. She collided into someone, knocking the air out of her chest. She stumbled backwards.
“Watch it!” snapped the person. It was the ice cream employee, returning from the candle shop.
Claudia flew toward the doors to the outside. She was there—pushed open the glass door—was free. Taking deep gasps of fresh air she glanced back inside. No one was chasing her.
Her heart was still pounding but she started slowly down the sidewalk.
Then her stomach twisted as she realized.
She wasn’t carrying the bag. She’d dropped the bag. When she ran into the boy. She didn’t have the money.
Claudia doubled over and sank to the concrete. She didn’t have the bag. All that for…she couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t have the bag. She didn’t…have…the bag.