Brazen Virtue

when Ed pulled into a parking lot. “Oh no, not the hardware store. Not again.”
    “I need to pick up some hinges.”
    “Sure, that’s what you always say. You’ve been a pain in the ass since you bought that house, Jackson.”
    As they got out of the car, Ed flipped him a quarter. “Go across to the 7-Eleven and get a cup of coffee. I won’t be long.”
    “You got ten minutes. It’s bad enough I have to spend the morning in court having to outmaneuver Torcelli’s P.D., but now I have to put up with Harry Homeowner.”
    “You told me to buy a house.”
    “That’s beside the point. And I can’t get coffee for a quarter.”
    “Show your badge, maybe they’ll give you a discount.”
    Grumbling, Ben jogged across the street. If he had to cool his heels while his partner pored over nuts and bolts, he might as well do it with coffee and a Danish.

    The little convenience store was almost empty. It would be a couple of hours yet before the rush-hour crowd stopped in for a loaf of bread or a Big Gulp for the road. The cashier was reading a paperback but glanced up and smiled as he walked by. Objectively, he decided she had a nice bust.
    In the back of the store by the hot plates and microwave, he poured himself a large coffee, then grabbed the pot of hot water and poured a cup for Ed, who always had a tea bag in his pocket.
    There’d been a time he’d been certain Ed had made a huge mistake in buying that wreck of a house. But the truth was, watching it come together little by little had set him to thinking. Maybe he and Tess should start looking for a house. Nothing with holes in the ceiling or rats in the attic like Ed’s, but a place with a real yard. A place where you could have a grill and barbecue steaks in the summer. A place where you could raise kids, he thought, then told himself to slow down. It must be marriage that made you think about next year as often as you thought about tomorrow.
    Downing coffee as he went, Ben walked to the cashier. He barely had time to swear when he was shoved and the coffee splashed down his shirt.
    “Dammit!” he shouted, immediately going silent and still as he saw the knife trembling in the hand of a kid of about seventeen.
    “The money.” The kid poked the knife at Ben as he gestured to the cashier. “All of it. Now.”
    “Great,” Ben muttered and glanced at the woman behind the counter, who was pale and frozen to the spot. “Listen, kid, they don’t keep diddly in those cash registers.”
    “The money. I said give me the fucking money!” The boy’s voice rose and broke. A thin trail of spittle flew out as he spoke; it was tinted with blood from the lip he’d been biting. He needed a fix and he needed it bad. “You’d better move your ass right now, you stupid bitch, or I’ll carve my initials into your forehead.”

    The woman took another look at the knife and sprang into action. She grabbed the tray out of the drawer and dumped it on the counter. Loose change bounced out and hit the floor.
    “Your wallet,” he said to Ben as he began to stuff bills and silver into his pockets. It was his first robbery. He’d had no idea it could be so easy. But his heart was still jammed into his throat and his armpits were dripping. “Take it out slow and toss it on the counter.”
    “Okay. Take it easy.” He considered reaching inside his jacket for his weapon. The kid was sweating like a pig and had as much terror in his eyes as the woman behind the counter. Instead, Ben reached for his wallet with two fingers. He held it up, watching the kid’s eyes follow it. Then he tossed it an inch short of the counter. The minute the kid looked down, he moved.
    He knocked the knife away easily. The grip was slippery with sweat. It was then that the woman behind the counter started to scream, one keening wail after the next as she continued to stand rooted. And the kid fought like a wounded bear. Ben locked his arms around the kid’s waist from the rear, but even as he planted his feet, they were going over onto a display table. It cracked, going down with them. Ho-Ho’s and Chiclets scattered. The boy screamed and swore, flopping like a fish as he groped for the knife. Ben’s elbow cracked against the frozen-food cabinet hard enough to have stars dancing in his head. Beneath him, the boy was rail thin and soaked now from a nervous bladder. Ben did what seemed easiest: He sat on him.
    “You’re busted, friend.” Pulling out his shield, he stuck it in front