Honeymoon for Three

food. In one of the towns along the route he spotted a grocery store. He pulled into the parking lot and backed his car into a corner stall where he had a view of the entrance.
    He knew grocery stores. He felt comfortable inside them. He sat in his car and watched shoppers go in and out, trying to get up his nerve. He pictured how the interior of the store would look—where the checkout counter would be located, close to the entrance. He knew cash registers. He knew that checkers often placed their large bills underneath the money tray. In order to get all the money, you had to lift the tray.
    This was a mom and pop store, much smaller than the one he had worked at in Lomita. It didn’t have as many customers, and it wouldn’t have as much money in the till. He didn’t need a lot of money—just enough to tide him over until he could get back to work.
    The sun set, and he began to have hunger pangs. All he’d had to eat since breakfast were some snacks. He kept track of who went in and out of the store, and he was certain that there were no customers inside at the moment. This was the time to act. His stomach started churning, and he wondered whether he would throw up. He swallowed to keep the bile down. He would feel a lot better when he had the money and was far away from here.
    Alfred took one bullet and carefully placed it in the chamber of the gun, following the instructions of the pawnshop owner. He had considered leaving the gun empty, but having it loaded gave him more confidence. He wouldn’t feel as if he were bluffing, even though he had no intention of firing the gun.
    He left the car keys in the ignition and the door unlocked. He put up the hood of his jacket and sauntered toward the entrance of the store, his hands in his jacket pockets where he could feel the comforting hardness of the gun. He went inside and was glad that the man near the checkout counter had his back turned to him. He was placing some cans on a shelf.
    The man was older and thinner. Alfred was heavier and should be able to overpower him, if that became necessary. He was confident that it wouldn’t, but it was comforting to be dealing with somebody smaller.
    He wanted to verify that nobody else was in the store. He strolled down one of the few aisles, grabbing a bag of potato chips on the way. He quickly checked the other aisles. The store was empty except for the clerk.
    Taking a deep breath, Alfred walked to the checkout counter and plunked his bag of chips down. The man turned away from the cans and came to the counter. He wore glasses and peered at Alfred through the lenses with a slight squint.
    “This all for you?” he asked.
    Alfred nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
    The man rang it up and said, “That’ll be thirty-nine cents.”
    Alfred still couldn’t say anything. He froze for what seemed an eternity. He felt like an actor who had forgotten his lines. To cover his discomfiture he reached for his wallet.
    “Gonna get some rain tonight.” The man waited patiently for him to produce his money.
    Alfred had been driving through light rain part of the day. He nodded and fumbled with his wallet. He pulled out his last dollar bill and handed it to the man. He felt a sense of relief. Maybe he would just pay for the potato chips and leave. The man probably ran the store with his wife. He had a family. He wasn’t rich. He couldn’t afford to lose his day’s receipts. He was just trying to keep the wolf from the door.
    The man opened the drawer of the cash register. He took out coins for change. Alfred saw the bills stacked neatly by denomination. There was enough money there to last him for a week. He needed that money.
    He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll take it all.”
    “Pardon?” The man turned his head toward him.
    He reached his hand toward Alfred with the coins. Alfred had mumbled, and the man apparently hadn’t understood him—or he had pretended not to understand him. Alfred could still take the coins and get out of there. No harm done. But he was hungry, and it was getting cold outside. He needed to find a place to stay.
    He jerked the gun out of his pocket and said, “Give me all your bills.”
    The man looked at the gun and then at Alfred’s face. His eyes widened, but he didn’t show any other emotion. He carefully scooped the bills out of each of the containers, his hands trembling a little. He placed them together in a single stack and handed them to Alfred.
    That was easy.