Dak pulled up in a red Subaru, the door handle on the driver’s side missing. There was a purse on the passenger seat and Ray grabbed it and dumped the contents onto the sidewalk. There were twenty baht inside and he kept ten for himself and gave five to Dak and Eric.
Eric sat in the backseat, staring out the windows at the rainbow of lights from the restaurants and bars that were just getting into full swing for the night. The air stunk of exhaust and even at night he could see the black clouds of pollution hanging over the city like pus over a wound.
“Do you have a gun?” Ray said, not turning around as the car pulled onto a highway.
“No,” Eric said.
Ray pulled one out from a holster on his leg and handed it behind him. Eric hesitated, and then took it. It was greasy in his palm and heavy, bits of dried black residue falling out of it. “You sure this works?” Eric asked. “It’ll work.” “What about you two?”
“Don’t worry about us. You just keep an eye out. Me and Dak’ll grab the money. If anyone makes a move on us you shoot.” He looked back, his eyes cold. “You ever shot anyone before?”
Eric glanced up at him, and then back down at the gun. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he said, turning back around and throwing his cigarette butt out the window.
The bank was a small brick and glass building in between a restaurant and a mechanic’s shop. They pulled the car in front and looked in through the large windows. There were three tellers; two women and a young boy. A security guard sat at a desk, reading a magazine and sipping cola. “You get the guard,” Ray said to Eric, “we’ll handle the tellers.” He looked to Dak and then back to Eric. “Ready?” Dak nodded and pulled a sawed-off shotgun out from underneath the seat. Ray reached into his waistband and came out with a. 45. “Let’s go,” Ray said.
They left the car engine running and the doors open while they rushed into the bank, Ray leading the way with Dak behind him and Eric in the rear. Eric ran to the guard as the tellers started screaming and Dak began yelling instructions in his gruff voice.
Eric pointed the gun at the guard’s head and the guard raised both his hands. He started trembling and speaking in Thai. Eric couldn’t understand him, but knew he was begging from the sorrowful tone of his voice.
“Don’t worry,” Eric said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Eric looked over and saw Dak forcing a teller to stuff money into a plastic bag and Ray had his gun to the back of the head of the young boy and was yelling something at him. The entire space seemed to be filled with nothing but screaming, bouncing off the walls and floors, heavy in the air like a weight.
The guard said something and went to stand.
“Don’t move!” Eric shouted. The guard held his hands higher and started mumbling, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Sit down! Sit the fuck down!” He grabbed the guard by the shoulder and forced him back down into his chair.
“Let’s go!” Ray shouted, bolting for the door.
Dak struck the male teller in the face with his elbow, knocking him cold, and ran out. Eric reached for the guard’s gun, ripped it out of its holster, and followed them out.
They dove into the car and the tires screeched as Dak tore away from the curb and onto the busy street. He turned a corner on a red light and started driving on the opposite side of the road into oncoming traffic, the cars honking and swerving to avoid him. Eric held tightly to the seat, his knuckles turning white. But Ray was hollering with excitement and banging his fist against the roof of the car in celebration.
They heard sirens but were far enough away that it didn’t matter and Ray started laughing uncontrollably. Even stoic Dak cracked a smile and chuckled. Nothing in what they’d done struck Eric as funny.
They eventually merged with traffic, disappearing into the crowds. They drove for about an hour before stopping at an upscale hotel on the west side near the river. The lobby was all Persian rugs and marble busts. There was a huge abstract painting on the wall, red and black paint spattered randomly across a canvas. It appealed to Eric. Ray paid cash and flirted with the desk staff and they got a room on the fifteenth floor with a balcony overlooking the churning water.
They ordered hamburgers and fries from room service, Dak ordering Thai pasta with spices so hot they made Eric’s eyes water even though he was sitting across from him. They finished their meal and started on beer and champagne as they sat around the dining table and counted the money.
“How much?” Eric said.
“Works out to about sixty thousand dollars,” Ray said, impressed. “So, that’s like what, twenty grand each?”
They divided up the money to the last and then proceeded to get drunk. They turned on music and the television and Ray called an escort service and had three hookers sent over. They were younger girls, in their early twenties, and Ray had them strip as the three men sat on the couch and watched. Ray, unable to control himself, tore at his clothes and jumped on the girls, slobbering kisses over them. Eric didn’t move, he just watched and drank, the alcohol dulling his senses and repressing his libido. Dak rose and walked out on the balcony to smoke.
“He’s a fag,” Ray said, caressing one of the girls as she kissed another. “I wouldn’t call him one to his face though. I’ve seen him put people in the hospital for that.”
Eric reached into Ray’s jacket and pulled out a small bag of H. One of the girls, the youngest one with alabaster skin and a blond wig, grabbed his leg and scurried next to him. She placed her mouth over his pants and bit down gently, tugging slightly to arouse him. He pushed her away softly and went into the bathroom.
There was no syringe so he snorted the H. His nose tingled and bled a little, but he felt fine.
CHAPTER
23
The room was a disaster when Eric woke up; bottles all over the floor and the only table cluttered with plates that had crusted food caked to them. His head throbbed and his nose was itchy and dry. The room smelled like vomit and sex. It sickened him as he rose and looked for Ray’s jacket.
Ray was passed out in the bedroom. Eric found his jacket next to the dresser and searched it but didn’t find anything but half a vile of coke. He walked out onto the balcony, the air hot from the noonday sun, and snorted it there as he watched the glistening waters of the river below. It made a whooshing sound, like ocean waves softly breaking on a beach. He heard someone stumble and looked back to see Ray walk out and sit on a balcony chair next to him.
Ray lit a cigarette and put his feet up on the metal railing of the balcony. A breeze was blowing and the salty air felt cool against his skin. “So where you from?” “Miami,” Eric said, finishing a line and handing the remaining coke back to Ray. “I’m from LA.” He snorted a small mound of coke from the back of his hand. “You like Miami?” “It’s all right.” “Why’d you leave?” “Trouble.”
Ray nodded, flicking ashes onto the bare stone of the balcony. “Me too. I was in college; I was gonna be a business major like my dad.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. I only went a couple semesters though. Moved out here instead of finishing.” Eric leaned back in his chair and put his feet up as well, the railing warm against his soles. “I fucking hate it here.” “It’s not so bad. I been to worse places.” “Like where?”
“I stayed in Mexico for a couple months. Over here, the criminals are the criminals, you know? We’re the fucking criminals and the cops are the cops. In Mexico, the fucking government’s the criminals. They’ll fuck you up for nothin’. There was this ditch by this guy’s house I was stayin’ at. This rotten smell always came from it, like burning garbage or some shit. I went and looked at it one day and it was a bunch of dead bodies. Kids, women… the guy I was stayin’ with told me that’s where the cops dump bodies of people. Some of ‘em are hits, but some of ‘em are just for fun. Like girls they rape and kill, shit like that. Crazy shit.” “Jesus,” Eric said, itching at his arms. “Yeah.” They stayed silent and then Eric said, “So what now?”