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“Ready, babe?” he asks as he slips his hand into his suit jacket. He cuts an intimidating silhouette in the dark, all sharp lines and the glint of wicked teeth as he smiles, but you aren't afraid. This is the man you fell in love with, Spades Slick. He makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
You nod, pulling out the pistol he gave you the first time. Adrenaline starts to flow through your veins and you smile sweetly back at him. Nothing will go wrong. Nothing ever goes wrong when Slick's with you, you tell yourself.
“Let's go.” and you two are moving swiftly around the corner of the bank. He kicks open the door, pulling his own gun from his jacket and pointing it immediately at the only security guard. The man looks like he might shit himself in fear. You rush over and take the officer's gun, just like Slick had taught you. You tuck it into the sash around your waist and move back into place.
“Everyone on the ground! No one moves, no one has to die here today!” He shouts, striding across the lobby and grabbing a clerk by the collar. “You. You're gonna give me all the money. You're going to put it in this bag. You're not gonna call the cops or I'll shoot you in the mouth.”
A shiver runs down your spine as you watch him work, giddy. You bite your lip and try to keep your face serious. It's your job to watch the rest of the hostages to make sure no one does anything. In your opinion it's the most important part. You step on a woman's hand as she tries to discreetly grab her phone, shaking your head.
“Son of a bitch!” you hear from the back, Slick's voice.
You just catch yourself from calling out his name. You're not supposed to do that during a job. Never. “Is everything alright?!” you yell, eyes wide.
He jogs out of the back, bag empty and gun shoved back in his coat. “We gotta go, sweets, right now-” he says. Slick grabs your hand and pulls you along behind him, out the front door you'd just entered. “That son of a bitch pressed a panic button-”
“You didn't... shoot him, did you?” your voice is suddenly small as you both dash for the car.
“No- no, Paint, no I didn't... Not while you're here.” he says quickly, but his answer leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth. He would have. If he'd been robbing this bank with Droog or Boxcars or Deuce, there would've been a body count. You're sure of it. You hop into the passenger seat, clutching your gun tightly.
You can hear the sirens closing in as he struggles to get the key in the ignition. He can stab a man without flinching but he shakes when the cops are on his ass. Or maybe it's just that you're in the car with him.
You drop your gun into your lap. Spades Slick loves you too. You reach out and softly touch his arm. His hands steady, key clicking into place and engine roaring to life.