Third Exercise - Wendy Uzzell

Steady fingers quietly turned the dial on the safe door. He crouched closer listening for the faint click of the lock. His sanded fingertips sensitive to every vibration of the dial as the internal workings shifted and aligned. He couldn’t see anything through the blindfold, but his mind pictured the drop and seating of levers and cogs. As usual, his right knee started to cramp and he shifted more of his weight to his left leg. He ignored bumping his shoulder into the work bench. He steadied himself on the edge of the bench with fingers scrabbling among the debris of dismembered locks. He had this job lined up tonight and she wanted to go to the movies. She had smiled her seductive smile and commented that she wanted to see a movie down at the Royale. Just what he needed, a romantic movie that would get her thinking about them, getting married, having children. She would cuddle up to him, tuck her head into his shoulder and wait for him to say the right thing. He never said the right thing. She would get mad and sit up straight after a bit, pull her shoulder away and he would feel guilty for the rest of the evening. “Damn it,” he muttered while pulling off the blindfold, realizing he had missed the end click of the combination. Stretching, he stood and stepped two paces to the small window. Rain streaked the glass, dark gloomy streets swarmed with dock workers and domestics leaving their jobs and scurrying home. The street lights were further up-town, this end was darker, less safe. Smiling grimly he looked down on them and thought of the poor chumps who worked at such lousy jobs. Like ants in a hill, never going to get a dollar more than it took to live every day. That wasn’t for him; he knew a better way to get ahead. Leaning left, he reached for the cold coffee pot, poured it into a dirty cup and slurped it. He didn’t notice the lack of heat, the ugliness of the place. He didn’t care. The mark he was after should be arriving on the afternoon train. He’d slipped the desk clerk some cash to get information on their arrival. That was not a man to trust, he thought, he could be bribed too easily. Probably cheated his boss too, rented out rooms and didn’t put the money in the till, didn’t have them register. It would cost more money to get the room number, but he would use the bellman. Stop anyone from putting two and two together. Scowling he decided it wasn’t right that she could pull his concentration away so easily. Women were a problem, always making suggestions, wanting to be together, asking where he worked. Just going out together for a couple of hours was enough. Two weeks ago she talked about her parents, how they wanted to meet him. Oh, no they wouldn’t, he’d thought. It had put a scare into him, her wanting to tie him down, asking questions about what he did. He had dropped her off early that night, stayed away a while. In the end, he couldn’t stay away he thought disgustedly. Stood outside the drug store yesterday, waiting for her, like a school boy. Turning back to the safe he crouched, pulled the blindfold back down and flexed his hands. Cramps were painful, but part of the job. Shrugging his shoulders relaxed them; he hummed silently in his thoughts to compose himself. Right hand softly grasping the dial he twisted again and felt the first faint click. Mother had sent a letter telling him she was lonely, since Pa had shot himself. She wanted money from him because he wasn’t married, didn’t have his own wife asking for every dime he had. She looked like an old woman now, her hair was gray and she wore shapeless dresses. When Pa was alive she always dressed up and fixed her hair with color. He even remembered the time she cut it short over at Marlene’s apartment. Pa had made a comment about her trying to look like a flapper and it had hurt her feelings. Her face had gotten tight, lower lip pouting out. Imagine, a grown woman with children acting like a little girl. She wanted him to come home too, like he was a kid. She wanted too damn much. She didn’t even know anything about him but prided herself on “knowing her boys”. It was better that way, let her have her dreams, but he wasn’t going to give her anything. She had five other children, let her want something from them for a change. He wondered what he would do if the mark woke up while he was finessing the safe open. Last time had been so slick he couldn’t believe it. After climbing the fire escape to the hall on the third floor he had used his lock picks to open the door of room 310. Hall lights were burned out that night; it had cost him an extra fifty bucks to get that arranged, so it wasn’t noticeable when he silently opened the door. The two of them had been snoring like a couple of hogs. The shadows showed large lumps in the fancy hotel bed, while he was in the sitting room taking her string of pearls, the diamond brooch and the money clip full of bills. Easy in, easy out, no sweat. Ought to be a law making it harder, he grinned. Wasn’t it nice that old rich ladies like to take their best jewels to show off at these “society functions”? Old people sleep hard, made it clean work for him. Knifelike pain in both knees finally caused him to stop. Trying to stand turned into a clumsy sprawl ending on the bed. Groaning, he straightened his legs and lay still, waiting for ease. Clutching his left fist over his eyes and stretching his right hand he waited, knowing he had to practice more, get in, and get out.