Chapter 3
Wrong
Kaden
You know when you get out of bed and you have the persistent and unsettling feeling that everything is wrong? That you should go back to bed and write the day off? Yeah, that’s how I feel the day before Thanksgiving, the day of our last job. I’m not a superstitious man, I like to take pride in my rational approach to most things in life but I can’t shake the uneasiness that permeates everything around me from the minute I cut myself while shaving, to the discovery that someone used all the hot water … again.
And I bet my fucking head on River.
I feel on edge when I step into the kitchen and spot River at the breakfast bar eating Lucky Charms and looking completely … normal.
What the fuck?
He isn’t hungover or high, his eyes aren’t blood shot and his dirty blond hair is neatly tied into a bun on the top of his head. He even shaved and he isn’t wearing that hideous pin striped suit that he insisted on wearing on the last three jobs and that makes him look like a deranged mix between The Joker and a 20s gangster like Clyde from Bonnie and Clyde or Al Capone.
No … today River looks almost presentable, as if he was headed into a job interview at a tech company? rather than into a bank robbery. He’s wearing a purple shirt and I frown realizing what looks off about him. He looks like he’s ready to go out for the night. Like he’s going to meet up with some chick that he’ll no doubt avoid after he hooks up with her.
“Morning.” He grins and I narrow my eyes, immediately suspicious that he’s planning something stupid, like wearing the fucking Iron Man mask.
“Morning. You look … Good?”
River laughs, head thrown back and a glint in his eyes. “Why thank you, motherfucker! Don’t go get any stupid ideas, I dressed ready for the party tonight, just in case the job takes longer. I haven’t got laid in a while and tonight I’m gonna nail at least one cheerleader, mark my words. So I’m not looking this hot for your benefit, a’right?”
I chuckle at his joke, shaking my head. I normally don’t partake in coke or pot or whatever pills River uses recreationally but a few months ago, after a particularly stressful week, we all accepted his offer to let off steam. I didn’t enjoy that out of control feeling, I’m all about planning and rationality and drugs take that away from me.We did have these crazy conversations about who we’d fuck among the four of us if the apocalypse happened and killed off all the women on the planet.
And I said I’d fuck River because I’d have his long hair to pull on, or some shit like that. In reality, none of us swings that way but it was funny to see Blaine and Royce get offended for being passed over and River’s half elation to be chosen and half fear that I might really mean it.
“Right.” I nod, still searching for signs that he isn’t pulling himself together but that he’s his usual crazy mess.And find none. He looks fucking normal, which for River isn’t normal at all, and that increases my uneasy feeling tenfold.
“Morning, douches. You two are looking as fresh as two goddam roses this morning!” Royce gives me a questioning look, his gaze fixed on River: he noticed too how he doesn’t look like himself.
“Are you all right, Rivs? You look … good.”
River drops the spoon into his cereal bowl with a loud clang. “Can I know what’s up your ass this morning, the both of you? I got the message the other night, ok? The Lambo has gone back, I’m leaving the Iron Man mask here, even though I begrudge not being allowed to look cool, and I’m gonna go with Blaine on Monday to deposit some of that money that’s in my room. I’m doing as told, now get off my ass, will you?”
I almost feel better because of his outburst but Royce asks him if he parked the cars for our switch. We get away in the Range Rover and switch to our regular cars at a midway point. It’s a stretch of land the brothers own, a run down winery that they plan to restore or something and the overgrown vines and the way the property is built in a secluded spot make it the ideal place to leave the cars and our weapons.
No cop would ever think to look there, this is why we don’t hide there, to avoid losing our last resort hideout, in case the shit hits the proverbial fan.
River nods. “Yeah, everything is how it should be. I marked out our itinerary and drove it twice to make sure I know where I’m going. We’re all set.”
Blaine enters the room still shirtless, his dark hair wet and shiny from the shower. “I’ve got us a reservation at the Beverly Wiltshire for tonight. Two nights in total. I’m afraid all they had was the penthouse suite, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and all the normal suites were booked. Is that a problem, Kaden? I used your secure credit card as usual.”
I nod. We always use a card I managed to get under a fake name, it’s perfect because it’s very hard to trace. I have a friend who’s a hacker and he can also get us fake IDs and passports that look near perfect at little to no notice. And he’ll do it for a steal because I saved his ass in Kabul and he owes me.
So, everything seems ok but that uneasy feeling persists … we normally book two rooms at a luxury hotel to hide in plain sight and this time it’s the penthouse. It draws attention, it’s a deviation from our routine and I fucking hate that.
???
Kaden
I almost snap at River multiple times on the way to the bank: normally he makes me nervous because he drives recklessly, this time he’s freaking me out because he’s calm and he’s stopping at every red light, keeping under the speed limit and humming a song whilst tapping the beat on the steering wheel.
“Can you stop that tapping noise, for fuck’s sake?”
He reacts with an annoying little smile, not his usual smile that doesn’t reach his eyes: why the fuck is he so calm and composed? When he’s high, he’s got that slightly psychotic smile, that I know how to handle. This version of River? It makes my skin prickle in hives.
“Is everything ok, Kades? You look really on edge today.” Blaine’s voice reaches me from the back seat and I shrug even though I know that he can’t see me.