The Hostage Bargain

by Annika Martin

“Then don’t,” I said, reveling in the intensity of being pounded by this thoroughly out-of-control man. “Fuck me, take me. Just…fuck me.”

  He drove into me relentlessly, and then a cry wrenched out of him, wrenched out the feeling from the depths of him. He stilled, cock pumping inside me, then he collapsed on me, panting.

  I held him against me, one hand on his back, one on his hair, held his head to my shoulder.

  I listened to his breathing—fast, like he’d been running. His breathing was the loudest sound in the quiet of our bank robber hotel suite.

  I held him and listened, wondering how he’d become this guy. Who he’d lost, what he’d lost. A criminal, he called himself, with hate and anger. But he’d once been a doctor.

  “Fuck me, take me, just fuck me,” he said. “Somebody needs dirty talk practice.”

  I pushed him off me. “Fuck you,” I said, and he laughed.

  Odin and Zeus came back late that afternoon. They were thrilled with the catfish sandwiches, which were apparently a delicacy for bank robbers. They seemed unalarmed by Thor’s having stolen a car for us to drive on errands, though I couldn’t help but notice that Thor didn’t tell them about the driving-in-front-of-a-cop-while-orgasming caper. Was that whole incident really just another way an outlaw acts like an outlaw? Beneath mention? Or was it something he preferred to hide?

  Odin and Zeus talked about their day. They were feeling good about what they’d seen—roads, alarm company, security, routine.

  Zeus said, “What really gets my dick hard is the way Odin’s traffic light disruptors work.”

  “We took control of a light just on a drive by,” Odin said. “Fucking-g thing of beauty.”

  “Lucky we didn’t blow them on the Baylortown job.” Thor tilted his head at me, eyes twinkling. “Oh, right, there aren’t traffic lights there.”

  I hit him. He caught my wrist and kissed my hand.

  We feasted and drank a lot that night, the four of us. Room service carts were wheeled in and wheeled out, hot tub baths were taken. It was quite the drunken bash.

  After about my fifth glass of champagne, I saw fit to model my new underwear, happy I’d saved most of it from a bath.

  Zeus seemed quite aloof about my getup—he was in some kind of strange, smoldery mood, but Odin took one look at me and slowly took off his glasses, which thrilled me to no end, as it always did. He stood and stalked toward me. I backed away until I hit a corner, but he kept coming until he mashed right into me.

  It really was a kind of dance with these guys, and I loved every step of it. Odin trapped my hands above my head in the corner, mauling me deliciously, then he picked me up and brought me into another bedroom and we fucked, with Thor playing a fabulous supporting role.

  Right afterwards I noticed the tattoos on both their ankles.

  “What is that? Clouds and lightning?” I asked, squinting as Odin pulled his pants back on. The tattoos looked cool, and elaborate.

  “It’s nothing. Let’s get back to Zeus,” Odin commanded.

  I liked that they had matching tattoos, but I could see they didn’t want me making a big deal out of it. I jumped up and quickly changed back into everybody’s favorite sundress.

  We went back out to find Zeus smoking a joint, dancing all by himself to Gonna be Starting Something—yes, the Michael Jackson song. He’d used this interlude to put together a special playlist for our drunken revelry. Thor and Odin joined him in the dancing.

  I watched the three of them, filled with a kind of awe, thinking that when guys can dance around to Michael Jackson with total abandon and still seem powerful and dangerous, they really have reached the far end of the tough guy spectrum. Michael Jackson! These were my kind of bank robbers.

  “Come on,” Thor called.

  I jumped up and joined them. We danced while drinking champagne straight from the bottle. I was so getting into this outlaw thing. The next song was Beat It also, of course, by Michael Jackson. I grabbed my new wig of long brown hair—Thor and I had picked it up thinking about the heist—and it afforded me the opportunity to swing my hair to the music, a pleasure lost when we’d cut mine off. When Elton John’s Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting came on we all four danced like crazy people, and my bandits even seemed to know most of the words. I got up and danced on the coffee table like a spotlight dancer at a go-go club, and then Thor took his turn to do a special dance on the table, and then Odin did a strange sort of athletic dance later, when Ballroom Blitz came on. We were all laughing Even grumpy Zeus laughed a bit, though he refused to get up on the table and dance, much as we all begged.

  I sighed, thinking it was so sad, Zeus not dancing or taking part in our dirty fun. I eyed the latest set of flowers he had destroyed, petals ripped in half and left in little mounds near the vase, which contained only stems. Apparently not all the room service waiters had gotten the memo about bringing flowers to our room. It made me want to cry. Then again, I was totally bombed.

  Later the subject was robbery. “It’s ninety percent nerve,” Thor said to me after the waiter had delivered a cart with a pyramid of chocolate candies. “Bank robbery is ninety percent nerve, and the nerve makes the magic.”

  I teased him about being new age-y. A new age bank robber. That almost merited a spanking punishment, but it was quickly commuted to the withholding of chocolates. I took some anyway and we wrestled around, fighting over them, and eventually Zeus threw Thor in the hot tub. My badass Peter Pans were experts in living the decadent criminal lifestyle.

  The next day we were all hung over and subdued, and Odin and Zeus did a bit more surveillance, and there were some practice runs. And that night, the eve of the robbery, my bandits behaved like monks. They ate healthy meals and they went to bed early without sex. They pulled into themselves, each in his own way. Marshalling their inner reserves, I suppose.

  Something Zeus said made me think that this was their usual pattern—a night of wildness two nights before a robbery to blow off steam, but a night of good behavior right before the robbery.

  Suddenly it was the next day, and we were on our way to knock off another First City.

  Thor had convinced them to let me baby-sit the car outside the bank, swearing up and down I had the nerve for it. Zeus was weird about it, as though there was something voodoo about my taking Venus’s place as car sitter, even temporarily. But really, what if somebody double parked and screwed up their escape? So he relented. They were such pros in so many ways, but when you lifted the corners, they were all just a bit crazy.

  I knew how they were going to pull it off—the four of us had had a lot of discussions about First City procedures and I felt like I’d greatly helped them refine their ideas. It would be a cinch, but still, I was pretty apprehensive.

  Thor stole a different car for the job—an old Thunderbird—and not from the hotel parking lot. The idea was that we’d ditch it and switch to the van on the other side of town; the van was waiting for us, all tricked out with compartments.

  So there I was, driving my guys in a stolen car, wearing the brown wig over my short platinum hair, and gloves, of course, because my fingerprints were on file, being that I’d been in the banking industry. I had my own throwaway phone in my pocket. I felt like a real bank robber. It was a total freakout.

  When they’d robbed my bank they’d blown up two cars and set smoke bombs, creating chaos to aid their getaway. This time, they were going for the traffic light chaos—Odin had created little electronic impulse-emitting devices for placement on lights; these devices would throw the timing off. He’d jogged around town putting them on there at dawn. They’d also messed with the back parking lot cameras.

  They wore their fine business suits, and Thor put on the earpiece that let him monitor police bands. I let them off in different areas—Zeus would go in alone first, then Thor and Odin would go in together afterward with Starbucks cups as their props, like colleagues out for a midmorning coffee run.

  After I dropped them off, I

drove around the block once, as we’d practiced the day before, and pulled into one of the secluded spots in the back, almost in an alley. We’d identified this place as ideal.

  I let the back door hang open an inch, so that it would be easy for Thor and Odin to get in, and positioned myself between the seats in the front so that I could slam into the passenger side quickly and let Zeus take the wheel, but still with access to the driver’s side if I needed to maneuver the car for any reason.

  And there I waited, heart pounding, engine running.

  A few bank customers went in the back way—most FCNs have front and back entrances.

  I was to call if I saw cops.

  They’d estimated the robbery would take seven minutes.

  At minute eight, I started freaking out. No cops entered, and I heard no gunshots, but a lot can go wrong in a robbery. Never had I realized quite how much could go wrong, in fact, until I was sitting there in minute nine, thinking of all the ways.

  And then the door opened and my three guys came walking out—fast—carrying bags, wearing their masks.

  I opened the driver’s side door and slid into the passenger side. Zeus buckled up and they all tore off their masks and we were off, gunning through the alley and out onto the street.

  “A second robbery. That should result in some fucked up publicity for your old boss,” Odin said. “And you’re going to be happy with our take.”

  Thor said, “Very happy, Ice.”

  “Sounds to me like some naughty tellers weren’t keeping their second drawers light,” I said.

  Zeus rolled down the window. Cars jammed the streets, honking, but mostly the routes going toward the bank were affected. They’d chosen the Thunderbird for its pick up. If we had to run, it would be in the Thunderbird.

  We rolled out of the business district, not talking. I had this feeling it was all too easy, but I didn’t want to jinx things by saying that aloud.

  We parked around the corner from the van—illegally, but hey, that’s the luxury of a stolen car—and got out with the money in bags and briefcases.

  We headed into a department store, splitting up inside—Thor and I as a couple looking at shoes, Odin and Zeus wandering on their own. This, too, we’d practiced the day before. The entire escape plan was completely different from the one they’d used with my bank. My guys seemed far more worried about anybody making a connection from one bank job to another than about outwitting the cops on any single job.

  It made me so sad to think that after this I’d be dumped in a truck stop in Nevada. Blindfolded. Furthermore, Thor had told me we’d have to fuck up my haircut, otherwise people would know it was professionally done. “If your story is that we kept you blindfolded and drugged most of the time, your hair has to look like we cut it ourselves,” he said.

  At least I got to keep the color—the stylist had left a bit of roots. The hair color version of pre-ripped jeans.

  Out the corner of my eye I saw Zeus heading for the door that led to the street the van was on. Then Odin.

  “They’re out,” I said.

  Thor took my hand and we wandered toward the exit, out onto the sidewalk, and into the back of the van. Zeus and Odin were in the front, as usual.

  We headed out to the highway, took a curlicue, and hit I-59 going northwest.

  The mood loosened once we were zooming along. Odin even crowed a bit about what awesome robbers they were, and Thor counted up the money. Let’s just say many Paris Hilton comforters would soon be ordered.

  That’s when the trouble began.

  At first it was just Zeus not liking a car behind us. Evidently, it’s hard to tell if a car is following you on the highway; the only way is to slow down or take an exit. Zeus slowed, and the car in question slowed.

  That got everyone’s attention.

  My stomach twisted in knots. “You think it’s the cops?”

  “No,” Zeus said ominously.

  Oh. The other guys. The ones they were actually scared of. Odin and Thor argued about taking the upcoming exit. They pulled out their smart phones, scanning geography, maps.

  Odin suggested the exit after. It was a better place for bailing, he thought. There was a flea market. An antique car show event next to it. Some kind of fairgrounds that would be good and busy.

  “Fuck if we’re bailing,” Zeus said. But he took the exit.

  So did our tail.

  Thor sucked in a deep breath, sat straight, belted in. “Put your wig back on, Ice,” he said.

  As if on cue, Zeus took a violent U-turn and then gunned the engine.

  “Crap!” I grabbed the door handhold.

  Thor continued, unperturbed by the car chase. “Zeus can probably outrun this guy, but you may need to bail with us. You can’t let them catch you. And you have a good chance to get away, because it won’t be you they’re focusing on. It’s us they want.”

  I gripped the handhold more tightly as the van careened around a corner. “Can I help? If it’s not me they want?”

  “No. And don’t try. It’s better for all of us.” We swung around another corner, tires screeching. “Don’t look out there,” Thor said. “Look at me, and try to relax.”

  “Are you saying that because I’ll have less chance of being injured in a car crash if I’m not tensed?”

  “Yes,” Thor said. “That’s kind of why.”

  “Crap!” I felt frightened. “What about you? How bad is this?”

  “Do we have skills?” he asked.

  “They must’ve staked out the van,” Odin said from the front as Zeus sped up ominously. “This isn’t even the robbery, it’s the goddamn van.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for those fuckin’ eight cylinders in that T-bird goddammit,” Zeus growled, turning again, practically tipping us over.

  “Fucking-g American pussy van,” Odin muttered.

  “I don’t want us to die in a car,” I said.

  “You won’t.” Thor grabbed my hand. “If we bail, you just concentrate on getting out of sight and finding a hidey hole. Then you ditch that jacket and that wig and forget about us. Remember our story? You’ve been drugged and blindfolded for two or three days.”

  “Right.” I nodded.

  “You don’t know how long it’s been,” Thor continued, “and you don’t want to talk. Remember how we talked about how you don’t have to say shit?”

  I nodded. I didn’t have to say shit.

  I couldn’t believe this might be the end of the line for us. I wanted to say something to Thor, to all of them. I wanted to say what they meant to me, though I didn’t know if I could quite articulate it. It was huge, what they meant to me. Maybe too huge. They’d shaken my life out of its stupor. I would miss them deeply.

  The ride turned bumpy, like we were going over railroad ties or something. Or maybe it was the van.

  Odin said, “There’s a DD south of the city. That’s our meet-up spot. On the sevens at the seven.”

  “What’s a DD?” I asked frantically.

  “I can’t tell you that,” Thor said. “That is a code about where we’re meeting later if we bail and disperse.”

  “I thought you guys never split up,” I said.

  “Special occasion,” Thor said.

  “Damn,” I said.

  “Breathe,” Thor commanded. “Odin likes this fairgrounds. A trade show, a car show, it’s a fucking rabbit warren. We can do this. You can do this. And we’ll buy up your silly Paris Hilton comforters.”

  “I don’t care about the comforters,” I said.

  “Fairgrounds!” Odin called out.

  “I go first.” Thor squeezed my hand. I wondered vaguely if they’d done this before. They all seemed to know their parts. “Okay? You stay until Zeus tells you.”

  “Good luck…” I said, baffled. “Thank you…”

  Thor jammed some money and a bunch of other stuff into his pockets and strapped a fanny pack around his waist. Then he stretched a fist out toward Zeus and Odin. “God pack,” he said, and Odin and Zeus slapped his fist. I found the movement to be deeply poignant, my three robbers in danger, slapping hands goodbye. “Come on, Ice,” he said.

  I slapped his fist, trying not to cry.

  The van screeched and slowed and he jumped out into a crowd, and then we surged forward again, almost running over some people.

  I stared in horror out the back window. Somebody got out of the car behind us and dashed into the crowd.

  “They’re following him!” I said.

  “They won’t catch him,” Odin said as we screeched around a tent, now totally offroading. People screamed.

  Zeus zoomed into a parking ramp and started racing around, climbing upwards.

  “This is fucked up!” Odin said. He and Zeus argued about how to shake the tail. Odin had firecrackers he thought to use.

  It was all happening so fast—all this danger on the heels of all the suspense, the sex, the debauchery. I kind of got it, at that moment, about what Thor said about why everything had to be so extreme—the luxury, the food, the sex. Everything too much and all at once, but it all balanced out in a weird way.

  We headed back down—I was completely dizzy by the time we blasted out of the ramp onto a relatively empty straightaway behind a building. Cars and semi-trailer trucks lined the sides.

  “Bye, Isis,” Odin said as Zeus slowed. He jumped out, right out from the moving van, rolling on the ground and then dashing between trucks and disappearing.

  Zeus and I kept on. Or more, bumped along. Something was wrong with the van.

  “We’re riding the rims,” Zeus said. “Just like we’re on an episode of COPS, huh?”

  “That’s not so comforting,” I said.

  We headed behind a main fairgrounds building, but the van was breaking down. Slowing, bumping harder.

  “See those workers going in and out of the back of that long building?” Zeus asked. “We’re going near there. When I say, you pop out and run like hell for that door. You get in there and make your way through to the front of the building where the crowds are. It’s probably a storage area or a kitchen back here, but it will lead to the front. Just use your will. Once you’re through, into the public part, you go left and get lost, got it? Once you’re in there, you do not know me.”

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