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Family Values by Amy Hunter
Recklessness . Capitalism . Greed .
Last winter , I traveled sixty-three miles to locate an open diner — one whose managers hadn ’ t given its workers the holiday off or allowed their bleeding hearts to buy into religious propaganda . I expected empty booths and a bored wait staff , but the place was crowded with families shoveling scattered , smothered , covered , and who-the-hell-knows-what-kind of hash browns into their bulging faces .
I took a seat at the counter and ordered coffee . Disgusting coffee . The shit had actual sediment . But , I hadn ’ t forgotten why I came . I finished the cup and smoothly removed the nine-millimeter pistol from my leather jacket .
“ Empty the safe and no one gets hurt .” I didn ’ t stutter once , but the ginger-haired cashier froze like an SUV stalled in traffic . I aimed the piece at his face , forcing him to hurry .
“ Yes , sir .” He completed the job in twenty seconds . People accomplish great things with the right incentive , and I have a talent for exploiting a person ’ s desire to live .
Voices from the kitchen filtered in just as I opened the door to run . Someone even threw a skillet that narrowly missed my head .
Thirty-six was too mature to roll businesses . I should have organized a replacement long before , but that job was too important , unlike any of my others .
Once mobile , lights from cop cars flashed in my rearview mirror . My heart pounded . I stepped on the gas . The chase was my game , not the money . The cash was for those who needed it the most . I wasn ’ t wealthy by any measure , but I wasn ’ t destitute .
Fear . Misery . Hunger .
The road curved , so I steered along the dotted lines . Within the forest was a private lane , so I veered right . The cops kept going , and I proceeded until I arrived at a single-wide trailer which housed a widow and her four children .
“ Ben ! You ’ re back !” My seven-year-old nephew ran to the car as I stepped out , hugging me around the waist .
His mom , Gina , wouldn ’ t accept money from me , so I paid her bills . I hired her to tidy up my apartment and overpaid , asked her to dog sit and wrote an extra zero on the check , etcetera .
Gina was proud , but she was hungry . We ’ ve all been there to some degree .
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At any rate , this is what we do for the people we love . One day I ’ ll be arrested and sent to prison , but until then , I ’ ll make damn sure my brother ’ s family has what they need . Happy holidays .