The Amateurs by Marcus Sakey

a second too late, the rhythm all wrong. There were undercurrents of meaning that he didn’t understand, agendas he wasn’t privy to.
    “How about you, Mitch? What would you do?”
    “What is this? What are you talking about?”
    Ian cracked his knuckles one at a time. Alex kept his eyes steady, a challenge.
    Fifty thousand. Did that mean something? Why would they be talking about—
    “Are you kidding me?” His voice came out higher than he meant. “Fifty thousand. You saw a couple hundred in the safe. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That split four ways. You’re talking about robbing the bar.”
    Alex shook his head. “Not the bar. Johnny.”
    “What’s the difference?”
    “You know the difference.”
    “You’re joking, right?” He looked from one to the other.
    “No,” Jenn said. “No, we’re not.”
    “I figured out a way to do it,” Alex said. “It’s safe.”
    Mitch had a gentle buzz softening the edges of things, making him a little slower than he’d like. “You’ve been planning this? The three of you?”
    “We weren’t keeping it from you. I just talked to Jenn last night. Ian this morning.”
    “If you talked to her last night and him this morning, how exactly is that not keeping it from me?”
    Alex leaned forward. “Listen, before you react, will you hear me out?”
    Mitch stared, flushing from the wine and the old junior-high feeling of being an outsider, of everybody looking and pointing. He leaned back, set his napkin on the plate. Finally, he nodded.
    “It was really your idea.”
    “ My idea?”
    “You got me thinking the right way. I talked about quitting and taking the money, and you said it would be better to do it while I was working, so it wasn’t obvious.”
    “I was kidding.”
    “Still, you were right. But just being there isn’t enough. There has to be absolutely no way it can come back on us. If I’m at the bar, I’m a suspect like everybody else.”
    Mitch rocked his chair back. Finally said, “OK. Against my better judgment.”
    “We don’t do it any old night I’m working. We do it Tuesday. The night Johnny is doing his deal. The night I’m working as his bodyguard,” Alex said. “In other words, don’t just rob Johnny Love. Rob him while I’m protecting him. And rob me, too. ”
    “I get it. If we tie you up right next to him—”
    “Maybe even hit you,” Ian interjected.
    “Then it looks like outside people, thieves, heard about the deal.”
    “You’re warm.”
    Mitch paused, then got it. “Better. It looks to Johnny like the guys he was dealing with decided to rip him off. And the same in reverse.”
    “Those books you read are paying off,” Alex said. “Exactly. The timing is tight, but it’s worth it.”
    “Except for one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “We’re not criminals.”
    The big man’s smile widened a notch. “Exactly.”
    “Huh?”
    Ian said, “That’s just it. We’re not criminals. We’re normal people. No one, not the cops, not Johnny, no one would look at us. It’s like if four people robbed a liquor store down the street. Would you start by checking to see if a trader, a travel agent, a doorman, and a bartender were involved?”
    “And you know the best thing?” Alex leaned back. “You’ll like this part. Two days later we show up calm as anything, like normal. Just four folks who meet on Thursdays.”
    Despite himself, Mitch laughed. “Only the drinks are on Johnny.”
    “For a long time.”
    They fell silent. An almost physical tension hung over the table. From the speakers, a voice serenaded that nothing mattered when they were dancing, whether in Paris or in Lansing. Lights flickered on in a room in the opposite building. “How would we—how do we—”
    “Simple. You and Ian come in the back. I’ll make sure it’s unlocked. The kitchen staff leaves it that way all the time anyway. You wear masks, come in hard and fast, guns out—”
    “ Guns? ”
    “And cow us both. Ian,