The Failure by James Greer Page A

for an untrustworthy creep.
    -I’m trustworthy.
    -So you intend to follow through with this ridiculous and almost-certain-to-fail plan to rob your check-cashing place?
    -I do. Or I did. Until now. Why do you think it’s almost certain to fail? Guy’s got everything worked out.
    -Yeah, he’s good at that. He’s also good at the gang aft agley part about best-laid schemes. I mean in the original Burns poem, not the Steinbeck version.
    Charlie gave a look expressing puzzlement.
    -Don’t even bother, she continued, before Charlie could protest. -I don’t know why I’m talking to you like this. I think I might actually be nervous. Which is odd. I’m almost never nervous.
    -Maybe you actually care about him?
    -Yeah, replied Violet softly, surprising herself at her own half-admission. -I … it’s just with Guy, he’s always got these grand projects, he’s so busy trying to make something out of nothing that he can’t see the something he already … Anyway, I want him to be happy. I want to try to make him happy. I don’t do this, as a rule. I don’t get involved. That’s how my husband got killed.
    She reacted to Charlie’s shocked expression with an impatient toss of her head.
    -If he goes through with the plan—which I did my best to talk him out of, but to be honest my best is not very good, so I kind of figured he wouldn’t listen—he will get caught, or worse, and from what I understand, your part in all this is central, so if you don’t do your part, he will still fail, but on a much smaller scale. Call it damage control.
    -Damage control, repeated Charlie.
    A moment of heavy silence passed between them. Violet sighed.
    -Am I really that beautiful?
    -Yes.
    -Okay, then. Let’s get started. She began undressing.
    -No, said Charlie.
    Violet stopped. -No? You’re saying no?
    -Yes.
    Violet shrugged, began dressing again. -So much for Plan Violet.
    -It wasn’t a very good plan.
    -You’re probably right, said Violet, in a slow monotone.

28. DAY OF THE LOCUS. GUY AND BILLY SIT IDLING IN THEIR PROBABLY STOLEN CAR IN THE PARKING LOT OF THE KOREAN CHECK-CASHING PLACE

    W hat time is it? asked Billy. -It’s thirty seconds later than the last time you asked me.
    -I forget what time you told me it was then.
    -That’s not my problem. I’ll let you know when it’s time.
    -Are we close?
    -We’re not far.
    -Do you think Sven should be here by now?
    -No, but I’m beginning to have doubts about you being here.
    -I’d feel better going in if I knew our getaway driver had arrived.
    -I told him to get here at 9:05. We’re going in at exactly nine. We’ve been over this, Billy, and over this and over this.
    -I know. I guess you could say I’m skittish.
    -Turns out.
    -Can we go over procedure one last time?
    -I’d prefer not to.
    Guy turned to Billy, a wan smile on his face.
    -William. Look around. There are dozens of cars here, same as us, engines idling, same as us. That’s why we picked this day. Everyone’s here waiting for the place to open, paychecks or Social Security checks in hand. There’s nothing suspicious in us being here as well. And, if you must know, although I haven’t said anything, Sven is already here. I’m not going to point him out until we’re on our way out of the store, because if I do you’ll be constantly looking over at him, which is the type of thing we really don’t need right now.
    -He’s here? Where? Billy’s head spun around, looking.
    -I was kidding. He’s not here.
    -I’d feel better if he was here.
    Guy looked at his watch, sighed. Glancing into the store, he could see Charlie at the front door, beginning the process of unlocking the series of deadbolts. People began to exit their cars and make their way to the door.
    -Okay. It’s time.
    -It’s time? Already?
    -Yes, already. Let’s have the ski masks.
    Billy unfurled the crumpled paper bag in his lap, put his hand in, extracted two knit ski caps, robin’s-egg blue in color.
    -What the fuck? said