Diamond in the Rough

Fiona rubs her bloodshot eyes and wonders when this headache will pass. Of course it is her own fault since she made that choice to drink several shots of vodka and has to live with the embarrassment of falling going up the stairs. At the time she had laughed about it, but now she just feels idiotic.

Fiona leans against the two seater sofa in her office and switches on the TV that is in a unit, surrounded by books. She stares in amazement at the local news channel, the reporter describing a bank robbery by four masked gunmen. The reporter says that there is only one casualty and he seems to be in a stable condition, the police are investigating leads.

Fiona sighs heavily. She doubts that the police will get very far with their investigation because there are plenty of people who could do the job. Back in high school an armoured truck had been robbed and everyone spoke about it for days. Still, she can't quite believe that someone would have the brass neck to rob a bank in broad daylight. These guys are smart.

***

The community ice rink is barren except for the three men who are waiting impatiently for their fourth member of the team. The parking lot is empty of cars and the rink is dark and ghostly, devoid of noise.
Doug climbs up the empty bleachers and sits next to Gloansy and he notices Jem's bruised knuckles around the gold and green Claddagh ring.

"Nothing went sour till the end" Jem says in a quiet confidence.

"Won't happen again" Gloansy adds.

"It's alright" Doug replies.

"I tell you what won't happen again and that's if the joint gets boosted again, Happy's gonna keep his hand's off the fucking buzzer" Jem replies, still angry that the job could have gone a lot worse.

"Four guys come in with ak's and he decides to pull the alarm? You gotta be fucking slow" Gloansy answers Jem.

Doug knows he needs to defuse this situation before a pound of flesh is taken.

"What's the magic number?" Doug asks Jem.

"7-6-7-5-0. A piece" Jem rhymes off, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Des wolf-whistles, impressed with the cut.

"Minus some consecutives I incinerated. Plus ten off the top for the florist"

Doug shoots Jem a look.

"Dougy's share's at my place. You two's.." Jem hands Des and Gloansy two orange keys for lockers down at the bus station. "For anyone whose down for a laundry run tonight. We meet at six"

Jem and Doug walk slowly out of the memorial ice rink, Des and Gloansy already gone separately.

"This shit with the florist is getting old" Doug states.

"I'm just makin' sure we got a marquee score here. If it means makin' payments, then we'll make payments"

"Fuck makin' payments" Doug snaps "we're talking risks here for nothing"

"Stop letting' your pride getting in the way of your money"

"Now you're a financial expert?"Doug scoffs.

"Hey. Were you with me for nine years in Walpole?" Jem replies angrily. His fists are clenched.

Doug knows how to wind him down. He's been the only person ever been able to calm Jem's temper.

"Okay. What did you have in walpole?"

"Fuck up, man" Jem says with a laugh.

They continue walking down the street, their eyes scanning parked cars and people on the other side of the street. They know the cops have nothing on them, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious.

"So, when did we start taking hostages?" Doug asks in a reasonable tone.

"We're doing what we have to do,brother"

"We don't need to work with that piece of shit" Doug says, referring to the Florist.

"You can tell himself. Come on"