The Good, the Bad, and the Gwen | ✔️

6 - The Cigarette Heist

"We need to make a pit stop first," Hartley says as we settle into the pleated gray fabric of Sully's black SUV. She's riding shotgun while I'm stuck in the back seat.

"Where to?" Sully asks as I watch him in the mirror.

The way his mouth moves when he talks, his flawlessly sculpted jawline... How his sun-lightened waves somehow hold their windswept appearance, even in the throes of this eternal humidity.

Hartley pushes her hands through her unruly blonde curls. "I need to go to Thrift Mart. I'm out of smokes."

I'm suddenly reminded she's underage. "Don't they card you?"

My friend smiles over her shoulder. "Don't worry, it won't be a problem. I know a guy."

Sully runs a hand through his hair and pulls onto the street. "Are you sure John's working today?"

"It's Monday, so he should be."

For several minutes, we drive past ancient oak trees and narrow, rectangular homes that remind me of rows of teeth before Sully slides into a parking spot at the back of the Thrifty Mart Party Store.

"Shit," Hartley announces. "His car's not here. I think that grumpy old lady's working instead."

"We can try again tomorrow," Sully suggests, pulling down the visor to block the setting sun.

"I can't wait until tomorrow! I need a cigarette now." Hartley opens the passenger door and steps out into the parking lot. "I'm gonna need a disguise. Do you have anything?"

"What? You mean a costume? Oh, sure," he adds, sarcastically. "There's a Santa Claus suit in my back seat."

"Not a costume, silly. Maybe a hat? One for Gwen too, if you have it."

I poke my head over the front seat. "What do I need a hat for?"

"Because you're my distraction." With her hands grasping the hood of the SUV, Hartley leans forward, peering inside the vehicle. The wispy cardigan she's wearing over her sundress droops forward like a cape. "So what do you have, Sully?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. My duffel bag's in the way back. I might have a couple of hats in there."

"Perfect." She smiles. "Pop the rear so we can look."

When we get out to peek in the trunk, it's tidier than I expect for someone of Sully's age and gender. A soccer ball is tucked beside an unzipped sports bag, and a baseball bat and a pair of cleats are half-hidden underneath. Hartley grabs the bag and begins to rummage through its contents. "Here's one." She pulls out an old cap then hands me a navy-blue bandana, the edges gathered together in one long tie. "You take this."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" I ask, turning it over in my hands.

"Duh. Put it on your head." She twists her hair up in the back and slides the hat over top. "Sully can wait here with the car running."

"Wait a minute ..." I can't believe I'm about to say this. "You're not going to steal the cigarettes, are you?"

"Don't worry about what I'm going to do, just worry about what you're gonna do."

Sully shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the next. "Hart, you can't ask Gwen to help you with this. It's not right."

"Oh no!" I hiss, despite the very empty parking lot. "There's no way you're involving me in your little crime spree! What if we get caught?"

"You're not going to do anything other than talk to the nice lady," she says. "Let me take care of the rest."

"I thought you said she was grumpy." My chin juts forward in a feeble attempt to assert my defiance, while my heart pounds like a drum. "And if you end up in jail, I'll have to go back to Ohio!"