Merlot (3 page)

Looking through the teller area and out the
drive-up window he saw two armed guards wheeling a grocery cart
piled high with green trash bags to an armored car.

“Hello.” The nameplate on the window said
Erma but her nametag said Cindy.

“Are you Erma or Cindy?” he asked.

“Right now, I’m crazy,” she said.

“Pretty busy I guess, what with the fair and
all?”

“Been like this all day. It will get
absolutely insane the last hour before we close. It’s like a sauna
behind this glass.”

“We’ve got a half dozen extra people and
equipment just to try and keep up. Six o’clock can’t get here fast
enough. There might be a wine cooler or two in my future tonight.
What can I do for you?”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to get two fives for
this ten if I could?” sliding a ten-dollar bill under the thick
glass.

“Long wait for two fives. Will there be
anything else, sir?”

“No, thanks. Well, actually,” he said,
folding the fives into his wallet and pulling out a business card,
“if you’re serious about that wine cooler, stop in and see us
tonight, DiMento’s, we’re up on Snelling, corner of Selby. Address
is on the card, prime rib tonight, I’ll spring for your dinner,
and…”

“Ahem,” a woman behind him cleared her throat
in an agitated manner.

“Hope I see you there,” he winked.

“Thank you, Anthony,” she said reading his
card.

“We’ve all been waiting,” the women said as
she stepped to the counter.

* * *

“Will you look at all this shit,” Mendel
complained.

Lucerne drove them past a crowded little
bank. Elvis snored in the backseat of the Fleetwood. A ’94 and
originally “Dark Adriatic Blue”, it had been two toned with the
help of white spray paint and Elvis’s lousy aim. A poor attempt to
disguise the car. In point of fact, it only served to draw
attention.

“Mercy, hello there city gal,” Lucerne
leered. A young mother gathered her two children closer. The
Fleetwood engulfed them in a noxious blue cloud of exhaust that
seemed to hang in the humid air.

“Go round the block here and let’s just see
what all the fuss is back there. I just might be gettin me an idea
or two, make up for that damn Henderson banker pulling the plug on
us too soon,” Mendel said.

* * *

“Umm, thanks,” Dickie said, then swallowed
the half pound of prime rib he had been chewing and chased it down
with a large swallow of beer.

“No, Merlot, your situation is nothing like
that, no matter how busy you are on a Friday or Saturday night.
That branch I was telling you guys about last night, they’re
bringing in millions, literally millions a day. All of it cash.
You’d blow your brains out if you were there, man.”

He paused to swirl a doughnut sized onion
ring through a puddle of catsup, then stuffed the entire thing into
his mouth.

“We actually went up to the Indian casinos,
saw how they did it, got some general ideas there. Although we’re
about a thousand times busier than those folks.”

“So what, you guys put a machine gun on the
roof or something?”

“Naw, I mean the cops could be there in about
two minutes. That’s probably the best defense we’ve got, right
there. You know, keep a low profile. The couriers are in there on
an hourly basis hauling away as much as they can.”

“To tell you the truth, we’re more concerned
with electronic theft. Transfers, passwords, identity theft,
hackers. Hell, that shit you hear on the news, whenever some bank
gets knocked off, those punks only get away with a grand maybe two
if they’re lucky. And, if they’re stupid enough to be repeat guys,
that’s when they get nailed.”

“I mean, the real dirty little secret is that
just about any fool can rob a bank and get away with it. But the
dumb shits never do that. They rob a second and a third because it
seems so damn easy, that’s when they get nailed.”

“Now the electronic stuff, the shit I’m
involved with, you don’t have to be at the bank to attempt to pull
that off. Hell, you don’t even have to be in the country. That shit
gets really spooky. You’d be amazed, Merlot, absolutely amazed.
Course your deposits are safe with us. Ahh, I think I’ll have the
cheese cake,” he said looking up at the waitress, fingers grasping
the last onion ring.

“And, well, since Merlot’s buying, maybe just
one more beer.”

They chatted on about vague things, Merlot
feeling relatively upbeat after gaining the initial intelligence
from Dickie. Upbeat at least until Dickie mentioned Merlot’s own
personal slump the night before at cards, he’d bet three of a kind
against Dickie’s flush.

“Yeah, well I felt I had a string of luck
coming my way, and I did, actually. I just never thought it would
be bad luck,” he said walking Dickie to the door.

“Merlot to the Lounge, Merlot to the Lounge
bar,” the overhead page interrupted whatever remained of their
conversation.

“Gotta run, Dickie. Thanks for the advice,
good seeing you.”

“See you Sunday, Merlot, pre-season Vikings,
man, don’t forget.”

* * *

“Yeah Tommy, what is it?” he asked his Lounge
room bartender.

Tommy inclined his head toward six figures
clustered at the far end of the bar, “I don’t know, some bullshit
about the dinner. The band for tonight, bunch of assholes if you
ask me. Anyway, figured you’d want to deal with it. That dildo in
the black jacket with all the silver studs and the golf tee thru
his nose, he’s doing the talking.”

Collectively they looked to weigh about
eighty pounds soaking wet, after you removed all the metal
piercings. He wondered for half a second if they ever had to pass
through airport security. The four with hair had it dyed a variety
of different colors, none found in nature. They had an odor about
them, not necessarily unpleasant, but definitely not aftershave,
more like incense. He wouldn’t have given a dollar for all their
clothes.

“Kiss of Death, right, the band?”

“It’s about the dinner.”

“We got the best prime rib in town.”

“Yeah man, that’s the bummer, see dude we’re
all vegans. So, like, the prime rib thing is, well, it’s just
totally bogus.”

To Merlot’s way of thinking the only thing
worse than a soft-spoken California accent was some jerk from
Minnesota affecting a soft spoken California accent. He reminded
himself the band was supposed to pack them in all weekend.

“Sorry about the mix-up, look, I’ll have the
kitchen rustle some things up for you. We’ll bring it into the
green room off the stage, if that’s okay? And I’ll make sure the
word gets passed around for the next two nights. Okay?” It wasn’t
worth asking why they agreed to play a steak and prime-rib place if
they were so opposed to red meat.

For one long moment they stood as one stupid
block of pierced anatomy.

“Well, yeah, dude, that would be screaming,”
Dildo said.

“Good, then screaming it is,” Merlot said,
wishing he could.

“I’ll go take care of it personally, get
things delivered and you guys can go through your sound check,
okay?”

Dildo nodded and Merlot retreated to the
kitchen before he strangled the entertainment.

“Bonnie, Caesar salads, six of them to the
green room and mix a little bacon fat into the dressing,” he
yelled, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“Hunh?”

“Bacon fat, you heard me, mix it in with the
dressing, but not too much.”

* * *

He was back in the Lounge area a little after
eleven. Kiss of Death was packing them into the back bar area as
promised. A strange looking crowd but their money was just as
green. He was chatting with Tommy the bartender, the Lounge area
more of the meat market for the older set.

Tommy’s eyes looked over Merlot’s right
shoulder and remained fixed, causing Merlot to turn.

“Hi, Anthony.”

It took him a beat or two to realize she was
talking to him. An attractive woman, with blond hair pulled back,
brown eyes, jeans that looked as if they were spray-painted on, and
a well-fitting top that must have been held in place with
industrial strength adhesive. She looked vaguely familiar.

“Excuse me?”

“I said hi, Anthony. You don’t remember me,
do you?” she laughed.

“It’s just that it’s sort of out of context
here,” he groveled.

“I’m Cindy, remember, from the bank? You were
in this afternoon and gave me your card. Changed a ten for two
fives? Ring any bells?”

Yes, it did, alarm bells, which he promptly
ignored.

“Oh yeah, Cindy, nice to see you, wow, thanks
for coming in. Like I said, just a little out of context in here.
You know, the lights and you not on the other side of bullet proof
glass. Been here long?”

“No, no we just got here, Anthony, this is my
friend, Karen.” Cindy said moving back half a step as a way of
further introduction.

Karen seemed like a nice woman, attractive
enough but Merlot knew from bitter past experience that she had but
one function. She was the third wheel. There to make sure Cindy
didn’t end up in bed with Merlot. For some reason certain women
felt they had to make sure their friends weren’t tumbling in and
out of bed with Merlot and his ilk, and so they always accompanied
their girlfriends. Ready at the first sign of a loud laugh or
slurred word to apply the brakes to an evening’s fun.

“Nice to meet you, please call me Merlot,” he
said extending his hand.

Karen nodded, dutifully playing her role.

“Merlot? Like the wine?” Cindy asked, taking
a half step forward returning Karen to the background.

“Yeah,” he replied, wisely thinking that
would not be a good tale to tell right now. Maybe laughing a bit
too nervously before turning toward Tommy hoping he might interject
some bartender’s etiquette and save his sorry hide.

“Ladies, what’ll it be?” Tommy asked.

“Why, I think I’ll have a glass of merlot,
then,” Cindy cooed, all smiles.

“Just a Coke,” Karen said, staying in
character.

“So, like what? I mean, do you own a winery
or something?” Cindy asked.

“How about you just call me that and I’ll
tell you some other time. It’s a long story and, well, you
know.”

Actually, the telling of the event itself
didn’t take that long. But, climbing naked out a second-story
bedroom window after throwing up two bottles of red wine on a
married woman while he husband charged up the stairs always led to
more questions. It might shed an unfavorable light on the whole
first-impression thing.

“Do I call you Anthony or Tony?” she said,
picking up her glass of wine and raising it to Merlot.

“Tony would be fine.”

They chatted on and off over the next hour
and a half. Karen sipped Cokes and kept a governor on the
conversation until finally, after her third coke, she left to use
the ladies room. It was another axiom when dealing with women. They
always went to the ladies room in multiples, unless there were only
two, and one of them was there strictly in the role as the third
wheel. In that case, the rule was the third wheel went alone, and
the woman you were really interested in got about six minutes of
uncensored airtime.

“Gee, Tony, it was really nice of you to
invite me tonight. Are you sure, I don’t owe you something for all
this?” She asked, rubbing her index finger briefly across the back
of his hand.

“No, I wouldn’t think of it. There have to be
some perks to working nights and being the owner. Having you stop
in is one of them. Really nice of you to drop by,” he said,
spotting Karen making her way across the room.

“My pleasure,” she said, starting to slide
out of the booth. He was suddenly aware of her breasts taking on a
life of their own as they bounced their way across the booth an
inch above the tabletop, ultimately swaying to rest just above his
forehead.

“Really, really nice to meet you both,” he
said.

“Well another zoo day tomorrow at work,” she
said, holding out her hand.

He took it, gently pulled her close to him as
he did, kissing her cheek.

She turned quickly, gave him a second kiss on
the lips, not a lingering, mouth-open kiss, but a good beat or two
longer than a peck. Something akin to an electrical charge surged
through their bodies.

“Working tomorrow? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, special hours because of the fair, you
know. Anyway, thanks again Tony, we enjoyed talking to you,” she
laughed, throwing her purse over her shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks for the Cokes,” trumpeted
Karen, ruining the moment.

“The pleasure was all mine, ladies. Thanks, I
still owe you dinner,” he said making a point to specifically
address just Cindy.

“We’d enjoy that,” she said smiling.

“We,” he contemplated. Not bad. Then wondered
what in the hell he was doing in light of his plan to rob the bank
where she worked?

* * *

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Karen
asked driving home.

“What do you mean?” Cindy said.

“I mean, this guy, this Merlot character. Cin, not
that we want to go into your past, so I won’t, but for starters the
guy calls himself Merlot.”

“But I called him Tony.”

“Honey, were you listening? He introduced
himself as Merlot, and he doesn’t own a winery, so don’t get on
that jag. He’s either a drunk, a goofball, possibly a looser, but
more likely all three. I mean, let’s face it, your luck hasn’t been
all that great the past couple of years.”

“Oh, I don’t think.”

“Remember your last great love, Sheldon? If I
recall correctly, after mooching off you for three months he
drained your bank account. Hey, and what’s with the ‘we’d enjoy
dinner’ line? What did I miss?”

“I kinda liked him. He bought us drinks,”
Cindy said.

“The way you’re dressed, any guy in there
would have bought you drinks. Look, I know how it is. Jesus, the
last time I can remember being in bed with someone my nieces slept
over and got scared in the middle of the night. I’m just suggesting
that you go slow, that’s all.”