Livewire

Chapter 19

Carry on as normal everyday until the heist. That's what he told himself. Don't arouse any undue suspicion. Least of all from Hector. The one man he knew as a certainty had intimate connections to the cartel. He stared up at the ceiling fan in Trudie's flat, watching it go round and round. There was a distinctive yet subtle whir while it spun, only noticeable after hours of watching it.

Trudie stirred and turned into him. Her eyes opened a little and she peered up. "You didn't sleep much huh?"

He shook his head.

"You're worrying about the heist?"

He nodded.

"You've got a good plan. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Good isn't enough. It needs to be perfect. I can't stop thinking that I've missed something. I can't let things–" He stopped mid sentence.

"Go like they did before? In London?"

He nodded and let his head slump.

She put her hand on his cheek. "Things are different. Like you said Joe was set up by Mr Coulter." It did little to help. The knot of anxiety was tight and would be hard to unpick.

They got out of bed and Trudie started making some breakfast. He sat on the sofa, looking over his notes and drawings, expecting to see something wrong. Something he'd overlooked. The smell of burnt toast wafted over from the kitchen while Trudie jiggled her waist, tickling the spatula at the eggs in the frying pan. He did his best to ignore the smell. The coffee machine gurgled, pulling the last of the water out of the reservoir into the filter. The scent of coffee mingled with the eggs and toast, floating across the air to his nose.

Trudie was singing whilst she cooked. A tune he recognised from the first night he saw her perform in the jazz club. He found himself smiling and for the briefest moment not thinking about the heist. She platd up their breakfast and brought it over, giving it to him with a smile and a wink.

The toast wasn't burnt when it arrived on the plate. She'd probably not emptied the crumb tray on the toaster. It must be the old crumbs collected at the bottom. Long suffering the arduous daily torture of being scorched until they became small lumps of pure charcoal. Or inevitably set on fire.

He shook the thought from his mind.

Breakfast was a welcome distraction. Trudie took a big bite into her toast and crumbs cascaded down her top. "So, I'm working tonight. What are your plans?"

"I need to keep up the facade of normality. Thought I'd spend the night at Hector's."

"You sure that's a good idea? Don't you want to be fresh for tomorrow?"

"It's fine. I can handle myself."

She took a swig of coffee and nodded slowly before swallowing. She didn't need to say what she was thinking.

She cleared the empty plates away, sliding them into the sink. "You should try and get out today. Don't just sit in here looking at your plans. Take a ride and clear your head maybe?"

He sighed. "What are you gonna do?"

"I plan on pampering myself. Tomorrow is a big day so I wanna be as fresh as possible. I've booked myself in for a massage then I'm getting my hair and nails done. You can come with me if–"

"Yeah, a ride sounds like a good idea."

She laughed. "I thought so."

The only sort of ride that would help clear his head and keep him distracted for the rest of the day was a long, cross country ride. He filled up on fuel then hit the freeway heading south. He rode for three hours straight without stopping. Hunger necessitated him pulling off at a service station. He got back on his bike and rode non stop back to veracruz.