Forum
Part I: The Pitch
"Always," she kissed him, "Later."
In retrospect, she probably didn't have to run.
****************************
JAMES COUNTY DENNY'S-7:36 PM
Clarissa rapped her knuckles on the table impatiently, constantly looking over her shoulder past the booth she and Dom were seated at. "Isn't your friend supposed to be fast? He's six minutes late!"
"He is," said Dom, "Whaddaya want me to say?" he shrugged, "Maybe you made him nervous."
Clarissa scowled. "Why? How?"
"Well, don't take this the wrong way or nothin'," said Dom cautiously, "But you were given off a shitton of racist energy back there."
"WHAT?!" Clarissa bellowed, attracting the attention of a nearby middle-aged couple looking for their own booth. She politely smiled and waved, successfully sending them on their way.
Once they were out of sight, she leaned forward and whispered through gritted teeth, "I am not a racist!"
"I'm not saying I think you're racist!" Dom insisted, "Just that I get why Clyde'd think you were. You've got, yanno, like a...a racist...face."
"A racist face?" Clarissa scoffed. "You thought it was pretty enough to make your move last night! So I guess you're a racist, too!"
"I can't be racist! I'm Italian!"
"...what?!" Clarissa leaned forward. "I'll have you know that I have employed under me a well-esteemed vice principal who is in fact a woman of color. And she and I are great friends!" She thought honestly. "Respected colleagues." Again. "Colleagues."
"What? Kellerman?" Dom snorted, "I remember her. Bitch hated me. Thought I wouldn't go anyplace. Well, look at me now!" he gestured at the Denny's around them.
Clarissa had given up. "Yes. Climbing up the ladder of success." The bell attached to the door rang. Clyde entered, but...with a girl? "Who does that kid think he is? I told him to come alone!" She turned back to Dom. "I told him that, right? You were there. I told him."
Clyde escorted his date (only in his eyes, really...for now) to the counter of Denny's. "It's not a five-star restaurant but a victory dinner is a victory dinner. How 'bout I buy a shake like it's 1956 then we can shake it up at my place like it's 2016, if you know what I mean." He glanced to a booth, where his boy Dom and the President were sitting. "Once I take care of business, course."
-Clarissa and Clyde
"Just don't be too long. We really need to go over this homework," Zoe Vaughn said, giving a small smile.
"Stop being racist," he told her automatically, winking as he said it before launching into a, "AYYYYYYYYYYYY! My man. Waitress! A slammer for the speedster."
"Yeah, yeah. Homework, sure," Clyde said nonchalantly. Then, his boy called him. "AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! My-a-man-a-Dom! Gettin' himself da pizza pie at Signor Denny's?"
Clarissa buried her face in her hands.
Like a baller, he left Zoe a twenty to buy whatever variety of shake she pleased. "Go crazy. I won't be long."
-Clyde and Clarissa
Zoe took the twenty, and looked to her watch.
Did he really think he had a chance with her?
"What took so you long?" he asked, "Or...uh..." his eye darted to the girl at the counter, "Who?"
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Clyde sauntered over to Dom and gave him the dap. "Aw, she's just a side-project, if you know what I mean. She's tutorin' me in English or something. I forget. Point is..."
"Point is I told you to come alone!" Clarissa hissed, fuming with anger. "Do you realize what we're talking about has to be top secret?"
"Chill, Prez," Clyde said, cool. "She's just a date. A guy can multi-task, can't he?"
"Date?" Clarissa narrowed her eyes in disdain. "You take your date to Denny's? The fuck is wrong with you?"
"It's an eatery, yo! That's where dates are had!"
"Denny's is where old couples with no hope and truckers stop by to eat lunch!" Clarissa rasped back. "I mean, don't you kids go to...I don't know. The roller rink? The arcade?" She waited for an answer, getting none. "The mall? Don't you kids go to the mall anymore?"
-Clyde and Clarissa
"Or something," Dom snorted.
He eyed Clarissa, "Yeah, we go to the mall. For, like, weed and shit."
"Jesus Christ," Clarissa muttered. "My district. My fucking district..." She threw her hands in the air. "Let's just focus, alright? On the mission.
"What is this 'black ops' bull?" Clyde interrupted. "We're robbin' a..."
Clarissa spilled her water on his Supreme jacket. "Oops," she said, not at all convincingly.
Clyde was aghast. "What the hell?"
"You don't scream out loud 'We're robbing X,' you imbecile!" Clarissa rasped. "I know it'll kill you but you have to be subtle."
"Aight. Chill..." Clyde said, mourning the state of his bomber.
"Dom, you're our driver. You'll need to park outside for a quick getaway," Clarissa instructed her other, perhaps equally incompetent partner. "Can you get an inconspicuous car? Like a mini-van or something?"
-Clarissa and Clyde
Dom smirked at his friend, giving him a smart-alecky look as he did...
Only for that look to complete dissipate at Clarissa's question, "A minivan? The Stallion doesn't ride around in a damn Honda Civic!"
"I'm sorry, but people will notice a bunch of criminals fleeing in a Maserati!" Clarissa snapped, trying her best to keep her voice low despite her temper. "We have to blend in during and after the heist." She turned to Clyde. "You and I are going to rush in. Since you're faster, I'll keep everyone else busy while you pick up the cash."
"Keep everyone busy?" Clyde asked.
"You know. Like..." Clarissa shrugged. "Point a gun at them."
"WHOA!" Clyde burst out, holding his hands up in surprise. "Slow down! We're gonna be sticking people up?"
"Well, we're not gonna politely ask them to hand over the cash, Carter."
"Yeah, but..." Clyde looked around him. "You think we can trust ourselves with heat?"
"No," Clarissa said, digging for a "but" there. It was to no avail. "No, I don't. The guns are to make us look real. We aren't going to be shooting anyone. We're amateur bank robbers, not killers."
-Clarissa and Clyde
Dom slumped back in his seat, looking like a chastened kid, "Whatever you say..."
He looked from Clyde to Clarissa, "Stick-up. Right the fuck on," he ran a tongue over his teeth, "Where are we getting the hardware?"
"It's the South. Guns are as common as sunburn," Clarissa replied. "I'll take care of that. You, Carter..." She pointed to him. "You need to get some masks. So no one recognizes our faces during the robbery."
"Aw, sweet," Clyde said, nodding. "So it's basically like GTA V."
"...G...T...A?"
"Yeah, man. The game."
"This isn't a game, Carter," Clarissa emphasized further. "This is either get rich or get jailed."
"Aight. No need to be a bitch about it..."
"No need to be a bitch?" Clarissa laughed humorlessly. "You listen here, jackass. I'm your boss now. Or your coach, or whatever. You listen to me. You respect me. And you get bank. You will tolerate me being a bitch for however long it takes to do this and we're done with each other. You read me?"
"I read you?" Clyde smirked. "From where I'm sitting, looks like you need me more than I need you. I can just go back to practice tomorrow, work on my threes and get ready to go to Duke off my stats. You, though, ain't robbing any bank without me."
-Clarissa and Clyde
"Don't mess around, man," Dom warned lightly, "She ain't kidding,"
He looked at her, "But she is a bitch," he shirked his eyes at her, moving his leg to brush hers under the table.
"You know, you really should have picked a less public place to tall about this," said Zoe, walking up to them, "Or at least be quieter. I don't think the Sheriff heard you."
"You stop that," Clarissa warned Dom to knock it off, exhausted by this nonsense.
However, much more daunting nonsense had approached them.
Clarissa planted her face in her palm, their scheme already at risk.
Clyde nervously laughed. "Hey, babe. Shouldn't you be treating yourself to a..." He squinted at the menu. "...Oreo shake right now?"
-Clarissas and Clyde
"Don't call me 'Babe'," Zoe said, arms crossed, "But this is so much more interesting."
Clarissa looked the girl in the eye. "What is 'this' to you? Why don't you sit down and tell us just what you heard?"
"Oh, just enough that I could put all of you in jail, if I was so inclined," Zoe crossed her, a smirk on her face, "Fortunately for all of you, I'm not. On one condition."