Then he turned his chair so he could better watch the passing parade of revelry at the bar. He lifted the heavy glass of beer and took a healthy drink. His was a mood one of contentment. Then he heard the voice.“Mind if I join you, Wilson?”He turned and looked up, surprised. A large man loomed above him, a man who looked enough like the late actor Burt Lancaster to have doubled for him in the movies. Wilson honestly wanted to be left alone, but it didn’t seem right to be inhospitable with someone on Christmas Eve. He was also curious as to who this guy was and how come he knew Wilson’s name. He gestured across the table towards the empty seat on the other side. The stranger sat down; even close up he looked like Lancaster, the younger Lancaster, the way he’d looked in the movie “Elmer Gantry”.“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask, do we know each other? You know my name, but I can’t place you.”“Yes, Wilson, we know each other, in a manner of speaking.”“Well, could. My hand was shaking badly as I tried to insert the pick alongside the tension wrench in the lock. My hands were sweating profusely. I dropped the pick and the sound of it clanking on the counter sounded like an atomic bomb. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I quickly surveyed the store and Ellie and the owner were nowhere in sight. I picked the pick up again and successfully inserted it inside the lock. I tried jiggling both the wrench and the pick, but nothing seemed to be happening. I was getting frustrated and I heard Ellie and the owner walking back towards the front of the shop. Fuck it. I yanked out the wrench and the pick and threw them back in my pocket. I picked up the damn register and raced as quietly as I could out the door. This thing is fucking heavy. I looked around the parking lot and a few cars passing by. There was no way for me to hide the fucking thing, so I sprinted back to the van, tossed the register in the back of the van and waited for Ellie to come back. I couldn't.
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