First Impression

2019/10 15

“So Dixie? That’s a pretty…” Cleo twirled her hand around, pretending to think of the right word, “Confederate codename.”. She was curious to know if Dixie was aware of or oblivious to the implications behind it. She knew it might be unwise to start this conversation in the van on the way to a robbery, but if Dixie’s codename implied what she thought it might, then she’d probably never work with Dixie again. It’d be better to know if she should be watching her back now than be betrayed later.

Their crewmates on this job, a man called Savoy and a woman named Chartreuse, looked upon this disaster in the making silently. Savoy had a look of deep “oh no” on his face, but Chartreuse looked like she had a ringside seat to a sold-out fight.

Dixie raised an eyebrow at the question. “Are we really gonna talk about this now?” she asked.

“All right, well, my controller wanted to call me Plantation Slavery but it got cut off in the computer,” she said. Chartreuse snorted at this snide remark, but then stifled herself quickly when she saw no one else laughed. Dixie shrugged, spread her hands, and gave Cleo a what-do-you-expect-me-to-do-about-it look. Savoy’s eyes darted between Dixie and Cleo, waiting to see where this was going to go. No one said anything.

Dixie was aware of what her codename suggested, but thought it was rude to be asked about it by someone she’d only just met. Especially someone who knew Syndicate agents didn’t pick their own codenames. Obviously, the appropriate response to such a lapse in manners was to be equally rude back.

“So I saw on your profile that you’re kinda new to the game, Cleo. The phone psychic thing not workin’ out?”

To Dixie’s surprise, Cleo actually snickered. Dixie stood down, shifting into an affable smile.

“You know controllers ain’t got no imagination,” she said. Savoy and Chartreuse visibly relaxed at the situation’s defusing.

Cleo nodded. “Mine called me Cleo because I said I studied Egypt in college.”

“Yep. And even the most urban Texan accent sounds like ‘dumb hick’ anywhere else. Thus ‘Dixie’.”

—

“There must be, like, fifty pigs out there,” Savoy said.

“I hate when they just sit there like that,” Chartreuse said. “Like they plannin’ somethin’.”

“Surely they wouldn’t move in on us when we have ten hostages,” Cleo reasoned. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I think staying here any longer is getting dangerous,” Savoy said. “There’s more cops showing up by the second. Maybe we should leave right now?”

“Without the score? I don’t think so,” Cleo scoffed.

“Dixie’s takin’ her sweet-ass time,” Chartreuse noted, checking her watch. “But it ain’t even hot yet. Calm down, Savoy.”

“No, we need to leave,” Savoy said. “A fucking SWAT van just pulled up.”

“We’re not leaving yet. Dixie isn’t finished,” Cleo said.

“Fuck it, leave her then. We’re all gonna get pinched if we stay here any longer!” Savoy said. He started to walk to the side door, but Cleo grabbed his arm.

“No one is going anywhere yet,” Cleo barked. “If you go out there by yourself, they will catch or kill you. We stay together and we leave as a group like planned. Both of you wait here and guard the hostages while I see what’s keeping Dixie.”

Savoy didn’t appear completely convinced, but he was cowed enough to stay put. Chartreuse nodded and swept her gun across the array of zip-tied civilians on the floor to remind them to remain still.

Cleo made for the back office. When she turned the corner and looked in, she found a security guard had Dixie pinned to the floor, knee in her back and hand over her mouth to keep her from calling for help while he called his catch in over his walkie-talkie. The guard’s back was to the door, but Dixie saw Cleo and her eyes went wide in friendly recognition that lacked concern with her present predicament, as if she’d only been waiting for someone to come check on her.

“Yeah, I’ve subdued one of them. There’s three more in the front,” the guard said into his radio. He didn’t hear Cleo creep up behind him and raise her shotgun. She slammed the stock into the side of his head and he went limp and fell over.

“My hero!” Dixie said from the floor. “Did you get a psychic vision that I was in trouble?”

“No, we all thought you were taking too long.” Cleo smirked down at her. “The others wanted to leave without you.” Cleo helped Dixie to sit upright. She saw then that the guard had tied Dixie’s hands behind her back with his tie.

“How resourceful,” she commented.

“Yeah, he’s a real MacGuyver,” Dixie said. “You don’t understand though-”

“What? Is it not what it looks like?” Cleo guessed.

“No, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Dixie admitted. “But this fuckin’ guy, man! He hid behind that door and fuckin’ watched me crack this safe for like ten whole minutes. Had the drop on me that whole time and I never even knew he was there. He waited until I had the safe open and was pulling the gold out and then he grabbed me. Like he was lettin’ me build up charges or something.” Cleo moved to untie her, but Dixie pulled away.

“Whoa! Aren’t you gonna take a picture first?” she asked.

“Of you? Tied up like this?” Cleo asked to confirm. “Isn’t that really embarrassing for you?”

“Totally, but that’s part of the fun. Everybody does it. When you save someone from a shameful situation like this, you get to take a picture.”

“I’ve never done that,” Cleo argued.

“Well, today’s your lucky day too then! Come on, we ain’t got time to fuck around.”

Cleo was going to argue that taking photos during a robbery was fucking around, but then realized that it would be quicker to just take the damn picture. She pulled out her phone, opened the camera app, and said, “Say cheese.”

Dixie put on her most winning smile. Cleo couldn’t help but laugh.

“All right,” she said as her giggles trailed off. “Let me untie you now.” She put her phone back in her breast pocket and knelt down to untie Dixie’s wrists.

“What is the point of taking a picture like that?” Cleo asked. The knot was really tight so she reached up to the bank manager’s desk to grab a pen to work under the loop.

“Well, for one, they’re just funny,” Dixie explained. “Also, if you roll with someone on the regular, you can bring it up all the time and embarrass each other by showing them to people. But mostly, it’s nice to have a collection so that when it happens to youuuu,” Dixie frowned sheepishly over her shoulder for emphasis, “you can go back through them and be like, ‘Aww, well, it happens to everybody at least once.’” Truth told, it happened to Dixie quite a few times, but Cleo didn’t need to know that.

Cleo finally got the knot loose and the tie fell away. Dixie shook her arms out and rolled her shoulders.

“Where’s my gun?” she asked. The two of them glanced around.

“Here,” Cleo said, reaching under the desk to grab the pearl handle she saw peeking out. She handed the hefty revolver over.

“Thanks. And thanks for coming to get me.” Dixie raised her voice so her crewmates in the front could hear her. “Instead of leaving me to rot like some other chickenshit motherfuckers I know!”

“We still here, ain’t we?” Chartreuse called back. “You get that fuckin’ safe open yet?”

—

Thanks to some social engineering and grand theft auto on the part of their driver, they were now making a chill, unnoticed escape in the police SWAT van instead of the white van they arrived in.

“Ha! You got arrested? By an unarmed rent-a-cop?” Chartreuse cackled. “Did you get a picture?” she asked Cleo.

Dixie gave Cleo a didn’t-I-tell-ya look and Cleo snorted.

“Go on then,” Dixie said. “Show ’em.”

Cleo got out her phone and showed Chartreuse and Savoy the photo Dixie made her take. They laughed at Dixie’s silly face.

“Oh, I got toooons of those of Savoy,” Chartreuse said, getting her own phone out. Savoy blushed hard, but he chuckled along with the rest of the group as Chartreuse showed everyone her collection.

—