Page 5 of Just Beachy

“But you’re not wearing masks or anything,” A.J. points out. “How can you commit a robbery and then just leave witnesses alive?”

I am tempted to reveal myself just to smack A.J. up the side of his head.

“Not that we would tell anyone.” A.J.’s backpedaling now, but I’m not sure these hulks arethatstupid. “The guys at the tables are drunk. And, um, I have Alzheimer’s. Early onset. If you leave right now, I’ll be forgetting you and your faces as soon as you walk out the door.”

The hulks don’t move. They don’t look as if they’re even considering turning around and walking out without getting what they came for.

A.J.’s hands go up in surrender. For about five seconds I consider tiptoeing back to the ladies’ room, locking myself inside a stall, and phoning for help. Except my cell phone is sitting on the bar, and I’m afraid that even if I managed to wriggle out the ladies’ room window and run for help, it would all be over here before anyone arrived; I can’t leave A.J. and the others at the mercy of these no-necks.

Without anything remotely resembling a plan, I step out of the shadows and move toward the bar, channeling the wise-cracking-yet-fearless Cassie Everheart arriving at the scene of a crime.

Hulk One turns and recognizes me. I actually watch the realization dawn. It happens in slow motion, which is apparently the speed at which his brain functions. I’m not surprised.Murder 101is popular in penal institutions. Given these guys’ tats, shaved heads, and overall pallor, I’m guessing these two have watched more than a few episodes.

“Hey, it’s that cop who had to go into rehab after she got dumped!” Hulk One jabs his partner in the ribs. “So much for turning over a new leaf, huh?”

Loud guffaws follow. Even the regulars at the tables join in, evidently figuring they’re safer siding with the bad guys. The cocktail waitress is too busy trying to squeeze behind the bussing station to speak or laugh. Hulk Two leans in closer to get a better look at me. A blast of garlic and onion blows across my cheek.

“It’s Cassie, all right,” he says, shaking his head. “You had a sweet thing going before you screwed it all up, girl. You aren’t going to try to, like, apprehend us or anything are you?”

I look into his eyes, trying to see past the web of red blood vessels. The lights are on, but I’m not sure anybody’s home. “Damn straight I am!”

“And how’re you gonna do that?” Stupid as he appears, he’s evidently noticed that he and his friend have weapons and I do not.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I say coolly, despite the jellying of my knees. “But there are lots of different ways this could go down.”

Unfortunately, I can’t get my panicked brain to comeup with even one. I’m a damned fine actress. I can act brave, and I know a lot of cop lingo. But in real life, physical danger scares the you-know-what out of me. If I could have done it without completely humiliating myself, I would have already vaulted over the bar to cower behind A.J.

“Oh yeah?” Hulk One asks.

“Yeah.” I’m not above schoolyard taunts. Like I said, I know how tosayall the right things. And if a squad car pulled up right now, and the hulks agreed to get in, I could look good putting them there.

But I am not going to wrestle anyone to the ground, trick them into dropping their weapon, or dive behind the bar to dodge a spray of bullets. Cassie Everheart might know how to pull a miracle out of her ass just before the commercial break, but Sydney Ryan doesn’t.

“I haven’t decided exactly how I’m going to kick your butts yet,” I say. “But I will. And, of course, if I had a panic button anywhere, I’d be pushing it right now.” I raise my eyebrows at A.J. and open my eyes real wide in an attempt at silent communication.

His hand moves slightly beneath the bar, and I hope there actually is a panic button.

“Hey,” one of the hulks says, waving his gun in A.J.’s direction. “No sudden moves!”

I start praying then. I pray that A.J. has pushed a real button that will summon a whole fleet of real policemen. I pray that Kyra doesn’t arrive before the police. I pray that the dumbass duo will suddenly find religion, renounce their life of crime, and slink out the way they came. I praythat if we’re mowed down by a hail of bullets, nobody will be able to identify my body. Because I really don’t want my mother to know that I had to have a drink before I faced her. And I sure as hell don’t want the media getting hold of the news that Cassie—who just came out of rehab—died at a hole-in-the-wall beach bar without lifting a finger to defend herself.

While I’m praying, my life flashes before my eyes, all the good parts anyway, which doesn’t take anywhere near as long as you might expect. Then there’s a sound on the other side of the room, and I turn to see one of the regulars scrape back his chair and stand, grasping the top of the table to hold himself upright.

The intruders turn their attention to the swaying man, and all of a sudden A.J. is pulling a handgun out from under the bar. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, he hisses, “Here, Cassie!” Then with what can only be described as a shriek of fear, he flips the gun to me and drops down behind the bar.

“Shit!” I make a grab for the grip, unsure whether it’s more dangerous to catch it or let it hit the ground, where it might accidentally go off.

For a terrifying moment my hands wrap around the barrel. Then the gun is bouncing off the floor and skidding to the side. Having no idea what else to do, I throw myself on top of it and try this little forward roll I’ve done on the show that’s supposed to use your momentum to help you spring to your feet. Only my head slams into something that feels like a rock, and when I come to, I’m sprawled atthe hulks’ feet like a beached starfish. The gun is trapped between my shoulder blades and the floor.

I think I hear the faint sound of a siren in the distance, but it might just be wishful thinking. The hulks stare down at me in surprise. A.J. straightens up behind the bar. Whispering breaks out on the other side of the room. No one seems sure what to do next.

Hulk One’s shoulders start to shake. He leans over and slaps his tree-trunk thighs.

“Did you see that, Clint? She knocked herself out on my damned knee!”

The other side of the room erupts in laughter. Then Hulk Two’s shoulders start to heave. The two of them dissolve into belly laughs above me. They don’t even stop when I pull the gun out from behind my back and shove it, in the wobbliest possible way, up between Hulk One’s legs. I’ve never wanted to maim anyone so badly in my life.

“Drop your guns!” I shout in Cassie’s voice. “Or I’ll turn you into eunuchs!”

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