Page 1 of Her True Blue
Jordana
The cold steelof the gun barrel presses painfully deep into my temple, shaking slightly in the hand of its owner.
The high-pitched ringing noise in my ears is deafening, nearly drowning out the loud demands being barked at me by the faceless man standing in front of me at the cash window.
The man’s posture is agitated and twitchy, his black ski-mask covering the majority of his face, leaving just his icy-dark eyes and the bearded lips visible, although I try to keep my head down and eyes from connecting with his. It’s what I learned through my bank manager training, that the less eye contact you make with the bank robber, the more likely you’ll appear less threatening and remain alive.
As I comply with his demands, my hands shake as I fumble with the packets of money, a nervous laugh nearly bubbled from the back of my throat at the irony of this whole situation. It was specifically for this reason that I left the city two months ago, landing in this quaint, touristy town of Milltown, Colorado. I wanted to escape the chaos of the city.
Among other things.
“Hurry up, bitch,” he spits, his saliva splattering across the counter between us. “Fill the bag and keep your hands where I can seem them, or I’ll shoot you in your fucking face.”
I nod, hurrying as fast as I can, having already triggered the silent alarm with my heel the minute he shoved the gun in my face. It was done out of instinct, bolstered by years of teller training on how to behave in these situations.
Surprisingly, even after five years in a large bank in Denver, this is the first time I’ve ever been held up. So, I keep my head down, fill the ratty bags he’s shoved at me and avoid eye contact, doing my best to slow it down just enough to give time for the authorities to arrive.
“I know you’re fucking stalling! Don’t make me shoot you.” And then with a leer in his tone that sends greasy jitters down my spine, he adds, “It’d be a shame to waste such a gorgeous piece of ass.”
The hostility in his tone and crude remark gives me pause, knowing things could grow exponentially worse if he feels he’s being double-crossed.
I quickly make my way through the drawer and then bend down to the additional shelf near my knees. I’ve been counting the minutes since setting off the alarm and am a little concerned that it’s taking the police so long to arrive. It’s going on one minute and forty-three seconds already and they are just down the street from here.
What is taking them so long?
The police station is right down Main Street and I see them patrolling all the time. In fact, I’ve seen the younger one regularly the last few weeks. He always smiles and waves, but has never spoken directly to me.
Maybe they’re out on patrol right now. In fact, my guess is they may be down at the town square this afternoon, working to prepare for tomorrow’s July Fourth celebration.
As I rise to my feet, my knees give out and I lose my balance, clipping the corner of the counter with my chin.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” I sputter, blood pouring out of the gash in my chin, raining over the money I’ve just pulled out of the extra drawer. “I fell.”
“Clumsy bitch. Hurry up. Put it all in there.” He waves the gun in my direction as I continue to stuff the rest of the money in the bag, holding it out to him as he grabs it hard, ripping it free from my hand.
The masked-man jerks his head side-to-side, checking out the front entrance and windows, seeing nothing that alerts him to police presence, and then waves the gun haphazardly in my direction.
“Get down on your hands and knees on the floor and put your head down on the ground.”
I whimper like a scolded kitten, slowly bending on one knee, and then the other, leaning over at the waist as if I’m in child’s pose. “Okay. I did what you asked. Please don’t shoot me.”
His laugh is grotesque and dangerous, laced with something more than sinister.
“You’re damn lucky I don’t have time, angel. Because I’d dick you hard and so fucking good in that position.”
And then, as if his face is right at my ear, not on the other side of the counter, he makes good on his threat.
“I know where you live, Jordana Bolton. And if you say anything, I will do exactly as I promise.”
Jordana
Tears run down my cheeks,faster than the waterfall at Creekside Bluffs. The minute the bank robber left, my adrenaline spiked and then crashed, sending me in a tailspin of anxiety and retching sobs.
I remain in the same hunched over position until I hear the sounds of movement, the front door opening, the bell clanging as the door swings open, and then an announcement that floods me with relief.
“This is the Milltown Police Department. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”
