From No Score

Chapter 1

Jamaica Plain, Boston

Summer, 2015

Chapter one

It was Saturday morning, heist day, and nothing was falling into place.

First, the client for the legit moving gig had changed the time, which screwed up the truck rental, and cut into the timing of the heist. Now, the window between the score and the job was so tight, a red light or two might botch the whole thing. Timing was everything.

After dealing with the rental agent over the changed reservation, Drew Hatchett slumped back to his old Buick Regal. He opened the heavy door, practically falling into the broken seat. When he turned the key, nothing happened. Not even the click-click-click of the starter. He pulled out the key and put it back in, pumping on the gas. Dead.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered. He looked at his watch: just past ten. They needed to be downtown in an hour and a half or the whole thing was off. It would take more than half an hour to walk home. He pulled out his phone. “Jared!” he screamed when his partner answered. “I was reserving the truck and my car died. Come get me!”

“Today of all days your car doesn’t even work? Christ. Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

In Jared’s Chevy, Drew tried to calm himself by running through the plan once more.

“And you’re sure of the timing and route?” Jared asked.

“You think I’m some moron? Just be there at the right time, and it’ll be fine.”

They pulled up to Drew’s house. “I don’t know, man. We might be forcing it.”

“Oh, for chrissakes, enough. I’ll see you in Copley Square in an hour.”

Jared drove off and Drew lingered on the sidewalk. As long as he waited out here, the world was still of promise. Once he crossed over into reality, facing the three women that made up his world, he would have to confront his every failure. He sighed. There was nothing to be done. He mounted the crooked steps and pushed through the door.

For once, his mother wasn’t at the kitchen table. Instead, Maria sat there with a pile of papers spread around her in a fan.

“Good, you’re here,” she said. “We gotta make a decision on Molly’s school. I still don’t see why she can’t skip the line at Strong Minds. You work there, for God’s sake.”

He poured himself a glass of water from the sink. “How many times do I have to tell you, they don’t want any conflict of interest. No staff can have their kids at the school.”

She pushed a stack of papers towards him. On top was a crayon drawing of a rainbow floating on cotton ball clouds. “She made you this. The rest are school forms you need to fill out.”

He took the rainbow and folded it into his pocket. “I can’t right now. I got a gig. Besides, it’s July. That’s no time to be thinking about school.”

“You’re right.” She brandished a handful of pages. “We should have done this in March. “This is the clean up round. It’s really for new residents.”

Drew’s eyes flicked to the clock. “Well, I still can’t do it now.”

She sighed. “Don’t you care about your daughter’s education?”

He was going to be late for his own heist. A one-time shot. He barely understood her words.

“Of course I care,” he said defiantly. “But one school is pretty much like another, and she’s going to learn to read and add and subtract wherever she goes. I’ve got to look at the bigger picture, like what’s she going to eat, and where she’s going to live, and that’s why I have to leave right now. So you handle that one little bit, and I’ll worry about the rest.”

He didn’t feel as confident as he sounded, but it did the trick. Maria scowled, but said nothing and bent back to the forms.

“By the way, where is the girly?” he suddenly thought to ask.

“Your mother took her for a walk to the convenience store. She needed to buy cereal, smokes, and lottery tickets. She’ll probably get Molly a big fucking candy bar that will give her diabetes, but go on to work and I’ll worry about the little stuff.”

Suddenly guilty, he put the glass down. “Maria, I’m—”

“Go!”

Upstairs, he changed into jeans and a worn but clean shirt. He tucked a pair of gloves in his back pocket, placed his cell phone on the dresser, and pulled a baseball cap low over his face. He left by the front door, avoiding Maria altogether. For good measure, he took the long way around the block and down the hill so he wouldn’t accidentally meet his mother and Molly, too. When he got to the Forest Hills subway station, he used cash to buy a new Charlie ticket and slid it in at the turnstiles. The ride to Mass Ave. took fifteen minutes, and he never saw Jared or their younger partner Ramon.

He emerged into the daylight outside of Symphony Hall and passed the Christian Science Center to mix with the tourists shopping at the ritzy boutiques on Newbury Street. He walked among them, but knew he wasn’t one of them. No one here had to worry about broken down cars, or where their kids were going to school. From the outfits most of these women were wearing—tailored blouses, expensive boots—he guessed their parent conferences were at tony private schools where they only had to worry if little Dylan and Hunter were on track for the Ivies—in fucking third grade.

Finally, he arrived at Dartmouth Street. A block over, the public library steps were littered with picnickers, and the John Hancock tower rose into the clear blue sky. But today was about shadows, and he ducked into the filthy alley that sliced the block between Newbury and Boylston. It sickened him to be an entrepreneur with an excellent business plan, reduced to skulking among garbage and rats.

He found Jared and Ramon lurking behind a dumpster. They were all dressed in similar work clothes, the bills of their ball caps obscuring faces. Ramon was talking excitedly.

“I’m telling you, this dude just showed up in this motherfucking race car, and blew the shit out of Scooter’s pony like it was a Model T.”

“Like rich bastards take their cars to street races,” Jared told him.

“He said he wanted to get back to his roots.”

“And you drove in this car yourself,” Jared said flatly.

“And he gave me a grand. Put that roll right in my hand,” Ramon said proudly.

“Just like that. Boy, you sure you’re not carrying a grand of Monopoly money?”

That shut up Ramon a minute, and then Drew was there and talking.

“We got about ten minutes. Ramon, sit on that wall across the street. When you see the truck turn from Newbury, stand up. If we’re lucky, they’ll get caught at the light. If not, traffic’s slow enough that we can step in front. Either way, we do this quick, before anyone on the street knows what’s going on. I don’t want anyone screaming or some jerk-off taking a picture with his iPhone, right?”

They broke, and Ramon sauntered across the street. He looked like some boyfriend who refused to go into another store. Drew stayed in the shadows with Jared. They watched Ramon as his head swayed to the beat in his earbuds.

“I’m not sure about that boy,” Jared said. “Doesn’t have much sense.”

“He’s got plenty. Keep your eye on him.”

“Says he rode in an actual race car on American Legion Highway last week.”

“Just exaggerating,” Drew said. “Or are you worried about him getting into cars with strangers?”

“Fuck off,” Jared said. “But if he doesn’t wise up, he’s going to be more of a liability than a help. I’m not saying he shouldn’t be on the moving crew. But shit like this? I don’t think he’s cut out for it.”

“Don’t worry,” Drew said. “This works out, everything else will be legit. I’ll buy a truck with my share, and we take three times as many jobs without the rental overhead.”

Jared shrugged. “You’re the boss.” He put on his gloves, and Drew did, too.

“You better believe it. Look, he stood up.”

A flush of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Ramon was walking towards the curb, and Drew and Jared strode out of the alley. The truck was still turning the corner, the unpronounceable name of the store blazoned in scarlet over the cab. Drew glanced to his right and saw that the light was already red. He couldn’t suppress his glee. “This is going to be great!” he giggled. They pulled ski masks over their faces and put their ball caps on over them.

Drew crossed in front of the truck, ignoring Ramon, who strolled away into the crowd. Simultaneously, he and Jared opened the truck doors and stepped inside, squeezing the two surprised movers into the middle. Open box cutters encouraged them to slide over quickly. There was hardly any room, but Drew took the wheel and moved along with the traffic anyhow, while Jared explained the situation.

“See, we don’t want to hurt you. Don’t really want to put you too far behind schedule, either. Maybe a half hour or so, and you can make that up on your break, right?” He picked up the clipboard with the jobs list. “And I’m right. Next stop is up on Tremont Street. Exactly where we’re going. So my buddy is going to drive us there, and we’ll even help you carry that bedroom set up. Nice, aren’t we? All you have to do is keep your mother-lovin’ mouths shut for an hour or so, ’kay?”

The movers nodded their heads. Drew noticed they were barely older than Ramon, and scared as shit. Their faces were pale as paper, and he felt the trembling of the one pressed against him. Jared politely asked for their cellphones, and reluctantly they handed them over.The truck rolled smoothly through the summer traffic, and passed an open-top double-decker bus filled with tourists.

Drew turned left onto Stuart, heading past the Park Plaza Hotel. Along the way, Jared got them to give their names. The one next to him was Michael, and the usurped driver, Steve.

A couple of blocks later, Drew was turning left again, into Chinatown. He turned to the boy sitting next to him. “This used to be the Combat Zone. Know that? My father spent a lot of time in that theatre. Showed porno 24-7, and he told me about the room in back with live dancers. Now all that shit’s on the internet, and you can jerk off in the comfort of your own bedroom. Kids have it too easy nowadays.”

Michael laughed a little at this, but his friend shoved him.

“No rough stuff, boys,” Jared said. “We’re almost done. Just four guys on their normal delivery route, right? Keep tight and quiet.” Then he said to Drew, “Turn in here.”

The truck dipped down a ramp and stopped in front of a heavy grate. The two movers shared looks like they were about to shit their pants. Drew rolled down the window. “We need a pass code. Make your call,” he told Steve.

Jared dialed the number from the clipboard into one of the confiscated phones and held it to Steve’s ear. With a shaking voice, the kid said, “Delivery to the penthouse suite.” It came out as all one word. “We…we need the pass codes.”

He repeated it, and Drew punched it into the keyboard that stood on the curb. A second later, the garage door rumbled up. The truck moved forward, and the door closed behind them. Drew followed the signs to the freight elevator. He knew after that Jared would be toying with a shut box cutter in his lap in such a way that neither boy would want to challenge him.

There was a raised dock by the elevator, and Drew backed up to it. He noted the security cameras: one aimed at the door, another at the elevator. Jared was talking quickly but calmly, telling Michael and Steve, “The four of us are all going up together. We’ll load the dollies and bring the shit up, just like you’re supposed to. Only difference, we’re bringing some stuff back. Nothing for you to worry about. No one’s going to blame you. Just keep doing like you’re doing.”

The four men all climbed out and set to work. They pulled two carts with removable handles and a hand truck off hooks set in the wall of the truck. “This would have taken you at least three trips,” Drew said in a friendly tone. “Now we’ll help you do it in one.”

They loaded up: a long, sleek dresser with a wave-shaped mirror that slid into its top, a bed made with a kind of wood that seemed to glow, a pair of curved bedside tables. “Christ,” Drew said, looking at the work order. “This set cost sixty grand. They could have gotten pretty much the same thing at Jordan’s for less than ten. And I suppose you have to assemble it, too?”

Steve said, “Yeah. And haul away the old set.”

“Perfect,” said Drew. “You do your job, we’ll do ours, and no one loses.”

It was a tight fit on the elevator, but they got it all in. On his own cart, Drew balanced the mattress and headboard, along with the mirror. He told Steve to punch the code. The PH button lit automatically, and the doors slid shut.

“How’d you know we were gonna be here anyhow?” Michael asked in a tentative voice.

“Best not ask,” Jared told him. They rode the rest of the way up in silence.

The doors opened into a utilitarian hallway. Drew imagined the foyer for guests would be far more opulent. Back door for the hired help, the story of his life.

He gave the clipboard to Steve. “You’re up. Ring the bell.”

At first, the kid looked like he was going to refuse, but a worried glance from his partner got him moving. He bit his lip, then put his finger to the doorbell. A few seconds later, it swung open.

Johnny the barber stood there, and for all Michael and Steve knew, he was a stranger to them all, just a guy dressed in black. “It’s about time, I been waiting for you for like an hour,” he said. Then he saw the two masked men and added, “What is this, Halloween?” It was a good act, Drew thought, considering Johnny had brought the idea to Drew in the first place.

Johnny moved to close the door, but Drew stepped forward and winked. Then he clocked him with a punch to the jaw. Johnny hit the wall and slid to the floor.

“What’d you do that for?” Steve whined. Jared pushed him into the apartment, and Drew did the same to Michael, getting all of the furniture inside and closing the door.