The Caddie glides to a stop at the curb several feet away and the rear passenger door swings open.

I walk over and stick my head inside. Paris is behind the wheel, not looking at me, Ed reclines at the far side of the backseat. It’s dark inside the car and looks even darker because of the sunglasses I’m wearing. The sunglasses, I now realize, that are just like the ones Ed and Paris sport. Ed is looking at me from over his glasses and below the brim of his cowboy hat. He pats the seat next to him. I look at the street around me and let a few more drops of rain fall on the back of my neck, then climb in and close the door. Paris puts the Caddie in drive and Ed shakes his head.

– Christ, you stink.

I crack the window to let some of the smell out and take off my headphones.

– Look at you. Man, Paris, take a look at the boy.

Paris turns his head to take a look at me.

– Looks like crap.

He turns back to the road.

– No, nah, man. He looks tough.Youlookin ’ tough, Hank.

– Thanks.

– Sure, sure. So, not to be rude, but where the fuck’s our money?

I take off the sunglasses.

– Drive over to Twelfth and Twenty-eighth.Chelsea Mini Storage.

– No shit?

– No shit.

Paris makes a turn at 23rd and takes us to Twelfth, then heads north. Ed is watching me and smiling.

– Really, man, I can’t get over it. Couple days ago, you were just some cat with the shit beat out of him, but now you got something. You look like a player now, son. Focused, determined. Look at me.

I look at him.

– No, man, look me in the eyes.

He takes off his sunglasses.

– That’s it, stare right in there.

I stare into his sleepy, bent eyes for a couple seconds, then fear crawls all over me and I look away. He slips his glasses back on.

– That’s all right, man. That is all right. You definitely got a little Eastwood going on in there.Without a doubt. Way to go.

I unzip the bag. Bud sticks his head up and forces the zipper the rest of the way open so he can slide out. He stretches and starts to groom. Ed frowns.

– A cat, huh?

– Yeah.

– That’s cool, I guess. Just don’t let it fuck up the upholstery.

The Caddie pulls to a stop and Paris turns off the engine.

– We’re here. It’s closed.

I look out the window and see the sign posted on the office door, which very clearly sets out the weekly hours for Chelsea Mini Storage. I take special note of the fact that they are open until 8:00P.M. every night of the week except for Sunday, when they close at 7:00P.M. I freak.

– Fuck! Shit! Piss! Tits! Motherfucker! Shit!

I pound my head against the back of the front seat and Bud hops from my lap down to the floor.

– Un-fucking-believable! One, just one fucking fucked-up fucking thing can’tfucking work. FUCK! Fuck me! Fucking God! I. I. I.

I wrap my arms around myself and rock back and forth.

– Why doesn’t anything work?

Ed puts a hand on my shoulder.

– Take it easy, man. No sweat. We got it covered.

I look up and he gives my shoulder a little squeeze. Paris reaches under the front seat and pulls out a double-barreled shotgun, sawed off to about twelve inches.

– Yeah, man, we got it covered.

The drizzle is starting to turn to real rain. I stand outside the office door with my headphones and sunglasses on and knock on the glass. It’s 7:37P.M. There’s one guy inside, trying to get things settled for the night so he can go home and watch the game. I knock again. The guy looks over at me and I wave. He shakes his head and goes back to work. I take out the key to Russ’s unit and tap on the glass with it. He looks up again and I wave the key at him. He points at the sign with the posted hours and then at the clock on the office wall, shakes his head and goes back to work. I start rapping on the glass with the key. The guy tries not to look up, then finally does and I wave for him to come over. He points at the clock, flips me off and goes back to work. I start knocking as hard as I can without breaking the glass. He looks at me, then turns and walks out of the office through a door at the back. I keep knocking. He comes back into the office followed by a big guy in a security guard uniform. The boss guy sits back at his desk and the security guard walks over to the door. I stop knocking and he yells through the locked door.

– We’re closed.

– Yeah, I know, but I have to get some stuff from my unit.

– We’re closed.

– Yeah, but I really need my stuff.

– We’re closed.

He turns his back to walk away and I start banging on the glass again. He turns back.

– Knock it off.

I bang harder.

– You best knock it off or you gonna get it.

Bang, bang, bang.

– OK. You want it, you got it.

He takes the keys from the clip on his belt, unlocks the door and pushes it open. As I move back, Paris steps from the shadows next to the door. He presses the barrels of the shotgun against the guard’s face and marches him right back into the office, followed by me and Ed. The boss guy sees us come in and stands up and puts his hands on his head. Ed locks the door and I take the bandanna he gave me back in the car out of my pocket and tie it around my face. It’s black, just like the ones worn by the brothersDuRanté.

I’m an outlaw.

Every now and then, if you’re lucky, you get to see someone capable of true excellence do what it is they are best at. As a boy I got to see Willie Mays play baseball. He never got credit for half of what he did because he made it look so easy. I don’t know how hard armed robbery is, but Ed and Paris make it look easy.

They work fast and I try to keep up. They force the guard and the boss out of the office and into the loading area, near the elevators. Paris keeps the shotgun where they can see it, while Ed does all the talking and occasionally points at them with a Colt that looks identical to the one Paris used to shoot rats at the dump.

– Who else is in the building?

The boss shakes his head.

– No one.

– Bullshit! Who else?

– No one.

Ed steps over and slaps him lightly on the cheek, like he’s a stubborn child.

– No one?

– They all split fast so they could watch the Mets game.

– Are the elevators still on?

– Yes.

– Are the alarms armed for the upper floors?

– No.

Ed reaches out and gives him that little loving slap again.

– I will kill you. I will kill you.

– Off, they’re all off.

Ed turns to me.

– Where to?

– Fourth floor.

Paris stays behind in case of trouble and the rest of us get on the elevator. Ed makes the guard and the boss stand at the far end of the elevator so he can cover them, while I operate the controls and take us to the fourth floor. I pull the doors open and Ed and I step out, followed by the others. I tell them the unit number and they lead the way.

At the door, Ed covers them and I open the lock and pull the door open. Ed takes a quick look inside.

– Cleanthat shit up and bring the bag out.

I go inside and stuff the cash Russ and I left scattered on the floor back into the hockey bag,then I zip it up and drag it into the hall. It’s heavy.Really heavy. Ed steps away from the door and waves the guys into the unit. He steps inside the unit, close to the boss.

– Where’s the alarm pad?

The boss nods.

– Right next to the office door in a locked case.

– Where’s the key?

– On the ring in my pocket. It’s the small silver round one.

Ed slips his hand in the boss’s pocket and pulls out the keys.

– How do we activate the alarm?

– Eight-four-five-one. Then press “cycle.” You have thirty seconds to leave and lock the door with the biggest key on the ring before the alarm goes off.