fandomweekly | [#036] Desperation (FAKE)

Theme Prompt: #036 – Caught Red-Handed
Title: Desperation
Fandom: FAKE
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Jimmy Dooley isn’t a bad man, but desperation can make anyone do things they know they shouldn’t.

Jimmy Dooley was a desperate man; he wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. Aside from the occasional bit of shoplifting when he was in his teens, because what kid didn’t do stuff like that, he’d never broken the law. Well, okay, there’d been that speeding ticket a few years back, but his wife had been in labour at the time and getting her to the hospital had been his top priority. He hadn’t even noticed how fast he’d been going; it had come as a shock when he’d received the fine in the post. He’d paid it of course, hadn’t bothered trying to contest it; if the camera said he’d been speeding then it must be true, and anyway, he could afford it. Things had been different for him back then, with a new family, and the future looking so full of promise.

Now he still had his family but no job because his business partner had been cooking the books and then skipped out one night, taking the petty cash and everything from the safe with him, leaving Jimmy up to his eyeballs in debt. He’d managed to pay off everything he’d owed, but he’d had to sell their house, the car, and anything else that might bring in a bit of cash to do so. They’d moved into a cheap apartment, survived on what little was left of their savings for the last few months, but they were going to be evicted if he couldn’t come up with the money for next month’s rent.

He would’ve taken any kind of work going, but there were so many others applying for every job going, most of the time he didn’t get an interview. In short, he was desperate enough to try anything.

His first thought had been to hit a liquor store; places like that had to be raking in the cash, but the place he chose, usually run by an elderly guy, had someone much bigger and fitter behind the counter tonight. The bar across the street with its red neon sign though…

It was close to closing time; a few men stumbled out onto the street, throwing good-natured insults back and forth as they headed off in different directions. Couldn’t be too many customers left, and any still inside would likely be too drunk to put up more than token resistance. Besides, Jimmy had a gun. It wasn’t real, it was an old movie prop his former business partner had picked up years ago and left behind when he’d absconded, but it looked convincing enough.

Jimmy pushed the door open and stepped inside; there was a guy behind the bar, wiping it down, a couple of others at a table, finishing their drinks, one more sweeping the floor… He hoped they hadn’t emptied the register yet.

“Sorry,” the bartender said as Jimmy approached, clutching the replica gun in his pocket. “Ya missed last call; we’re about to close up.”

Pulling the gun, Jimmy pointed it at the guy, hefting a nondescript sports bag onto the bar with his other hand. “Just open the register and put all the money in there and no one has to get hurt,” he growled.

The bartender frowned at the gun, then at Jimmy, putting his rag down and slowly shaking his head. “Dude, did you pick the wrong bar to hold up.”

There was an ominous clicking sound from behind Jimmy, followed by two more, and something cold and hard pressed into the back of his skull. He froze.

“Relax, guys,” the bartender said easily, taking Jimmy’s gun from his suddenly nerveless fingers. “Gun’s a replica; he couldn’t shoot anybody with this even if he wanted to.” He tossed it into his right hand, and before Jimmy could blink, he found himself staring down the barrel of a shiny revolver that looked a whole lot bigger than he would’ve expected. “Mine’s real enough though.”

“Oh God!” Jimmy gasped. “Please don’t kill me, I’ve got a wife and kid depending on me!” Were these people the mob?

The gun at the back of his head went away. “Nobody’s going to kill you,” a voice said.

“Wound ya maybe,” the bartender said. “Ya did just try to rob us. Seriously, dude, what were ya thinkin’, stickin’ up a bar full of cops?”

“It’s hardly full, Dee,” the man behind Jimmy said. “There’s only four of us. Five if you count Ted.”

“I don’t, he’s too busy bein’ passed out in the men’s room,” Dee said. “Too much celebratin’.”

“Cops?” Jimmy’s knees felt like water as relief warred with the knowledge that he was doomed anyway. He barely felt it as he was pushed down into a chair that had been placed behind him. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

“Depends.” The man in front of Jimmy had the darkest eyes he’d ever seen; they stared right into his soul. “You make a habit of armed robbery?”

“No, I swear, I’ve never done anything like this before! I just really needed the money, otherwise we’re gonna be evicted…” Without meaning to, the whole sorry story spilled out. He had to make the cops understand, make them see he wasn’t some hardened criminal, just a guy at the end of his rope, trying to provide for his family in a world that had turned against him.

“Easy enough to check,” the dark-eyed man said calmly. “Full name and date of birth?”

“James Patrick Dooley.” He reeled off his birth date.

The bartender pulled a laptop onto the bar, tapped at the keys. “Driver’s licence photo matches our would-be robber. Ex-restaurant owner, no criminal record listed, one fine for speedin’ three years back.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t been caught,” someone else said.

“Nah, this guy’s no hardened criminal.”

“We should arrest you, we caught you red-handed, but we’re letting you off with a warning.”

“We are?” The bartender raised an eyebrow.

“He has a kid. Besides, we need a cook. Looks like maybe we just found one.”

The End

[#036] Desperation (FAKE)

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