The Getaway

Yaro floors the gas peddle, tires squealing, the bank alarm blaring, and the police sirens in hot pursuit. I didn’t know if it was the amount of GTA he played or from practice, but Yaro skids around corners like a pro and dodges through traffic like a mouse escaping a cat. We need Shim to be in position before the cops call in the choppers or game over. The two-way radio crackles to life, “ETA five minutes.”

We have just enough time as Yaro runs a red light, taking a sharp turn right onto the ramp leading to the highway. My heart dives and lands in the vicinity of my ass. Once this is over, I don’t know if I should clap Yaro on the shoulders for a job well done or beat the shit out of him. Shim’s car carrier is dead ahead, going way too fast for my liking, but Yaro has no trouble matching his speed. As we load up, the faint thumping of helicopter blades sounds in the distance. We duck as the cops pass. We breathe a sigh of relief; we’re home free. Until, “Step out of the vehicle.”

Smiling, Yaro revs the engine.