YNs—A Set of Steak Knives

1995

Sleek sliding doors didn’t interest Poland Vie. He looked at the deep cranberry Honda Odyssey with great percolating thoughts.

“It’s got doors that open, four of them. Like a sedan. Like a car,” salesman Rudolph Nasher pointed out to Vie. “Believe you can call me Rudolph like the reindeer. Nuts, right?”

“We can sign papers right now,” Vie announced. A slim little grin creeped onto Nasher’s face, knowing he would get a bonus for selling a brand new car. No, he had not had a streak in months. No, he had only sold used cars, infrequently at best. But with Vie, he would have a sale. The twinkle in his eye and the gin from his liquid lunch combined to show a man that looked like he was about a dollar.

“The third row neatly folds up and can be planted right into the floor. It’ll be great for this winter weather, too. The tires grip tightly.”

“That’s great. Where do I sign?” Vie asked.

“A man about his business. That’s enterprising. Mighty enterprising of you,” Nasher observed. “I’ll have the forms drawn up. Uh, Susie?”

“Yes, Mr. Vie?” Susie responded with as little disdain as possible before it could be concluded that she was tired of her job as Nasher’s secretary.

“Make sure you get Mr. Vie here some hot cocoa and cookies? What do you want? We’ve got assorted and assorted! I say that only because it’s the truth! But seriously you have a seat here and I’ll draw up those papers.”

Vie smirked as Susie brought him a tray of assorted Christmas cookies. He waved his hand but did take the hot cocoa. “Thank you,” Vie acknowledged Susie with a smile.

“I just got a fax. I got a fax saying you’re qualified for a set of steak knives with the purchase of your vehicle. How’s that sound?” Nasher announced as he walked in the tiny office. The wood paneling and the deep green colored rug cocooned the scent of musk cologne and something metallic. Vie almost gasped at the smell of it. He sipped some of the cocoa and nodded his head in agreement.

“Sounds good. Where do I sign?”

“That’s the hardcharger we like to see! Susie, give him another cup of cocoa please, Darling.” He was about fifty-six. Susie was twenty-nine and Vie was nineteen.

“I took a look at your driver’s licence. Kinda young to be getting a minivan your age. You’ve got a wife and children, if I may ask?”

“No. It’s for work. Catering.”

“Oh, that’s a fine profession. Top of the line. You’ve got enough gumption to walk in here at your age and get a brand new van. Your future wife will be happy with you. I’d say! What bravada to her when the day comes. Oops! I shouldn’t advertise for competing brands!” Nasher exclaimed, his overwhelming enthusiasm at starting another streak inebriated him.

“We can work out financing if you––”

After he supplied the documents, Vie unzipped a bag and took out twenty five thousand dollars in cash.

“Well, the catering business has been treating you right. Wow!” Nasher’s eyes widened. He was like a jack in the box the way his smile remained plastered on his face.

“I do well,” Vie retorted with a smile.

“Okay, well, we’ll uh, we can put this in the safe until the Brink’s man gets here on Wednesday. That’s about it. You bought it outright. It’s yours!”

Vie took the keys and finished the rest of his cocoa. “Thanks, again.”

“Oh, don’t forget your set of steak knives,” Nasher handed him the box of fresh utensils.

“And thank you. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas and I know you’re going to have a happy New Year!” Nasher replied. He waved vigorously, Susie smacked her gum and limped a hand in Vie’s direction.

The feeling of the weeks before Christmas felt like a dream. This remained a trying time for Vie and his compatriots. They would have to defeat the winter wind with his wits. Clientele often froze as they went from station to station seeking the taste of the ready rock. Vie drove the van like a captain on the sea. He enjoyed the feeling of the smoothness that the brand new tires traversed over the bitter pavement. The cold had locked in and it seemed to never break. He, however, ensured he and his team would be able to take as much money from people. He told most of the truth. His crew fronted a catering business but actually operated totally differently. When Vie pulled up to the house in Southbridge, Delaware, two of his associates hopped out with The North Face parkas and Timberland boots. Yneek Grimble, 18, walked up to the vehicle. Connor Cian, 19 followed.

“Goddamnit, man. This is going to be perfect!” Grimble announced, clasping his hand together.

Vie removed himself from the vehicle and dapped the other two men. Cian opened the passenger door. “What’s this?”

“That came with the van. We should be selling something and taking something in no time.”

Black balaclavas, wristwatches, ditty bags, duct tape, hammers, fireworks, a torch, black gloves, and Glock 19 weapons laid out on a table. Vie, Grimble and Cian donned the clothing articles and tucked the firearms in their waists. They all wore black Air Force One sneakers and black jeans and hoodies.

At the ghetto Wal-Mart in New Castle, Delaware, the three youngsters all fell upon the store under the cover of night. Cian packed a cart full of fireworks and combustibles. He set the items on fire and pushed it into the menswear section. With the fire blazing through the clothes, this created a distraction.

Like a relay race, Grimble and Vie smashed the glass of the jewelry counter. The sound of the glass shattering was akin to the sound of bodies splashing in water, the tinkling being carried with the swoosh of their own bodies away to the exits. and made off with the loot. Cian joined up with them and hopped in the Odyssey.

“Con’ you’ve got the jewels right?” Vie said behind the wheel of the van. “‘Neek’?”

“Yes––we’ve got it all,” he then checked around and noticed he had a hole in his bag. “Mine fell through, though,” he admitted.

“Goddamnit! This is what I’m talking about. Why did you go in there with a hole in the bag?”

“It didn’t have a hole in it when I started. The weight of it just broke through the bag. I’m sorry,” Grimble lowered his head.

“This ain’t time to be saying sorry. This is time to just take what we’ve got and then divvy it up,” Vie announced, venom and anger growing in his voice even though he did not yell anymore.

The three youngsters returned to Wilmington.

Vie cleared the table and dumped out the jewels. The fresh new pieces glittered under the light like white teeth. The haul consisted of silver and gold with a few diamond pieces.

“Look, they don’t have any fingerprints on the jewels that were lost,” Cian declared. “We don’t have to worry about it. It’ll just be a loss. Once we take these over to the shop, Ledbetter will be more than pleased to take these pieces in for himself,” Cian continued.

“He’s going to know they’re hot, but what we can say is that they’re worth more out of the cases than anywhere else. Again my fault,” Grimble apologized.

“You’re both wrong. And again, we accept your apology. Check the goddamn bag next time, it probably started to shred before you even started smashing the cases. Anyway, we’re not taking these to Ledbetter. We’re going to take these to Hampton. He’s going to give us a better price, anyway. We’re looking at least fifteen thousand for all of this,” Vie explained.

“Right,” Grimble offered.

“Ain’t no right. It’s what it is supposed to be. They’re going to be looking for us but won’t find us. We went outside of the city limits and they’re going to be looking for a totally different set of people that broke up the place. We go down to Hampton and he gives us five stacks a piece. Two and half for you, Yneek.”

“Of course.” They found a duffle bag to place the remaining half of the sparkling metal and stones.

They resumed their motions into the night as they headed over to Wilmington’s East Side. Hampton looked at the youngsters. He fought in two wars, Korea and Vietnam and never had a scratch. Yes, Bill Hampton at fifty-eight years old could still haggle with the best of them. The three looters looked at him with a clear-eyed view. He stood at about five feet nine inches but he stood straight up which made him appear taller.

“Boys, what do you have to say about the weather tonight? It’s alright, no?”

He remarked on the gentle rustle of the trees and the coldness that crept in like death for an elderly woman drawing her final breath.

“Let’s get in this house and see what we can make of the wares you brought me.”

A table in the dining room had already been cleared off to accommodate the stolen jewelry. Cian and Grimble repeated the display ritual once more. Hampton’s eyes became lamps.

“I’d say you had a good haul. It’s not a perfect score, but it should do something,” Hampton sighed.

“What are we looking at, Bill?” Vie asked finally.

“I’ll take all of this and give it to Mr. Charlie for twenty grand.”

The youngsters' eyes turned to lamps, too. Except for Vie. He figured twenty five thousand but had originally said ten thousand less for moments just like this.

“Alright,” Cian voiced. “When can we get our money?”

“You can get your cash with a few spins of this here safe combination.”

All three thieves looked at each other. Cian and Grimble rubbed their hands. Vie stood resolute. After the last combination clicked, Hampton opened the safe and took out fresh stacks of money. He divided it up and gave each of them their cut. Vie looked at Grimble and took away his cut.

“Why’d you go and do that?” Hampton asked, his face a shattered dinner plate.

“We can explain it further down the road, as for now, thank you for the business that we have just transacted,” Vie related.

“I have no problem. I can get a cool amount of cash for this. All you had to do was wrestle a loli from a babe.”

“We appreciate it,” Vie replied and they walked towards the door.

Once they got back in the Odyssey, they knew they had to keep the money a secret and to place it in the vehicle. The rear had plenty of space with the stow away backseat. With the thousands of dollars stashed away in the vehicle, they would be closer to becoming street legends and prevent themselves from starving for the rest of the winter.

Their entry into the house had been quiet and soft. When they turned on the lights, there were three men, Adrian Tetley, Coleman Cruthers, and Farley Singer, waiting for them at their table.

“We heard there was a dark cranberry Odyssey that just fled from a robbery at the Ghetto Wal-Mart. We figured it would be the three numbskulls....Where're the jewels?” Tetley asked a matter of factly.

“That’s none of your goddamn business. Tetley pulled out a 1911 and shot at Grimbley’s kneecap. The young man writhed in pain, but his quick action in reaching for his Glock 19 dispatched Cruthers and Singer. Cian crouched next to his compatriot. He stemmed the blood with his own shirt. Grimble turned on his back and continued to struggle through the sharp pinches of agony.

Tetley, who had been sitting with his men standing behind him, rose up slowly with his eyes little slits. Vie extended his Glock.

“What we do now is take the money you and your dead friends have, and we’ll just add this to our own haul. ‘Tis a Merry Christmas, no?”

Vie pulled his trigger and the shot traveled straight through Tetley’s skull. He replaced his gun to his waist and checked on Grimble. He grinned.

“You just earned back your share of the pot. Great aim.”

“My dad’s a Marin… he showed me how to shoot on sight.”

“I think I remember you saying that. Anyway, you got your portion with a set of steak knives.”

“Aaah! Ssss!” he managed through the twinges. ‘Thanks, Poland.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, all we have to do is get you over there to Dr. Bainsworth on Ninth Street and call up Rodrigo to clean up this mess. What a Christmas this will be, right?”