Bandits (1987) by Elmore Leonard Page A

He understands, but tell him anyway. Put it in your own words.
    She said, Jack, her voice low, look at me. He has a gun. The fingers of her right hand slipped inside her jacket at the waist. Right here.
    The man was talking again and she listened, still looking at Jack. He wants to know why we ' re being difficult. Translating as the face with the sunglasses spoke through the window. He says it will only take a minute. He wants you to turn off the motor and get out. With the key. She listened again and then said, If you try to drive off someone will be dead in this coach. If there isn ' t someone already.
    He saw her eyes and then she was turning away, saying something back to him now in rapid Spanish, fluent, an edge to her tone. The window framed the face with the sunglasses and the BIG SPRING TIRE SPECIAL behind him, lettered on the window of the empty station with the light on inside and the decals on the door.
    Jack said, Don ' t get him mad, okay? He took the key from the ignition and she turned back to him as he opened the door. But keep talking. He got out, pushed the lock button down and closed the door.
    The farm boys across the street were uncapping beers in the sunlight, still watching, a boy turning his head to remark, speculate, force a laugh, fool with the bill of his tractor cap. Trying to liven up a Sunday afternoon in St. Gabriel. Jack had known some farm boys at Angola, one who ' d killed a man with a beer bottle, drunk.
    He ' d known guys like the face with the sunglasses and the Creole-looking guy standing in front of the hearse, the guy turning to face him as he came around. They ' d stand like that in the Big Yard looking for some new guy to turn out, give him that sleepy mean look and not move out of the way. The dead-eyed stare saying, Walk around me, man. But knowing if you did you might as well hand over your balls, they weren ' t yours anymore. He would walk around this one; there was nothing to prove. But you didn ' t have to walk around any of them in the yard if, one, you walked over them or, two, you used your head. If you knew before they tried to turn you out you were smarter than they were, smarter than at least 95 percent of the entire prison population . . .
    Smarter than these two assholes giving him that old familiar look. Jesus, he hoped so, if he had learned anything of value in those thirty-five months. A good rule was, whenever you were with people whose intentions were in doubt, the first thing you did was look for a way out or something to hit them with.
    He nodded and smiled at the Creole-looking guy with the nappy hair as he walked past him. How you doing, partner? And said to the face with the sunglasses, the guy stepping away from the hearse, This never happened to me before. Long as I ' ve been in the funeral business. Jack kept moving toward the station.
    The guy said, Hey, where you going? Coming after him now, the Creole-looking guy closing in, too.
    Jack stopped at the door and half turned. I have to get something.
    The face with the sunglasses, close to him, said, No, you can ' t go in there. Look. He reached past Jack and tried to turn the knob on the glass, wood-framed door. See? Is locked. You can ' t go in there.
    Jack said, Yeah, I guess you ' re right. He looked around, frowning, and said, Shit. Now what am I gonna do? I have to go to the toilet and the key ' s inside there. See, it ' s on the desk. Has a hunk a board wired to it so nobody ' ll steal it. Toilet keys being as valuable as they are.
    The face with the sunglasses said, Go someplace else. Tha ' s no problem for you.
    They stood close to each other. Jack said in a quiet voice, I think we both have a problem. You want my car key and I want the key to the toilet. We ' re a couple of desperate characters, aren ' t we? Desperadoes. You know what I ' m saying to you? The face with the sunglasses staring at him, not answering. Only I ' m more desperate than you are, partner. You don ' t believe it I ' ll show