Read Online The Party by Christopher Pike - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christopher Pike
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But I’ll have to call my dad to tell him I’ve got a job.”
Michael pulled the phone from beneath the counter. “Sure, then take a break. There’s a lot to do here, but you don’t have to kill yourself.”
A half hour later Michael wondered if he’d lied to Nick about not killing himself. They got held up by a guy with a gun.
Nick was in the cooler, putting the beverages in from behind, and Michael had returned to the inventory report and the register when the masked man entered. He wore a dark nylon stocking over his head on top of a blue knitted cap and a pair of silver sunglasses. He had his gun drawn as he entered.
“Get your hands up!” he snapped, waving his revolver nervously. Michael carefully set down his note board and pen. His first reaction was not one of fear, but of pure amazement. It was only eight thirty. Who would be stupid enough to try to pull off a holdup now, when anybody could walk in at any second? The Eleven was open twentyfour hours a day, for god’s sake. But Michael didn’t consider suggesting to the guy he come back later.
“What can I do for you?” he asked calmly, slowly raising his hands. There was a button located beneath the counter that would sound an alarm at the local police station. Unfortunately, it was so situated that Michael would have to ask permission of any thief to use it. The clink of bottles continued to sound from behind the cooler. Nick must not know they had uninvited company.
“What’s that?” the fellow demanded. He wasn’t very good at this. Outside of his obvious anxiety, he had a rather squeaky voice. Shifting the gun from one hand to the other, he scratched under his nylon stocking.
“What was what?” Michael asked.
“Do you have someone back there?” He peered toward the cooler. It must have been hard to see through the disguise. “Hey, you back there! Get out here before I blow your buddy away!”
“Yeah, come out here, Nick. We’ve got a guest.”
Nick appeared a moment later, his arms hanging by his sides. “Mike?”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Michael said, trying to relax everybody concerned. “We’re all cool here, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, it’s cool,” the guy spat out, cocking his revolver. “Give me your goddamn money. No funny business.” He gestured toward Nick. “And you, get your hands up and come over here.”
Michael did not want to give him the money. In no way did he plan on risking his or Nick’s life to save it, but he did feel a responsibility to the owners of the store to get to the alarm button if at all possible. Opening the register, he rapidly began to toss all the change on the counter, like he was scared and didn’t know what he was doing. The masked man shook his gun angrily.
“Just the bills, man! Just the bills!”
“Yes, sir, the bills,” Michael answered breathlessly, pulling the drawer out still farther, past the point of no return. The drawer slipped from the register, the money pouring loudly onto the floor. Michael feigned shock. “Wow, I’m sorry.” He bent over. “Here, I’ll pick it up.”
“Man, you’re a peach.” The masked man chuckled, falling for Michael’s chicken act, leaning forward to watch him better. But it was already too late. Michael had hit the button the instant he had crouched down. At this very second, several patrol cars would be changing direction and moving toward them.
Michael didn’t know when he had hired Nick that Nick had never depended on a cop for anything in his life. He didn’t know about Nick’s incredible reflexes.
As Michael began to collect the money behind the counter, Nick lashed out with his foot at the gun, sending it ricocheting off the ceiling and into the cereal row. Startled, the masked man twisted around to retrieve it. Before he could get halfway there, Nick grabbed ahold of his arm and whipped him into a stack of beer bottles. The guy slid toward the freezer on a wave of broken glass, foam, and noise.
“Oh,
Michael pulled the phone from beneath the counter. “Sure, then take a break. There’s a lot to do here, but you don’t have to kill yourself.”
A half hour later Michael wondered if he’d lied to Nick about not killing himself. They got held up by a guy with a gun.
Nick was in the cooler, putting the beverages in from behind, and Michael had returned to the inventory report and the register when the masked man entered. He wore a dark nylon stocking over his head on top of a blue knitted cap and a pair of silver sunglasses. He had his gun drawn as he entered.
“Get your hands up!” he snapped, waving his revolver nervously. Michael carefully set down his note board and pen. His first reaction was not one of fear, but of pure amazement. It was only eight thirty. Who would be stupid enough to try to pull off a holdup now, when anybody could walk in at any second? The Eleven was open twentyfour hours a day, for god’s sake. But Michael didn’t consider suggesting to the guy he come back later.
“What can I do for you?” he asked calmly, slowly raising his hands. There was a button located beneath the counter that would sound an alarm at the local police station. Unfortunately, it was so situated that Michael would have to ask permission of any thief to use it. The clink of bottles continued to sound from behind the cooler. Nick must not know they had uninvited company.
“What’s that?” the fellow demanded. He wasn’t very good at this. Outside of his obvious anxiety, he had a rather squeaky voice. Shifting the gun from one hand to the other, he scratched under his nylon stocking.
“What was what?” Michael asked.
“Do you have someone back there?” He peered toward the cooler. It must have been hard to see through the disguise. “Hey, you back there! Get out here before I blow your buddy away!”
“Yeah, come out here, Nick. We’ve got a guest.”
Nick appeared a moment later, his arms hanging by his sides. “Mike?”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Michael said, trying to relax everybody concerned. “We’re all cool here, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, it’s cool,” the guy spat out, cocking his revolver. “Give me your goddamn money. No funny business.” He gestured toward Nick. “And you, get your hands up and come over here.”
Michael did not want to give him the money. In no way did he plan on risking his or Nick’s life to save it, but he did feel a responsibility to the owners of the store to get to the alarm button if at all possible. Opening the register, he rapidly began to toss all the change on the counter, like he was scared and didn’t know what he was doing. The masked man shook his gun angrily.
“Just the bills, man! Just the bills!”
“Yes, sir, the bills,” Michael answered breathlessly, pulling the drawer out still farther, past the point of no return. The drawer slipped from the register, the money pouring loudly onto the floor. Michael feigned shock. “Wow, I’m sorry.” He bent over. “Here, I’ll pick it up.”
“Man, you’re a peach.” The masked man chuckled, falling for Michael’s chicken act, leaning forward to watch him better. But it was already too late. Michael had hit the button the instant he had crouched down. At this very second, several patrol cars would be changing direction and moving toward them.
Michael didn’t know when he had hired Nick that Nick had never depended on a cop for anything in his life. He didn’t know about Nick’s incredible reflexes.
As Michael began to collect the money behind the counter, Nick lashed out with his foot at the gun, sending it ricocheting off the ceiling and into the cereal row. Startled, the masked man twisted around to retrieve it. Before he could get halfway there, Nick grabbed ahold of his arm and whipped him into a stack of beer bottles. The guy slid toward the freezer on a wave of broken glass, foam, and noise.
“Oh,
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