It's Your Move

I hesitated, then I nodded my compliance. 'Make your move,' I said. Michael pulled three comic books from a top rack, well aware that the two men were staring in his direction. I took four Sgt. Rock comics from a lower shelf, put them under my right arm and followed Michael further down the aisle. Behind me, one of the men lifted the counter top and began to walk toward us. He was tall and thin, thick dark hair sitting in clumps on the sides of his head and a large, circular scar resting below his left eye. He had a small iron pipe in one hand. Tommy and John came into the store, pushing and shoving as per the plan. The man behind the counter stared at them between puffs on a fresh cigarette. 'No trouble. No trouble in here,' he said, his voice thick with a Middle Eastern accent, his cigarette filter clenched between stained teeth. 'I don't want trouble,' John said to him, pushing Tommy against the newspaper trays. 'I want candy.' 'That's the last time you push me,' Tommy said, picking up a paper and throwing it at John. 'Stop it!' the man behind the counter shouted. 'Outside ...»