Chris Well CRIME FICTION "Mind Your Own Business"

Don't look up. Just light your cigarette.

Try to keep your hands from trembling long enough to use the lighter.

Maybe Benny won't see you. Maybe Benny isn't looking for you. Maybe
he's here for his mom or his cousin or a friend. Maybe he's here for
the sandwiches.

Yeah. Right, genius. Benny came to Port Authority for the cuisine.

You -- you got nothin' to do with it. The way you screwed that job up.
The way you cheesed off Smart Tommy.

If only you had watched your back. If only you had noticed the Feds
tailing you. If only you hadn't led them to the warehouse, to the
stash, to the whole deal.

If only the boys didn't know it was you who led the Feds there. If only
that kid hadn't seen you. If only the kid hadn't squealed.

Is Benny still over there?

Don’t look up. Just light your cigarette.

If you stay in this spot long enough, maybe he’ll get tired of looking
and move on. It’s too late to catch this bus, the one on the ticket
expiring in your pocket. But you don’t dare move. You don’t dare walk.
You don’t dare run.

Don't look up. Just light your cigarette.

Play it cool. Don’t call attention to yourself.

Footsteps. Shoes. I know those shoes. “Been looking for you.” I know
that voice. “Maybe we oughtta go for a ride. Whad'ya think?”

You got nowhere to go. You got nowhere to run.

You feel the hand on your shoulder. “Well?”

Don't look up. Just light your cigarette.