Page 9 - Self Talk

“Kill the booze babe, we gotta be sober to pull this off,” Katherine scolded, planting a long sloppy kiss on his lips.
“Yeah, yeah, bitch, bitch,” Lefty replied with that sexy smile she couldn't resist.
He dropped the half-empty bottle and glass on the floor, hauled himself up, grabbed a black canvas bag and motioned toward the door. Out back, they climbed into a beat-up blue Chevy Impala that Lefty had snagged in a dope exchange the week before.
Stone-faced, Lefty held the bag tight to his chest and stared straight ahead as she drove across town. The route was imprinted on her brain. Three miles south on Highway 60, then west on Main Street 1.2 miles to South Street. Hang a left on South and then .6 miles to the bank.