Bobby T. is on his second Jack and Coke at the bar while outside the rain continues falling in torrents. Free Bird plays on the jukebox but only a handful of the people inside pay attention. None of them worry Bobby; at least none will once Eddie Vega shows up. But Eddie is already fifteen minutes late. Typical, Bobby thinks. Waiting makes him tense, although the twenty-two tucked against the small of his back gives him the kind of cool that takes the edge off that nervousness.
It's supposed to be easy – in and out in less than ten minutes if nobody gets stupid. Bobby just has to watch the door and wave the gun enough to keep everyone glued to their seats while Eddie hits each cash register. Nothing to it. Bobby knows he's about more than an easy score, and he could empty the clip inside the bar if he had to - just to make that point. Might be the only thing that gets him respect.
It's either the Jack or the twenty-two that give him that confidence. He's not sure which it is.
All he knows is that Eddie's late and he's stuck waiting at the bar