"So you're telling me that in order to wire a new car, you just have to cross the two red wires? That sounds a little too simple. Like cars were meant to be stolen or somethin'."
"Meant to be driven, you mean. It's not that they can be made to run without keys, my friend. It's that you must remember they're designed to."
"I dunno. It sounds off center to me. That they make cars so you can steal them? Ain't good buisness." Dominique peered through the grimy windshield of their van, trying to spot their target across the darkened parking lot. Squinting at the dim circles the streetlamps cast down, he was silent a moment before leaning back onto the creaking leather seats. "I mean you don't build somethin' just so someone can take it without paying."
"Quite to the contrary- If you make anything, you make an excess, expecting to lose out on a few. That's the way it's always been." Aaron's eyes were all that was visable in the cab of their van, the rest of him shadowed away in blackness. He'd been the one who planned the entire operation, dressed them appropriately and picked their mark. He was the one without convictions, or excitement.
"That makes no sense. I mean hell, I could see where if you were talking 'bout packing up apples during the apple season before birds get em' but-"
"Nique," Aaron had a very quiet voice, innocent and drifting. It was the voice of the kid in the back of your history class, who never said anything but you heard mutter to himself on the playground. It wasn't the voice of a man you'd hear plotting to steal cars. "What is the entire purpose of a car? What does it do?"
"It drives-"
"That's right. It's made to drive. That's why they're made to steal." A black gloved hand caressed the steering wheel of the van, a hiss of cotton on faux leather. The cab illuminated a moment, the overpass ahead rattling as a semi rolled over its potholes. In that split second, Dominique had a chance to see his companion's face. Beneith the vocal calm, Aaron's expression was something completely different. The semi continued to roll past, its joints clattering in the otherwise silent night. Dominique began to say something, but Aaron's soft voice cut him off, stole the breath from his throat. "I knew a girl once."
"Yeah, so did I." Dominique laughed at his own slight sarcasm, but Aaron didn't seem to even have heard him.
"We had only been friends, see, because her boyfriend at the time was already dangerously jelous of her. It happens all the time, you know that? Someone gets what they want, and become crazy trying to keep it from being taken away. So all we were to eachother was friends."
"That sucks. I knew this chick once, man, she was ready to go any place at any time-"
Aaron wasn't in the cab anymore. He was wandering through the hallways of memory. "One time when she was running through her kitchen, she slipped on the lenolium and fell on a knife."
"On a knife? Jesus, what are the chances?"
There was quiet for a few more moments in the car, then Aaron's side door opened with a hollow clunking sound and the driver climbed out. On street level with the van, he was short. Dominique watched him through the cab. The light from the streetlamps lit up Aaron's face like a distant moon, waxy and unreal. "She lived."
"That's lucky. How many stitches did she have to get, anyway? And what the hell does this have to do with cars?" Dominique opened his door and slid off the seat into the parking lot, his sneakers crackling on the gritty asphault. With a squeal and a thumping sound, the van rocked on its axels as he slammed his door shut.
Aaron stood still, his hand on the frame of the door. "She didn't need any stitches. A few days before I'd given her a bracelet to wear for her birthday, and when she fell, her wrist with the bracelet caught the knife and kept it from going into her. It was in exactly the right spot."
"Almost like you saved her life."
"Almost." With a lean, the driver side door was guided shut. "Just remember, the two red wires."
"What if it's a new kinda car and they're all black?" Dominique shuffled his feet awkwardly and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. They felt bulky and unrealistic with the gloves on, but he could still feel the utility knife nestled between his fingers.
Aaron made no effort to answer, but began walking through the circles of light, keeping out of view of the overpass above, even though no cars had passed since the semi minutes before.