Note to all, this is the end of the story. I had split it up into three chapters, but heck with it; I'm going all in! Hope you've all enjoyed this story; I had a good time writing it. You may hear from me latter, I don't know about another Holes Fic. Thank you for reading, reviewing, and encouraging the author.-OyNebach42
Chapter Eight: The Last
Hundreds of people flocked into city hall to see the touring AKC champion poodle and gaze wishfully at its offspring, wondering which would be the next star.
Lobo and his gang blended into the crowd, looking like any other innocent bystanders reading notices by the fount door.
"Today only," Luis read aloud from the biggest sign, "meet the world famous Pepi, AKC champion of 1999. Also view his offspring, future show pups. For a limited time, purchase one of these show pups only one thousand dollars each."
"Good going, Luis, I think you're ready for the fourth reader." Lobo observed.
The dread locked boy snorted, nose ring glistening.
Cristina laughed; she'd fallen in with Lobo lately. Jealousy rose in Jose, flooding his body with anger. He couldn't help but notice that her purl necklace was not present, and she was wearing her black dress; the one Lobo found so attractive.
"You ready José?" Lobo asked punching the air impatiently, Cristina giggled again.
It almost made José sick, "yeah, I'm ready, Lobo."
The gang's leader nodded, "O.K then, I'll go first."
Volunteering first was smart of Lobo, and also pretty dumb. Guards are more wary of the first guy. They tend to watch his every move, making sure he disturbs nothing. It was very dangerous to go first, so naturally Cristina would think the primary volunteer was extremely brave. For a guy who jelled his hair, Lobo was pretty smart.
"Fine by me," José called indifferently.
Cristina wound her arms around the gang's leader, and gently laid her head on his chest. "You'll be careful won't you?" She asked pleadingly, "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you, Lobo."
"Hey don't worry about me, baby doll," Lobo said looking down into her exotic features, "I'll be fine." They kissed.
José's breakfast tried to fight its way to the top, but he managed to keep it down. Behind him, Grande made exaggerated gagging sounds; José wasn't the only one who found it revolting. Luckily, only three more kisses followed before Lobo disappeared inside.
As soon as he left, Cristina drug José over to the building's far side.
"I wanted to know, José," she whispered, smiling mischievously, "did you really mean all the things you said last night?"
The youth glanced about nervously; he couldn't remember saying anything the night before. He looked down at Cristina; she was gazing at him with big hopeful eyes.
"Yes," he muttered.
Before he knew it, she had him in a kissing embrace. J wondered with alarm what he could have said the night before, with luck; it hadn't been what he thought it was.
Cristina released him and gently smoothed out his shirt, "I don't think it's right for Lobo to know," she began, the shoplifter's anxiety lifted a notch, "but I don't want you to leave, without knowing how much I love you, José."
As their lips joined that final time, José felt all his worldly cares wash away, all that mattered was that Cristina loved him, and that he loved her back.
Jose and Cristina made their way back to the building's entrance where Luis and Grande were taking bets on if Lobo would make it out or not.
"Twenty bucks says he doesn't make it out." Gato called waving the paper money in Luis' face.
"Oh yeah?" The other challenged, "Double that says he makes it out, with the dog."
Grande was impressed, if Luis bide on anything it meant he was sure of the outcome. "How do you know, Luis? Is Lobo plotting something?"
"Only to get Cristina her puppy." A voice called from behind the gang. It was Lobo; in his hands was a small white dog, a championship AKC poodle puppy.
"Oh Lobo!" Cristina exclaimed, running to his side. The dog whimpered pathetically, "Oh Lobo," she gasp again, "she's wonderful!"
The gang's leader smiled. Jose fumed. Lobo had done it, successfully stolen one of the dogs.
"What do you think, José? I still get to be leader, don't I?"
Jose made no response, he'd been wrong about Lobo.
"So, you to prove your man enough, José?" Lobo mocked as he handed Cristina the dog.
"Yeah, I'm ready."
"Suit yourself."
"I'll see you later José." Cristina said, there was no doubt in her mind if he would succeed or not.
Grande placed a massive hand on his shoulder. "Be careful, José." He warned.
Nodding, the Mexican youth turned to go.
"Oh and Jose," Lobo shouted. "Next time we meet, you'll be in handcuffs."
"We'll see about that, Lobo." Jose roared back while opening one of the entrance's double doors, he disappeared inside.
Lobo smiled, the case was already closed.
A security guard stood on either sided of the entrance. Their eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Cautiously they scanned the crowd. No suspicious characters' present.
Unsurprisingly, the majority of the assembled were adolescents, adults don't take much time out of their lives to go look at poodle dogs. The kids were the ones you had to look out for, epically the innocent looking ones.
Take that little girl with pigtails for example, a very likely suspect. It was easy to tell from the way she kept petting the puppy next to the lock. The more dimwitted of the two guards frowned and exchanged a look with his partner. The other shook his head, no threat there.
O.K so maybe she wasn't out to try anything, but somewhere in this room there was a thief waiting for the right moment, the dimwitted guard just knew it.
The second Jose saw the poodle dogs, he knew Lobo had cheated. These dogs were solid black, not even a hint of white among them. He started back to the door, when suddenly he had an idea. Not only would he bust Lobo, but he'd also get Cristina her poodle dog. He'd get his own back on Lobo, with insult and injury.
There's a certain art to shoplifting which very few non shoplifters view as an art, it makes shoplifting exciting, challenging and gratifying, and it is the art of concealing stolen objects on one's person.
Jose wondered which was the best place to hide a poodle dog in. His pocket was the natural choice, it was big enough to hold a dog, and loose enough not to look he was in truth hiding something.
Cautiously, he circled the cage, hidden among the spectators. He could crack locks like those in his sleep, standard key lock; piece of cake. The tricky part was doing it without anyone noticing. Unlike Wal-Mart, this place was crawling with people, and two armed guards stood by the door way.
One of the puppies lifted on its hind legs next to the lock and began whining. Jose smiled, Bingo. He stretched out a hand, counseling a lock pick. So while it looked like he was petting the poodle with an index finger, in reality, he was picking the lock simultaneously.
The public's interest in watching the caged puppies was starting to waned. As they all migrated to the auditorium where a presentation was being made about Pepi. One of the guards left.
A little girl standing right in front of the remaining guard's line of sight began arguing with her counterpart about which of the puppies was prettiest. Perfect.
In one sudden movement, José opened the cage door and slipped the black puppy into his pocket. Then he swung the door shut quickly. If all went according to plain, the guard hadn't noticed a thing.
What lousy luck the dimwitted guard was having. He was sure this must be his slowest day. Usually, he made at least fifteen arrests in an hour. He prayed that someone would try and steal something.
The presentation was about to start in the next room. At his side Morris stretched, "I'm going to guard the big dog, Simmons, you stay here and remember; don't arrest someone until you're sure they did something wrong!" And he left, chuckling to himself.
Simmons wrinkled his nose mockingly. Just then he caught sight of a Mexican kid petting one of the dogs, the one closest to the lock. The dimwitted guard narrowed his eyes. Was it just him, or did the lock jump? Simmons started to go see, when a battle erupted before him.
"The little one's the prettiest!" A young girl screamed.
"Nuh hu," another called back, "the one by the food bowls prettier!"
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
"Is not!" the first one shrieked again and pulled her friend's hair.
The guard sighed, things never got duller than this. He moved over to sort out the problem.
The Mexican pushed past him, hurrying to the door, maybe he'd miss judged the kid.
Just then, a bark pieced the room, a bark that seemed to, for all reason, be coming from the youth pocket. The kid kept right on walking.
"Hey you," Simmons called.
The boy started running, another bark sounded, this time accompanied by a dog's head, that popping out of his back pocket. Defiantly a thief.
"Hey you," Simmons shouted again, drawing his handgun and leaving it to the boys head. "Don't move.
Jose couldn't really believe any of this was happening. He couldn't believe when the puppy barked, when the cop pulled a gun on him, he couldn't believe any of it, until he was handcuffed. The cold metal clamps pinched his skin and the Mexican youth knew he was no longer dreaming.
He had failed. Failed Cristina, failed Grande, failed himself. Jose supposed Lobo was happy, Luis would be too.
The cops called for a wagon. He was going down town, and soon after, to the slammer. The youth wondered what his parents would say; the old guilt was alive and kicking.
He was sure his life had come to an end, not even the best lawyer in the world would be able to talk him out of this one. Jose was going to jail.
But maybe jail wasn't so bad, maybe all those T.V. programs just exaggerated about the gangs and the killings. Maybe.
At least he wouldn't be at home. Jose didn't know if he'd ever look his family in the face again. Curse that dog! Curse himself.
A siren sounded. The cop wagon was here.
There was a great mass of people around him, pointing, staring, and whispering to one another. The Mexican youth lowered his gaze to the floor tiles.
"Make room, people! Make room!" José's arresting officer called as he shoved his way though the crowd. "Haven't you ever seen an arrest before? Make room!"
The shoplifter felt a hand grab each of his arms. He was pushed forward. "Didn't I tell you people to get out of the way?! Make room!" A large hole formed in the heard. Jose was shoved forward again, "come on kid, I haven't got all day!"
The kid took a step, his feet felt like led. This was the way men on death row must feel, step by step, inch by inch, he was walking to his doom.
Daylight shone before him, maybe the last time he would see it for a long while.
He knew the gang would have split after the police wagon came, but even so Jose couldn't help but look over where they has stood.
Cristina and Grande where there, neither would have believed it unless they saw for themselves that José had been caught.
Gato shook his giant head sadly. Cristina looked at him with wide eyes, "José" she mouthed. What emotion was in her eyes? Sadness? Remorse? Shock? Betrayal? The Mexican youth couldn't tell because he was forced into the back of the van.
Jose pressed his face against the grated window. Getting one last view of his fellow shoplifters as they turned around the building. Cristina was crying, Jose could see her shoulders jerking at every sob, Grande tried to sooth her, his arm about her waist.
The police wagon pulled away, José let his head rest on the cold hard walls.
He could have had Cristina at this side now, and Lobo far away. He could have had Grande Gato as his second in command and Luis demoted to nothing. Everything could have been perfect, if only his pocket hadn't started barking.
The End.
