She turned toward the door. Elijah put his arm around her shoulder. Rick stepped aside without being told. As they crossed the lobby, Victoria Lane shook her head and muttered, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
Some people really don't know their place. Coming in here dressed like that, wasting everyone's time. Elijah stopped walking. His jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped in his cheek. Sylvia squeezed his arm.
"Not here," she whispered. "Not like this." They pushed through the glass doors. The Atlanta heat wrapped around them like a second insult. The parking lot shimmered.
Elijah's hands were shaking. Sylvia's were not. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She scrolled to a contact saved under one word, Nathan. It rang twice.
"Nathan, I need you at Piedmont National, the Buckhead branch on Peachtree. Bring everything." A pause on the other end. Then, "What happened?"
"What always happens." "15 minutes. Don't leave." She hung up, slid the phone back into her purse, looked up at the glass facade of the bank where her own money sat, guarded by a man who had decided she was nothing.
"Elijah." "Yeah, Grandma?" "We're going back inside."
Sylvia walked back into the bank like she owned it, which in a way she hadn't yet revealed, she partly did. Gerald saw her first. His face went from confusion to irritation in under a second. "You again? I told you to leave."
"And I told you I want my money." "Ma'am, if you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police." "Then call them." Gerald stared at her. Most people folded when he said the word police.
Most people grabbed their things and shuffled out with their eyes on the floor. This woman stood 5 feet 3 inches with her hands on her purse and looked at him like he was the one out of place. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
Yes, this is Gerald Crawford, branch manager at Piedmont National on Peachtree. I have two individuals who are refusing to leave the premises. They were asked to leave once and have now returned. I need officers dispatched immediately. Yes, I'll hold the line.
He hung up and smiled. It was the smile of a man who believed the cavalry was on its way. You have about 10 minutes to reconsider, Mrs. Bennett.
I've had 80 years to consider, Mr. Crawford. I think I'm good. Elijah stood beside her. His phone was already out.
He held it low against his hip, the camera recording. He had learned this reflex the way all young black men in America learn it. Not from a class, not from a manual, but from watching too many videos of people who looked like him where the only evidence that mattered was the footage that almost didn't exist. The lobby shifted. Amanda Pierce whispered something to Colin Reeves behind the counter.
Colin shook his head and walked to the back room without a word. Victoria Lane watched openly, lips pressed into a thin line of moral satisfaction. The man in the navy suit leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Gerald paced behind the counter. He straightened his tie twice, checked his Rolex three times.