“Hop out the van. Now. I think you got got. Don’t forget the gas!” she barked, ending the call.

Moments later, she heard a loud crash. Unfazed, she sat patiently, waiting. Apollo came first, sliding into the passenger’s seat. A few minutes later, Zed, Theo, and Kai reappeared, ambling toward the car in a cloud of sweat and defeat. “It’s a bust,” Theo declared, approaching the driver’s side.

“Get in,” Sol ordered, gesturing toward the back seat. Theo hesitated.

“But you’re in my seat,” he complained.

“Just fucking get in, dude,” Apollo ordered. “Change of plans.”

Theo obliged. Zed and Kai followed suit.

“This is what we’re doing,” Sol announced. “We’re going to take Theo’s car, do the tag, torch the car, then file a police report saying the car was stolen at gunpoint when we got out the car at the Fort McPherson MARTA station, headed to the movies. This is better than me wasting my time going to actually pick up movie tickets while you guys fuck this up.”

“What about Zed’s car?” Kai pondered aloud. Zed perked up, concerned.

“We’re going to leave it here,” Sol said, starting the engine and turning the car back toward Campbellton. “This neighborhood is fine. It’s just old people and their ratchet grandkids.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Zed said.

Within minutes, they were at the entrance to Fort McPherson, an old military base that was being redeveloped into a movie studio.

Sol jerked right, then reversed onto Kenilworth Drive, aligning the car with the gated entrance, one hundred yards away. She examined the intersection multiple times, her neck oscillating up and down the quiet street. Campbellton was clear. Venetian was clear. Sol turned off the music then revved the engine.

Sol leaned over the armrest, inches from Apollo’s face. “There’s not like a barrier on the other side of this gate, right? I read that bases in Iraq sometimes have trick entrances and shit like that. I’m blaming you if this goes wrong,” she warned.

Apollo nodded. “Tyler Perry’s studio has been using this entrance to shuttle in producers and actors who don’t want to be associated with Tyler Perry before signing a contract. Just yesterday, Aaron McGruder was here. I have satellite images to confirm it.” Satisfied, Sol evacuated his personal space then abruptly accelerated, thrusting them forward across Campbellton and into the gate.

Metal met metal, producing a booming clang. But the car kept going. Sol was booking it, immediately executing her improvised plan. She felt calm as she saw everyone else assume their roles: Kai pulled up a map on her phone, barking out terse directions; Apollo frantically keyed away on the encrypted laptop, summoning images of schematics and documents with maddeningly long lines of code; Zed stretched her legs across the armrest, tightening her shoelaces. Only Theo was idle. Sol wasn’t surprised. They were doing this all for him, but he really wasn’t necessary.

The battered Civic swerved into the parking lot of a tired two-story brick building. Sol stopped, keeping the car running. She looked away as Zed leaned forward and kissed Apollo’s neck then opened the car and sprinted toward the building. “She’s got twenty minutes,” Theo declared. “Let’s make it count.” Sol winced at Theo in the rearview mirror then drove the car back to the main road, making a left. He thought he was in charge again. Nah.