The Girl Thief

by Robert E Cummings

  The cat meowed, looking up at her. Sammy thought the cat would make the leap after one look at her face, but he climbed the steps in slow, silky movements before jumping onto the sill. He rubbed the side of his face along Sammy’s arm.

  “You being friendly, or are you trying to get rid of fleas?”

  The cat climbed into her lap and leaned back into her. Sammy scratched him by the ears. He let out a low purr.

  “You got a name?” Sammy asked, running her hand along his soft fur. “Is it one of those Russian names I can’t pronounce?”

  The cat jumped to the floor. His tail rose as he snaked around the chair and table.

  “Any mice you find are yours.”

  The cat sat in front of the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room where a plate was left from Cindy’s breakfast. It had bits of egg and bacon.

  Sammy put the plate on the floor. “Guess you like your food caught.”

  She sat on the sofa, watching the cat feast. He licked the last of the egg, then strolled in front of Sammy, rubbing against her leg. Sammy picked him up. He nestled in her lap. She scratched behind his ears, slowly rocking him. He purred, sending a low hum up her chest.

  Sammy closed her eyes, leaning her head back. All the muscles in her neck and shoulders relaxed.

  ●●●

  The door banged open, awakening Sammy. Cindy held a package. “Sam?” She flicked on the wall switch, but the light didn’t turn on.

  Sammy waved. The cat was in a ball on her lap.

  Cindy put the package down. “Sam? Are you here?”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Sitting in the dark?”

  It looked more like twilight. “Fell asleep.”

  “Can you put a light on? Igor was supposed to fix this light yesterday.”

  The light from the hallway flooded the room. “I have a cat on my lap.”

  “You got a cat? Is that where you went this morning?”

  Sammy had forgotten all about this morning, and now it weighed heavy on her. “It’s not my cat. It’s Igor’s or one of his sisters’.”

  Cindy stepped into the room, arms out to feel for unseen objects. She walked past the lamp at the other end of the sofa.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “Kitchen.”

  “Watch for the—” Cindy stepped on the edge of the plate. It wobbled, making a low ringing sound. “Too late.”

  “You got the place booby-trapped?”

  “Take a big step, and you’ll clear the plate.”

  “You can see me, or is the cat telling you this?”

  Sammy chuckled, scratching the cat behind the ears.

  Cindy stepped over the plate and put the package on the counter. She felt for the wall and flipped the switch. Light flooded the room, washing the colors into a bluish gray. Sammy put her hand up, masking the light. She blinked, trying to get the colors back.

  “You okay?”

  Sammy dropped her hand. The colors were back. Weird.

  Cindy crouched down, peering at the cat. “Got a new friend?” She didn’t say anything about Sammy’s face.

  Cindy turned back to the bag, searching through it. “So what have you been doing all day?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “Got these little meatballs. I can heat them up if you want?”

  Sammy shook her head. “Not hungry.”

  Cindy turned back, but Sammy didn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll put them in the fridge. There’s enough here for a couple of meals.”

  Sammy watched Cindy tap around the counter in her heels. Why didn’t she say anything about her face?

  Cindy picked the plate off the floor. Cat looked up, hoping for another offering. “I got to get out of this dress.”

  Sammy nodded.

  Cindy lingered for a moment as if expecting Sammy to say something. She disappeared into the hallway.

  Sammy stroked the cat. “She’s probably calling right now to have me locked up. Should we wait or dash out?” The cat seemed content to lie in her lap.

  “That guy, Leo, has Johnny in a bind with all the stuff he’s asking him to buy,” Cindy shouted from her room. “I don’t trust him.”

  Poor Johnny, the victim.

  “You trust him?” Cindy asked.

  “More than I trust Johnny.”

  Cindy emerged in a white terrycloth robe. “If Leo is the real deal, you’ll get your money.”

  “Is that you saying it or Johnny?”

  Cindy slid down into the chair across from her. “Johnny isn’t so bad once you get to know him.”

  “Like hanging?”

  Cindy snickered. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  It’d been one of Uncle Danny’s favorite sayings.

  “Can I pet your pussy?” Cindy asked, reaching over.

  The cat hissed and jumped to the floor. He snaked around the dining room table and jumped up on the windowsill. He looked back before jumping onto the fire escape.

  “Not very friendly.”

  Sammy met Cindy’s gaze. Nothing in her eyes suggested anything was amiss. Cindy never had a poker face. “You don’t notice anything different about my face?”

  “Do something different?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  Cindy studied her. “Eyebrows. You tweezed your eyebrows?”

  “My face.” Sammy pressed her fingers into her cheek. “Don’t you notice anything different with my face?”

  Cindy leaned in closer. “The skin looks clear. Did you use a mask, one of those mud masks?”

  “Geez, Cindy, I think you need a walking stick.” Sammy bolted from the sofa and rushed into the bathroom. She prodded her face. “What the hell?” There was no sign of the bars.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  _____________________________

  Sammy sat at the table, flipping through a new exhibit at the Metro on her holo-screen. It was a bunch of paintings from a guy who’d died hundreds of years ago. The paintings were supposed to be priceless, but Sammy knew everything had a price. The question was could she steal one?

  Cindy trudged in through the front door, dressed in slacks and a pullover, and dropped onto the sofa before dissolving into the cushions. “Who knew painting and cleaning could be so hard?”

  “They have bots for that, you know.”

  “Johnny doesn’t have money for anything.”

  “I guess that goes for paying.”

  “He’ll give us all a nice bonus once we’re up and running again.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Sammy said mostly to herself.

  Cindy looked up from massaging her leg. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t bring you anything. Johnny had a really nice spread, but the girls were famished.”

  “I ate already.” Did she eat?

  Cindy hauled herself up off the sofa and plodded into the kitchen. “So what have you been doing?”

  “Admiring fine art. I’m trying to get cultured.”

  Cindy poured herself a glass of water and shuffled to the counter, peering at the display. It was a painting of a guy in a black square hat, not looking too happy about sitting for the drawing. “You like it?”

  “It’s priceless.”

  Cindy scooted around the counter, sipping from the water. “The marinade sauce was too salty.” She angled her head as if the new position would give her a greater appreciation for the painting. “You going to steal it?”

  Sammy shrugged. “If it’s priceless, they’re going to have alarms I never heard of.”

  “If you’re up to stealing, Leo needs you to get something for him.”

  “How’s he going to pay?”

  “Johnny will pay.”

  “Yeah, like he paid me the thousand the last time.”

  “He’s just strapped right now with the way the business is and all the stuff that Leo needs.”

  “Guess I can forget about the forty-five hundred too.” />
  “Leo said it won’t be hard at all.”

  “That traitor. We were supposed to stick together, but as soon as Johnny told him he’d get him his toys, I was dropped to the curb.”

  “They don’t have guns,” Cindy said. “If they had guns, I wouldn’t ask you to do it.”

  “So it’ll be five guys with clubs.”

  Cindy took a sip from the glass. “Leo said it’ll be nothing like that.”

  “So now you trust Leo?”

  “He made sure you got some money, didn’t he?”

  “A hundred bucks? What’s that?”

  “It’s a machine this time, Sam.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be the wrong machine or some other screwup if I have to depend on what they tell me.”

  “If you don’t help him now, you’ll never get your money.”

  “I’ve come to terms with never getting another dollar from that cheapskate. Lesson learned, never work for a skin-joint owner.”

  Cindy looked down, rolling the edge of her pullover between her fingers.

  Sammy grinned at the thought of somebody nailing shut the front door of the Pleasure Palace. “It might even be worth all the money Johnny owes me to see him sweeping the floors at some dive. I’ll get something with a lot of crumbs and sprinkle it all over the floor. ‘Sorry, Johnny, I didn’t think it’d make such a mess.’” Sammy laughed.

  Cindy looked up, eyes tearing. “What about me? And the girls?”

  Sammy didn’t know what to say. She was still liking Johnny for a floor sweeper.

  “Gina needs money for her sick momma, and Yolanda’s sister isn’t quite right in the head and needs money to take care of her.”

  “They can get—”

  “Johnny helps them even though he’s strapped. He’s not so bad.”

  Sammy looked at the door for an escape.

  Cindy touched her arm. “Sam, it can’t hurt to listen to what they have to say.”

  Sammy turned back. A whiff of turpentine rolled off of Cindy.

  “The way Leo was talking, the job will pay good too.”

  “Saying how much he’ll pay and paying it are two different things.”

  “He’ll pay you.”

  “How do you know?”

  Cindy creased her brow, thinking about it. “He pays Igor, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s another one,” Sammy said. “He had to be bribed to turn over Mama’s medicine to fix my leg.”

  “Igor got a Russian dancer named Albina for Johnny. Would he have gotten her for him if Johnny didn’t pay?”

  “Igor wouldn’t do nothing for nobody.” He’d probably charge her for letting Cat sit with her. Sammy stood and looked for Cat by the window.

  “See, he’ll pay. You caught Johnny at a bad time, that’s all.”

  Sure, anything was possible—the moon going dark, the sun burning out in the sky, and Johnny paying her. She walked to the kitchen to make tea.

  Cindy followed her. “So?”

  Sammy poured water into the kettle and put it on the stove.

  Cindy had an expectant look, like the twins just before candy was handed out. “Should I call him and tell him you’ll stop by tomorrow?”

  Sammy tried not to smile. “I don’t know.”

  “Just to talk. That’s all.”

  “If I go on an empty stomach…”

  Cindy ran up and hugged her.

  Sammy stepped back. “I’m not promising anything.”

  “I know.”

  Sammy turned to the whistling kettle. She was closer than she thought and burned her hand on the escaping steam.

  Cindy screamed.

  Sammy turned back, catching her reflection off Cindy’s makeup mirror on the counter. Her hair was on fire!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  _____________________________

  Sammy and Cindy sat at the table closest to the bar. The Pleasure Palace smelled of paint. The front doors were open, but the lack of windows meant the smell would linger for days.

  Cindy glanced at Sammy’s hair for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Maybe it was the paint fumes?”

  “What?”

  “Breathing in all those paint fumes could make you see things, couldn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I’d like to see myself somewhere else,” Sammy said, shifting in her seat. “Where is he?”

  “Janine thinks Johnny slept in his office.” Cindy reached over and brushed Sammy’s hair.

  “Stop it already, Cindy.”

  “It feels coarse. Did you do something to it?”

  “Yeah, I took a splash to the face.”

  “It was just water,” Cindy said, glancing at her hair as if it were going to flame up again. “The water put it out.”

  “Tell Johnny your painting days are over.”

  “If I was just seeing things, would the water have changed it?”

  Sammy shrugged. All she knew was that she was turning into some kind of freak.

  Jonathan trudged over. He had splashes of paint on his arm, shirt, and trousers.

  Cindy leaped from her chair. “The place looks great, Johnny.”

  Johnny took in the place and nodded. “Be a doll and get me some coffee.”

  The club didn’t look any different, maybe a little cleaner, brighter.

  Johnny dropped into the chair. “Want anything?”

  Sammy thought about having pineapple juice but then remembered what happened the last time. Maybe it wasn’t poisoned but rotten, like everything in this place. She shook her head, sending Cindy into a gleeful retrieving mode.

  Jonathan leaned back, his face puffy and unshaven.

  “Look like shit,” Sammy said. “Good thing I skipped breakfast.”

  He turned slowly toward her with a slight sneer. “And I get to look at you first thing.”

  Sammy smiled. “Anything to brighten your day, Johnny.”

  His sneer turned more into a grin. He looked away and sighed. “He needs something else. It’s always something else with this guy.”

  A group of girls gathered around a table at the other end of the place, each cradling a cup. Were they dancers?

  Jonathan glanced back. “It’s like I’m playing roulette. I keep putting money on black, and it keeps coming up red.”

  “That’s a sucker’s game.”

  “Feel like a sucker. I’m trying to figure out who is running the con, you or him?”

  “Yeah, it’s got to be me with all the money I made from you.”

  Jonathan looked back. Cindy held a tray, talking to the girls at the table. “What’s the matter with her? Doesn’t she know I’m dying here?”

  “The only reason I’m here is because of Cindy. If you say anything to her, I’m leaving.”

  He glanced at Sammy, then stood and waved. “Doll?”

  Cindy trotted over. “Sorry, Johnny.”

  He patted her butt as she put the cup down. “Best hostess in the place.”

  Cindy blushed, tugging on her shirt. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Sammy wanted to kick him in the balls and walk out of the place.

  Jonathan sat and sipped the coffee.

  “It’s a fresh pot; that’s why it took so long.”

  He nodded, making grotesque slurping noises.

  The coffee looked hot enough to do some damage.

  “If you need anything else, give me a holler,” Cindy said, trotting back to the table.

  Jonathan sat back and put the coffee down. “That’s better.”

  Sammy lamented her missed opportunity.

  He turned back. “Where the hell is he? I told him you were here.”

  Cindy held court at the table. Her fingers flickered along the side of her head. Was she telling them about Sammy’s hair being on fire?

  “He’s always tinkering with something. He’s probably tinkering with something right now.”

  Cindy was doing the shoveling motion of tossing the glass of water. The table erupted into laughter. Sure, laugh at th
e freak.

  Jonathan stood, saying something about getting him. “He’s coming.”

  Leo jogged to the table. “Great, you’re here.”

  Jonathan sat. “Where the hell were you?”

  “So many things to do to prepare.” Leo grabbed the chair next to Sammy and pulled it close. “So how are you feeling?”

  Sammy shuffled the chair away. “Fine.”

  “Nothing unusual, strange sensations, anything?”

  Sammy looked away and shook her head.

  Jonathan pushed the cup of coffee aside and planted his elbows on the table. “Enough with all the questions already. Tell her what you need.”

  Leo grinned as if Johnny were an annoying kid. “The final piece of this operation is a gene editor. Do you know what it is?”

  Sammy sighed. “Edits genes?”

  Leo chuckled. “Yes, of course, but what is the purpose of it?”

  “I don’t know. Fix a mistake?”

  “Its primary function is to change known disease pathways.”

  Johnny just stared at Leo like the dumb kid who sat in the back and doodled on his tablet.

  “More proactive methods are used to change the original design. A somewhat crude analogy is genes as blueprints for constructing a building. Just as one could change the position or shape of a window or door in a blueprint, the gene editor allows one to replace genes and thus change the design of the organism.”

  Jonathan huffed. “Enough with the science lesson already. Just tell her what she has to steal.”

  Leo glanced at Johnny as though he were one of those trouble-makers at school. “Since funds are low and the machine is expensive, we’ll have to procure one through theft.”

  “Maybe Johnny can sell his sex-doll collection to raise funds. There may be a classic one in the bunch.”

  Jonathan leaned in toward her, turning red. “Why you little…” He spun out of his chair and marched to the back.

  Sammy snickered. “I guess he doesn’t want to part with his collection.”

  Leo studied her. “You seem to enjoy irritating him.”

  Cindy followed Johnny into the back.

  “Yeah, that’s why he calls everyone ‘doll,’” Sammy said. “It reminds him of his first love.”