The police officer looked at Ruby. “Who is this?”
“Molly, I want you to meet Grace, my new…” Ruby hesitated. “Is it too soon to call you my girlfriend?”
Grace kissed her hard on the cheek. “I hope not, ’cause I’ve been calling you my girlfriend for two weeks.”
Ruby’s face glowed as she rested her hands on Grace’s belt.
Her belt. Where her gun sat. Because she was a police officer.
Ruby is dating a cop.
Suddenly those dumplings weren’t sitting well in my stomach.
“Baby, this is best friend Molly,” Ruby said, still gazing at Grace like I wasn’t even there.
The look in Ruby’s eyes was like nothing I’d seen on her before—total and complete adoration. I wouldn’t have been surprised if cartoon hearts started shooting out of her pupils.
Ruby. Is dating. A cop.
I gave a little awkward wave. “Hi.”
Grace smiled. “Nice to meet you. Ruby talks about you all the time.”
“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone,” I said to Ruby, trying to remain calm. “How long has this been going on?”
Just keep smiling. You won’t seem like a defensive weirdo if you keep smiling.
Ruby shrugged. “About a month. Maybe a month and a half.”
“One month and seventeen days,” Grace said.
Ruby squeezed Grace’s hand. “You’re so sweet! Hey, we have some Chinese food left if you want some.” She glanced down at the noodles spilled out onto the carpet.
“No, I can’t stay. I’m doing patrol in the area. I just wanted to pop in and say hi.” She looked back down at me. “The three of us should get dinner sometime. I’d love to get to know you better.”
“Sure,” I croaked. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I swallowed a noodle the wrong way.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “Ohhhhkay.” She laughed and looked back at Ruby. “I gotta go. Am I seeing you tonight?”
Ruby nodded. “I’ll make us dinner.”
“And I’ll make breakfast.” They giggled, kissed again and Grace left.
Ruby sat back down on the couch beside me, a big, goofy, disgusting smile on her face.
Un. Be. Liev. Able.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
She tilted her head like a confused puppy. “What’s your problem?”
“Her. That woman. I have a big problem with you dating her.”
Ruby’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re gonna get all homophobic racist on me now? Molly, I thought you were cool—”
“Not that!” I snapped. “She is a cop. An officer of the law.”
Ruby shrugged. “And?”
I lowered my voice. “Well, for one thing, I’m a professional thief. Second, you cook the books for me and most of your clients.” I spoke slowly in hopes that she would understand. “We’re both criminals.”
“So?”
“And she’s a cop.”
“Molly, she’s dating me, not auditing me.” She rolled her eyes and gathered up the empty Chinese food cartons. “You are being ridiculous.”
“What did you tell her I do for a living?”
“I said your parents are rich, and you don’t really do anything.”
“And she bought that?”
“Yeah. She thinks you’re lazy and entitled.”
I sat back on the sofa. “You can’t mess up, Ruby. You have to be really careful about what you say about me or Paul or any of your clients.”
“I’ll be careful! I’ll be the most careful person who has ever carefuled.”
We sat quietly for a moment. I was still in a state of shock that Ruby would be so stupid and put the wants of her vagina before the security of her clients and friends.
“I’m sorry I called you a racist homophobe,” she said quietly. “What do you think of her? I mean, other than the fact that she’s a cop.”
I shrugged. “She’s pretty hot.”
Ruby nodded, her face practically bursting with joy. “I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever dated. In fact, I think she’s the first black woman I’ve ever dated.”
“No, you dated what’s-her-face last year. The girl that worked at American Apparel.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about her,” Ruby said, nodding as she remembered. “She was so hot.”
* * *
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said, rummaging in my purse for my keys. “Traffic was just … well, you know how it is.”
Or I was totally distracted and forgot you were coming today.
I found my keys and unlocked the front door while Kai, my decorator, smiled weakly, a thick binder under his arm. His eyes wandered up the side of the duplex, a dull building made up of pinkish-red bricks, two floors and two front doors.
Silently, he followed me into my new home—a tall and narrow space with wood floors, exposed brick on one accent wall, a recently renovated luxury bathroom and, upstairs, the loft bedroom I’ve always wanted.
Kai’s eyes came alive. “Oh my god. You said it was nice. This is incredible.” He finally brought his eyes back to me. “This is a fantastic space.”
Uh, yeah. I know.
I shrugged. “I’m just used to living in a much bigger space in Manhattan.”
Kai ignored me, wandering aimlessly around the room, gazing up at the high ceilings and crown moulding. He surveyed the Everest-size mountain of boxes piled at the far end of the apartment.
“How long have you lived here?” He raised an eyebrow.
I hesitated. “Two weeks … ish.”
Closer to two months. Unpacking is hard!
“That’s … a lot of stuff.” He nodded and opened up his binder. “We’ll likely need some kind of storage unit in there. Maybe some ceiling-high bookcases. How’s the kitchen for storage?”
I have no idea. I don’t really use that.
“Um, I’m pretty sure the kitchen is fine. Ya know, it’s got cupboards and … drawers ’n stuff.”
“Do you share the apartment with a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Husband?”
“No. Just me.”
And the first guy I’ve managed to get into my apartment is my decorator. Awesome.
He nodded, the gaze from his ice-blue eyes landing on the glassed-in kitchen cabinets. “This place is so lovely … and you don’t have a table. Where do you eat?”
“Usually on the sofa in front of the TV.”
“But you don’t have a TV.”
“I’ve just been eating meals in bed while watching TV on my laptop,” I mumbled. “And using my neighbor’s Wi-Fi. Because I haven’t gotten around to getting it hooked up.”
Kai stared at me for a moment. “Alright then. I’ll add a dining area to the list. I’ll need to know what kind of TV will be there so I can design around it.” He glanced at the loft. “Mind if I take a look upstairs?”
While my gorgeous interior decorator checked things over in my new-ish apartment and asked questions now and then, I checked my phone. There were two missed calls from Mom but nothing else.
It had been a few days since I’d heard from Rhys. That was unusual. I couldn’t help but feel a little worried. I wanted to text him to check on him, but he was usually the one to text me first, to start up the conversation, and I wanted it to stay that way. I also wanted to seem like the cool, easy-going, relaxed friend, not the needy friend.
“I have a lot of great ideas, Molly. This place is going to look amazing.” Kai beamed. “Do you have any questions before I go?”
“Not really. You can do whatever you feel this place needs. I hired you to make my home beautiful because I know what you can do,” I said. “And I know what you can do because I saw you on a rerun of a makeover show last week. I love what you did to that apartment in Harlem—the one owned by that lady with four poodles.”
He laughed. “Being on that stupid show was the best thing that’s ever happened to my career. That client was awful. Such a phony for the cameras.”
I walked him to the front door. “Thanks for coming by. This should be a really fun.”
Kai nodded. “It’s going to be beautiful. I’ll call you and we can talk color palette—oh. Hi.”
For a second, I thought Kai had run into Rhys. But it wasn’t Rhys. It wasn’t even a guy.
As Kai made his exit, I put my hands on my hips and looked at the pretty twenty-year-old woman standing on my doorstep. She twisted a piece of her wavy, honey-colored hair around her finger and looked up at me with big blue-green eyes. She didn’t smile but just looked bored, a brown backpack strap hanging from her shoulder.
“Is that your boyfriend?”
“No. That’s my decorator.”
“Too bad. He’s cute.” She bit her lower lip. “So I’m staying here for the rest of the summer.”
“Nope.”
“Mom said I should.”
“Mom doesn’t get to decide that without asking me. This is my home. And even if she did ask me, the answer would still be no. You are not staying here.”
“Either I stay here or I stay with Amber’s weird friends in Jersey City who have, like, ten dogs in their one-bedroom apartment.”
I sighed and moved away from the door so she could go inside.
“Where am I going to sleep?” She tossed her bag onto the sofa. “Where’s your TV?”
“The sofa pulls out into a bed, and I don’t have a TV yet.”
“Why haven’t you unpacked your stuff?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
“It’s ‘password123.’”
“Is Ruby coming over tonight? Do you still see that guy you used to live with?”
“No to both questions.”
She opened the fridge. “I didn’t have lunch. Do you have anything to eat?”
Ladies and gents, my little sister.
CHAPTER THREE
Molly: What am I supposed to do with her?
Ruby: I don’t know! Take her for walks. Play fetch. Keep an eye on her so she doesn’t hump the couch cushions.
Molly: I’m so glad you’re amused. You’re not the one with a college student sleeping on your couch.
I tossed my phone onto the pillow beside me and scooted to the edge of my bed, peering over the side of the loft railing. I could hear Haylee snoring softly. One of her delicate hands hung off the side of the sofa bed.
The night before had been a little awkward. Haylee offered to make us some dinner to thank me for letting her stay, although I hadn’t exactly agreed fully to her staying more than one night. She had gone into the kitchen to start cooking and found empty cabinets and no plates. Everything was still lost in the pile of boxes lined up against the wall.
“I love that you have four different take-out menus in your fridge,” she said, looking over one from the Italian place nearby. “Some people actually keep food in here.”
That was one good thing about having a roommate—they remind you to buy groceries.
“I would’ve put them on the fridge, but my magnets are still packed.”
We ordered some food, and she helped me unpack about half of the boxes over the course of the evening.
Yes. I did in fact eat take-out twice that day. I didn’t share this fact with my sister as I shoveled lasagna into my mouth.
I took my phone into the bathroom and closed the door gently so not to wake Haylee. I skimmed through my contacts and pressed the call button.
A groggy voice greeted me from the other end. “Hello?”
“Hi. It’s me,” I said quietly. “What’s the deal with you sending your youngest away to stay with me? Without asking!”
“Well,” Mom began, already sounding defensive, “I assumed you didn’t mind her staying at your place, since you didn’t reply to my emails.”
“A lack of response does not equal a ‘yes.’ A lack of response is ‘I’m busy and I haven’t had a chance to answer my emails.’” I rested my forehead against the bathroom door, forcing myself not to bang my head repeatedly.
“She’s already at your place. You’re just going to have to entertain her.”
“Entertain her? I have to work!”
“She’s twenty. She can stay by herself while you’re at work.”
My mom and stepdad think I work as a personal assistant in an office. (The thought of me actually being a P.A. is pretty hilarious.) It would break my mother’s heart to know one of her daughters had followed in their father’s footsteps and pursued a life of crime.
“Haylee? Stay alone in my apartment? Oh, no. No, no, no. No. Absolutely not.”
“Molly, come on! It’ll be such an adventure for her to spend a month or so in New York City with her big sister. You’re both grown up now. Might be nice for you to spend some quality time together. You can get to know one another and bond and—”
“You guys are fighting, aren’t you?”
Mom was quiet for a moment. “Not all the time—”
“I knew it. Thanks for trying to guilt-trip me, Mom.”
“You have to keep her there for at least a few weeks,” she pleaded. “I just … I can’t. You know I love my children but—”
Always a good way to start a sentence.
“—she’s driving me nuts. College has changed her. She sleeps all day and then stays out all night. I found pot in her purse.”
“Wait. Why were you looking in her purse?”
“When she’s actually at home,” she continued, “she just lays on the couch and watches reality shows and texts her friends. She barely speaks to me. She’s downright rude to Joe. She won’t get a job. I can thank your father for that.”
In addition to paying for Haylee’s tuition, Dad also supplied Haylee with a very reasonable monthly stipend for living expenses. Mom knew that money came from Dad, and she knew the money was likely acquired by illegal means, but she knew she couldn’t afford Haylee’s tuition otherwise, so she never spoke up against it. I knew she didn’t like it, though. Not one little bit.
“So you send her to New York? I’m not a damn babysitter, Mom. I have my own stuff going on.”
“Just give me a few Haylee-free weeks. Please. A few weeks, maybe a month. That is all I ask.”
I adjusted my hair in the bathroom mirror and frowned at my reflection. “She can stay here on a trial basis. If she goes and does her Haylee thing, I’m sending her back to Vermont.”
“Oh, honey, please don’t talk about your sister that way.”
“Why not? You just did!”
“It’s different. She’s not my sister.”
* * *
I went to the nearest convenience store and bought cereal, milk, coffee, pancake mix, eggs and bread. Breakfast can be eaten for every meal, as far as I’m concerned. While I fished for my keys, my neighbors were locking up and heading out for the day. I had caught glimpses of them from my kitchen window, but I’d avoided meeting them or speaking to them until this point.
They looked to be a hip, artsy couple in their early thirties. The woman, a tiny Asian with giant sunglasses, smiled at me and gave a small wave.
“Hi. You must be the new neighbor. I’m Wren, this is Arlo.”
Of course your names are Wren and Arlo. Fucking Brooklyn.
“Hey. I’m Molly.”
Arlo, the owner of a fantastic beard, nodded. “Nice to meet you.” He glanced at Wren for a second and then back at me. “You haven’t been using our Wi-Fi, have you? It’s been slower the last few weeks—”
Wren elbowed him in the side. “Sorry, he’s paranoid about the neighbors stealing our Wi-Fi. I told him not to mention it.” She glared up at him.
Your password is ‘password123.’ Of course I’ve been using your Wi-Fi.
I shrugged. “No. I’ve got a cable package. Must be someone else in the neighborhood.”
Probably everyone. Idiot.
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry about him.” Wren shook her head, embarrassed. “Anyway, we have to get going. It was nice meeting you!”
“You too.”
I stepped back into my home and sighed loudly.
Crap. Now I’ll have to say hi every time I see them. Why can’t I just have distant, indifferent neighbors like I did in Manhattan?
Haylee was still asleep on the sofa bed when I dropped the groceries onto the counter. Her snoring faltered, and she made a quiet whining sound as she stretched, the same sound she made as a little kid when she’d wake up from a nap.
“Hey,” she said. “You bought food.”
I held up a shiny brown bag. “And coffee.”
“Is it fair trade?”
I stared at her for a second and then skimmed the package. “No?”
Haylee sighed. “Is that cereal gluten-free?”
I looked at the package again. “No. Says here it’s one hundred percent gluten.”
She scowled. “You’re making fun of me.”
I spoke slowly and clearly so she’d understand. “You do not have a gluten allergy.”
Haylee rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her nose.
I went about my business in the kitchen, making sure to close cabinet doors loudly and slam the fridge door shut. When Haylee finally gave up on sleep and left the couch, she didn’t say a word to me or make eye contact as she took her bag to the bathroom.
I folded the bed back into the sofa and ate some breakfast while watching TV on my laptop. I figured I better make the best of it before the hipster neighbors got wise and changed their terrible password.
Haylee came back out with her hair in a towel. She helped herself to the granola bars I bought that morning and sat beside me on the sofa.
“It’s Tuesday,” she said.
I chewed my cereal and kept watching my show. “Correct.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
I’d actually prepared for that question. “I’m on vacation.”
“Just this week?”
I smiled. “As long as you are here.”
Thick as Thieves Page 2