I’ve never been this close to Olive. I wonder if she would recognize me. Has she ever seen a photo of me? I can’t imagine Joel carrying around a picture of me—he wouldn’t have done that even when we were together. I was the one who took the selfies. I have dozens of them on my phone—Joel and me, my sister and me, Lydia and me. I even got Nonna in on one of them. It all seems so silly now.
I get up from my seat, daring to get closer.
Olive doesn’t look up. She’s entirely focused on her drink and her phone. I wonder if she’s texting Joel. I draw closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the screen of her phone. But it’s too hard to see.
I look down at Olive’s Kate Spade purse slung over her chair. No, I don’t think it’s a real Kate Spade, but it’s a good knockoff. Her purse is hanging open, and her wallet is sticking out. What kind of New Yorker leaves her purse unattended like that? And not only is her wallet sticking out, but her keys are right on top too. Anyone could take them and she’d never know it.
Anyone.
Hmm.
Am I really considering this? Am I really considering stealing Olive’s keys right out of her purse? Of all the things I could do to her, it would definitely be one of the most unpleasant. There are a lot of keys on that ring, probably both for her business and her home. If I took them, she’d be screwed.
I look from side to side. Everyone in this store is distracted by their phones or laptops. Nobody is looking at me.
Before I can overthink it, I walk by Olive’s purse and swipe her keys. I shove them quickly into my coat pocket before anyone can see. Then I stride out of Starbucks, before anyone knows what I’ve done. It’s almost ridiculously easy.
I can’t believe I just did that. The exhilaration is overwhelming. Once I’m safely out of the store, I take out the ring of keys and look at them. I wonder what I should do with them. Toss them in the trash? Into the sewer?
And that’s when my eyes fall on the hardware store at the end of the block. There’s a neon sign in the window: We copy keys.
If I throw them away, she’ll change all her locks and get new keys. But if I copy them and slip the ring back into her purse…
I’m not really contemplating this, am I? Okay, I’ve done some pretty shitty things to Olive. But this crosses a line.
Yet I find myself walking over to the hardware store.
I’m holding my breath as I step inside the store. I don’t know what I’m doing. This is really illegal. Stealing keys is bad enough, but now I’m copying them for the purpose of… well, I don’t know what purpose yet. And I’m not absolutely certain nobody saw me swiping the keys. What if someone saw it and is calling the police right now? If that’s the case, I shouldn’t be lingering around the crime scene.
“You need a key copied, Miss?” the man at the counter asks me. He’s as old as my father, with thinning hair on his scalp and glasses perched so far down the bridge of his nose, they look like a light breeze might send them flying.
“Uh…” I look down at the set of keys. Am I really going to do this? “Yes.”
I guess I am.
“Which one?”
I frown at the keys. Which one is her home key? Is there a label on it?
“Or do you want the whole set copied?” he asks me.
“Yes, the whole set,” I agree. “How long will it take?”
“Oh, I bet I can get it done in two minutes flat.” He flashes yellowing teeth at me. “You want to time me?”
“That’s okay.” I slide the keys across the counter. “I’m sure you can do it.”
My heart is pounding in my chest as he runs the keys through the cutter. He’s very fast, but it almost feels like he’s moving in slow-motion. He’s on the third key when the door to the entrance jingles, and I look up.
A police officer has just entered the store.
If my heart was pounding before, now it’s thumping erratically. Oh God, he knows I’ve stolen the keys. He’s going to arrest me. Joel is going to think I’m a psychopath.
The officer looks at me with dark, penetrating eyes and adjusts the cap on his head. I squirm. I must look so guilty. He must be able to take one look at me and know I’ve committed a crime. I’m committing a crime. I’m in the middle of committing it right now. Right in front of a police officer!
“Excuse me, miss,” the officer says to me.
Oh God. I’m going to jail. He’s going to snap handcuffs on me and haul me off to prison. What is my mother going to say about this in the yearly Christmas letter?
“Yes?” I squeak.
Is there any possibility I could just return the keys and wholeheartedly apologize?
“I think you dropped your hat back there,” the officer says.
My eyes fall on the dark red hat lying on the ground right by the entrance to the store. It is, in fact, my hat. “Oh…”
“Here, let me get that for you…”
The officer rushes out to pick up my hat from the ground while I nearly drop dead of a heart attack. I thank him, and then he disappears into the store.
My hands won’t stop shaking as I take the fresh set of keys from the clerk. He’s put them on a ring for me and everything. I can’t believe how easy this was. I have stolen and copied an entire set of keys. I will casually drop the originals back into Olive’s bag, and she will be none the wiser.
And now I have a set of her keys.
Chapter 21: The New Girl
It’s only a week before the end of October when Cassie is sitting at the front desk in Bookland and receives an email from Lydia:
We’re having a party at our apartment next weekend. Costumes are mandatory.
Cassie frowns at the email. She’s gotten many party invitations over the years, but this doesn’t feel like a party invitation. It feels more like when her parents threw a party when she was a kid and she was expected to be there. Like costumes, the party seems to be mandatory.
“What’s wrong?” Zoe asks her, looking up from her latest novel. This one has a picture of a shirtless man on it. Why do so many covers have shirtless men on them? Sometimes Cassie wants to scream at Zoe’s book: Put some clothes on, for God’s sake!
“I got invited to a Halloween party,” Cassie says.
“Wow, how horrible. Sucks to be you.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “It’s being thrown by that obnoxious wife of Joel’s friend—the one I told you about. And I think I’m required to go.”
She holds up her phone so Zoe can read the email. Zoe throws her head back and laughs so hard, Cassie can see a silver filling in the back of her mouth. Zoe always says she wants to get a gold or silver tooth someday.
“She sounds lovely,” Zoe says. “What does Joel say about the party?”
Cassie winces. “They’re his closest friends. I’m assuming he wants to go…”
Zoe folds a page in her book and puts it down on the counter. “Well, it’s not so bad. At least you get to dress up. That’s fun.”
“I can’t afford a costume right now.”
“Don’t be silly. Just go as a sexy cat. I’ve got a leotard you can borrow.”
“I can’t go as a sexy cat!”
“Why not?”
Cassie doesn’t have the energy to explain that when you go to a party with people ten years older than you, it doesn’t look good to put on your sexiest, sluttiest outfit. “I just can’t.”
“So what do you want to dress as?”
Cassie chews on her lip as she mentally reviews some of the costumes she’s worn over years. A sexy pumpkin. A sexy policewoman. Sexy Wonder Woman. She’s been a sexy cat twice.
None of these costumes would be appropriate for Lydia’s party. She needs to dress much classier than that. But what?
After agonizing about it for several minutes, she finally types a reply:
Any costume suggestions for me?
Cassie waits for a couple of minutes before Lydia’s reply pops up on the screen:
What about Cleopatra?
&
nbsp; “Lydia says I should go as Cleopatra,” Cassie announces.
Zoe purses her lips as she considers it. “Yes, I like it. And you won’t have to spend much money. I’ve got a white dress that would be perfect. And this great gold belt. Ooh, and I can do your makeup!”
“All right.” Cassie is warming to the idea. “I guess I’ll go as Cleopatra.”
The door jingles as a customer enters the store. Cassie smiles, putting on her game face. But then her game face falls when she sees a policeman wander into the store. For a moment, it feels like a fist is gripping her throat.
Maybe he’s here to follow-up on the vandalism.
The officer is in his thirties, with tight black curls clinging to his skull. He walks right up to the counter and Cassie instinctively takes a step back. She glances at Zoe, who is still holding her book but has lifted her eyes. But unlike Cassie, there’s no fear on Zoe’s face. There’s nothing for her to be afraid of.
Cassandra Donovan? You’re under arrest.
“Hello there, ladies,” the officer says.
“Hello,” Cassie croaks.
“I was just wondering,” he says. “You got any of those Junie B. Jones books? My daughter loves them.”
Her shoulders sag in relief. He’s not here to take her away. He just wants to buy some reading material for his kid. But she can’t shake the feeling that one of these days, the policeman will be coming here with a warrant for her arrest.
Chapter 22: The Ex
Window shopping isn’t working out exactly as I’d hoped.
The concept is that I try on clothing for fun, and then leave without buying anything. This is supposed to help me save money (or at least dig myself out of credit card debt) so that I can eventually not be living with my grandmother. But it’s harder to do that than I’d thought. Whenever I try on something really sexy, I imagine the look on Joel’s face when he sees me in it. And then a minute later, I’m at the cash register.
Why is clothing so expensive anyway? One could easily spend a month’s rent at one of these stores without blinking an eye. Especially if you throw in shoes. And it’s not like you can buy a dress without buying shoes too.
So that’s why today I will not buy anything. I don’t care how much this sexy green dress highlights my boobs. And I’m definitely not buying these pumps to go with it, no matter how long they make my stubby legs look.
As I hold the green dress in my hand, mentally forcing myself to put it back in the rack, I notice a woman is staring at me. She’s wearing a stylish black leather coat and her hair is in a sensible bob, and she’s got one hand on a stroller that holds an adorable little boy. The boy’s soft blond curls make my ovaries eject three eggs at once. I can feel it happening.
I always wondered what the children Joel and I would have would look like. Not blond, certainly. I imagined they would have his blue eyes and my dark hair. Of course, at this rate, I’ll be lucky if I find someone to marry in time to have kids. The dream of becoming a mother seems as out of reach as this horribly expensive dress.
The woman keeps staring at me, her brow furrowed, which is making me a bit uncomfortable. At first, I can’t figure out why she’s looking at me, but then something jogs my memory. From years ago.
“Are you…?” the woman starts to say to me.
“Hi, Melissa,” I say.
It all comes back to me now. Melissa was dating Joel’s med school classmate Greg. They started going out around the same time Joel and I did, actually. But we lost touch after Joel graduated and his classmates all went their separate ways. Melissa and I were always friendly, but not quite friends. Not the way Lydia and I used to be.
“I thought you looked familiar!” Melissa’s face relaxes in recognition. “God, it’s been ages, hasn’t it? You look great.”
“So do you.” Melissa is a good fifteen pounds heavier than she was back then, but it suits her. She looks pretty and happy. Whereas I’m too thin, in spite of all the cooking I’ve done lately. My cheekbones jut out so much, I might injure someone inadvertently during a routine hug. And lately, my lips feel like they’re pulled down into a permanent frown.
“So what’s new?” I ask her. I look down at the precious little boy in the stroller, who is currently peeling his socks from his tiny feet. “Other than the obvious, of course.”
Melissa laughs. “Well, you remember Greg, right? We got married a couple of years ago. And little Owen came along last year.” She ruffles the little boy’s hair lovingly. He blows a raspberry and my ovaries shoot out two more eggs. “How about you? You always talked about starting your own restaurant. Are you… did you…?”
I nod. “Yes, I did. A little Italian place.”
“Oh, that’s amazing!” Melissa claps her hands together. “And what about Joel? Are you two still together?”
My stomach sinks. I should have left this store the second I recognized Melissa. “Yes, we are. In fact…” I swallow. “We just got engaged!”
“Oh, that’s amazing!” Melissa’s eyes light up for a moment, but then they drop. I’m not sure what she’s looking at, until I see the line between her gaze and my left hand.
“I’m having the ring resized,” I say quickly, squeezing my left hand into a fist. “But honestly, I’m scared to wear it. The diamond is just so big.”
It’s not like Melissa will ever find out the truth. We haven’t seen Melissa and Greg in years. I may as well enjoy telling one person about the engagement I’ll never have. About my diamond that is just too damn big. It’s a victimless crime.
“Greg was just talking about Joel the other day, actually,” Melissa says. “We should have you guys over.” She glances at her towheaded little boy, who has somehow gone from undressing himself to being completely passed out in the last few seconds. “I’ll have Greg send him a text or something.”
My mouth suddenly feels like it’s full of paste. “Wonderful. We would love that.”
She glances down at the dress I’m still clutching in my hand. “I’m heading to checkout. Are you buying that now?”
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.
Oh, what the hell.
I get in line just ahead of Melissa, because she’s still deciding between two pairs of pants. She holds up one of them and sighs. “This one is just the tiniest bit tight, but that will motivate me to lose weight. Right?”
“You don’t need to lose weight. You look great.”
She shakes her head. “I absolutely do need to lose weight. Unlike you. God, what’s your secret?”
Getting dumped so I completely lose my appetite. I don’t say that though. “Good genes, I guess.”
I lay the painfully expensive dress down on the checkout counter along with the shoes. I absolutely shouldn’t be buying these things, but they look so good. If Joel sees me in this dress, he’ll forget all about Olive. I’m sure of it. And you can’t put a price tag on love.
The girl at the checkout counter scans my items as she loudly chews on her gum. I hand over my credit card to swipe, and she looks at the cash register, her eyebrows bunched together.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Mascolo,” she says. “It says here your card has been declined.”
My mouth falls open. I know I’d been charging a lot of things lately, but not that much. Have I?
I guess you can put a price tag on love. And I can’t afford it.
I glance behind me. Is there any chance Melissa didn’t hear that? But no. Her eyes are conspicuously avoiding mine.
“Do you have another payment method?” the girl asks me.
“I… I think I left my other credit card at home,” I mumble. I finger the card she’s handed back to me. “It’s got to be some mistake though. I can’t possibly…”
Well, I could possibly.
“I’m sorry,” the girl says again, shrugging helplessly. “But if you don’t have another way to pay…”
“Right.” I shove my useless credit card back into my wallet. “Well, I’ll have to phone the credit c
ard company… figure out how they made such a bad mistake! So inconvenient.” I say this last one for Melissa’s benefit. She’s now made herself very busy looking through her diaper bag. “Anyway, Melissa… I better go. I have to call the credit card company and figure out how this could have happened.”
Am I talking too loud? I feel like I’m talking very, very loud. I can’t seem to control it though.
“Yes, of course,” she murmurs.
“Why don’t I have Joel send Greg a text message,” I say.
She nods. “Yes. Perfect.”
But her eyes are on my left hand. She gets it. She knows Joel and I aren’t engaged. She knows everything I told her is a lie. She’s not excited to see me again. All she feels is sorry for me.
Chapter 23: The New Girl
“You look smoking hot,” Zoe declares when she steps back to examine the makeup she’s been applying to Cassie’s face. “Really sexy.”
Cassie looks at herself in the vanity mirror in her bathroom. Zoe found a photo of Katy Perry in the music video for “Dark Horse” and has been using it as a guide for how to do her Cleopatra makeup. And Cassie has to admit that Zoe did a fantastic job. Her eyes are lined with black, with sparkly purple and gold on her eyelids. The dark purple lips complete the picture.
“You did a great job,” Cassie says.
“And the dress fits you perfectly.”
Cassie steps back to look at the white dress Zoe lent her to complete the look. It does fit very well—that’s not the problem. The problem is the huge slit in the side of the dress that goes nearly up to her hip. This is most definitely a sexy Cleopatra costume. It wouldn’t have been what Cassie would wear if she could afford to buy her own costume, but nothing in her own closet fits the bill. If she doesn’t wear this dress, her only other option is sexy cat.
Zoe’s eyes light up. “This gives me a great idea for the bookstore.”
“What’s that?”
“An erotica section!”
Cassie nearly starts choking. “An… erotica section?”
The Ex Page 11