Page 2 of His Pretty Little Thief

Simone

One week earlier:

“Wait, you can’t be serious.”

I stare at Bianca, my jaw halfway to the floor to join the purse I’ve just dropped there. In front of me, standing right outside what only this morning was her thrifty but fully furnished room in our tiny two-bedroom Hell’s Kitchen apartment, is my roommate and three brand new suitcases. The bags are all Coach, and her clothes are better than anything I’ve ever seen her wear before. Oh, and the aforementioned room is bare down to the stained walls and worn-down hardwood floor.

“Look, Simone, its just—”

“You’re moving?”

I blink, shaking my head as I try and process what she’s just said when I walked in to find her like this. My feet are killing me from my shitty job at the coffee bar, the fresh burn on my thumb from the shitty espresso machine throbbing under the Band-Aid I’ve slapped over it. It’s been a shit day, in a shit month, and coming home to find that my roommate and only friend since I moved here is moving out is pretty much the cherry on top of a shit-flavored ice-cream sundae.

“Where?”

She bites her lip, her eyes darting around nervously. “I, uh, I got a new place, and the move-in date is today.”

“I’m really confused here,” I say slowly, frowning at her. “You were totally broke, like, a month ago.”

Ever since I moved to New York and met her, Bianca’s been as paycheck-to-paycheck as me. Actually, a month ago she was more than broke, and I had to cover a portion of her rent. And here we are, a matter of weeks later, and not only is she moving out, but she’s dressed in top-of-the-line fashion and packing her stuff into thousand-dollar suitcases.

“Simone,” she smiles wryly, pushing her dark brown hair out of her face. “I know it’s sudden, but I’m not just leaving you hanging, I swear. There’s a check on the fridge for four months’ rent and utilities, plus what I owe you from last month.”

My brows arch somehow even higher than they already are.

“But you were broke,” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

“I was,” she says quietly.

“Did you win the lottery or something?”

She bites her lip. “No…”

“Bianca—”

“I can’t really talk about it, okay?” She swallows, dropping her eyes away from mine.

“It’s just this new job.”

My brows knit. “A new job that you can’t tell me about?”

She blushes, looking at what look like brand new Louboutins on her feet.

“Bianca, come on! What’s with all the secrecy?”

She swallows thickly, the heat booming on her face as she looks back up at me, almost shyly.”

“Simone—”

I shake my head. “Were you seriously just going to leave while I was at work?”

Her lips twist. “Maybe?”

I groan. “Dude, what’s your deal?”

Bianco groans, her shoulders slumping. I watch the battle twist inside of her before she finally takes a deep breath and looks at me with a blush on her cheeks.

“Okay, this is a total secret, okay?”

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