Page 16 of Brazen Criminals

“So, do you want to do the full walk-through? Or just go straight to the mattresses?” I ask.

Clara finishes her cocoa and tosses it into one of the garbage cans inside the door. “Your car is full of my stuff. I’m not sure how we’ll even fit a mattress in there, let alone other stuff.”

She weaves through the checkouts, totally disregarding the carefully etched arrows directing customers, and my rebel heart rejoices. She dodges around other shoppers until she finds what must be the cheapest queen-sized mattress in the place, wrapped up like a churro in plastic.

“Shoot, we need a cart,” she says, looking around. Her pigtails are falling out, her eyes puffy from crying, and I can feel the nasty glares pointed at me, like it’s my fault she’s upset. The hum in my chest is turning into a roar.

“I’ll grab one. Why don’t you look at the ‘As Is’ section and see if they have anything else you might like. I’ll meet you there.”

She seems shocked at the offer. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” I say, heading back to the front to snag a cart. On the way, I do a bump lift of a wallet from a man with a mullet—anyone with taste that bad needs a wake-up call—and shove it into my pocket. It hardly soothes the buzzing.

Once I have the cart and the mattress, I find Clara over by the discontinued curtains. “Are there any coverings on the windows in my room?” she asks.

“I have no idea. I’ll call RJ and ask him to check, if it’s okay he goes into your room.”

“That would be great!” She fingers some curtains with floral patterns and birds, her eyes drifting from them to the busy warehouse.

I pull out my phone and call RJ. He’s the only one who will answer—the other guys are more “text when I get a chance” people.

On the third ring, he picks up. “Hey.”

“Hey. Clara and I are at IKEA. Do you know if her room has any blinds or anything?”

There’s some rustling and a huff. “I’ll check.”

I wait, watching Clara pick up a pink lamp and set it back down. “Nope, no curtains. She’ll need some.”

“Okay. Thanks for checking.”

“Jansen, wait, don’t hang up yet. Aren’t you supposed to be helping Trips? Weren’t you supposed to be a fake waiter tonight?”

I turn and take a few steps away from Clara. “Yeah, I’m helping.”

RJ groans, and I know that I’ve messed up somehow. “Jansen, it’s 5:17.”

I freeze. I was supposed to be back at five to go over plans before the players started showing up. “Oh no. I’m on my way.”

I hang up on RJ, then call Walker. When he doesn’t pick up, I call him again. The third time, he answers. “Damn it, Jansen. I’m in the middle of something.”

“I lost track of time and need to be back to help Trips.”

“What’s new?” Walker sighs. “Do you need me to run interference?”

“No, but I do need you to come down to IKEA and pick up Clara.”

“I need to do what where now?”

“She needed a mattress. And apparently curtains. She’ll meet you in the pickup area.” I hang up before Walker can really yell at me.

Clara comes up behind me, the mattress churro weaving through the broken couches and chairs like a wino on a Friday night. “What’s the verdict? Do I need curtains?”

I turn around. “Yup. You need curtains.” I shift from foot to foot. “Also, I forgot I have a thing. Walker will meet you in the pickup area here in thirty minutes. He has a little orange SUV—you can’t miss it.”

Clara looks horrified. “You’re leaving me here?”

I shrug awkwardly and move away. I really messed up this time.

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