Page 8 of Brazen Criminals

“Then why are you looking for a roommate?”

RJ looks down at his shoes, then back at me. “Security.”

I’m just about to ask what he means, but his phone buzzes. After glancing at it, RJ turns and leads me back to the living room. I follow, feeling like I’ve just been tossed onto a balance beam, but not really knowing why. Off-kilter.

Something is weird here, but I’m not sure it matters, does it? A room is a room. I get my own bathroom, and from the look of it, my own floor too, more or less.

Trips and Jansen are both standing when we come in, some sort of silent argument flashing between them before Trips flops into the chair, and Jansen moves to the other side of the coffee table, grinning as he sits on the ground. Walker slips his phone into his pocket and rests his ankle on his knee, leaning toward me as I settle back on the couch.

“So Clara, why so late looking for housing?” he asks.

“I had other plans, but they fell through,” I say. There’s no need to go into my personal life. We’re just going to be roommates.

Trips huffs. “Flighty or failed to plan?”

The edge of anger nips at my words. “Neither. I had a plan, and I had full intention of following through. My roommate was the flighty one.”

“Then why are you the one left homeless?” Trips asks.

“Because I couldn’t afford the rent solo. He could. So here I am.” I take a sip of the water Jansen got for me. “Why are you looking for a roommate so late? Poor planning?” I raise a brow at Trips, my bottled anger from this complete wreck of a morning flaring.

Jansen and Walker both laugh, but Walker answers. “We had a change in our situation and thought having some security might be helpful.”

There’s that word again. Security. Like, financial security? That makes the most sense. Before I can ask for clarification, Jansen blurts out, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

I look at him, confused. “Yes. Why?”

Trips raises an eyebrow. “Good. The last thing we need is drama.”

Gosh. This guy is just a total ass. “Do you really think that all single women are drama machines? Sexist much?” I scoff. “I can keep to myself, can you? If you can’t, then I’m out of here,” I spit out. So much anger, just looking for a target. Luckily, this Trips jerk looks like he can handle it.

RJ turns his intense gaze onto Trips. “Would it kill you to use those manners your daddy paid for every once in a while? Damn.”

Jansen stands up and wipes his hands on his pants, glaring at Trips before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, Clara. We really would love to have you. You can ignore Trips. We all do.”

Trips grunts. And I’m fiddling with the hem of my shirt again. Do I really want to do this? The room is really nice for the price. A full bathroom to myself with a bathtub? That’s something I never would have imagined possible at this price point, let alone in a last-minute rental.

These guys though—do I want to live with them? On the upside, they seem to be clean and not interested in “drama,” whatever that means. On the downside, I’m pretty sure Trips hates me on principle. RJ is cold and Walker is flirty. At least Jansen seems nice and safe.

Walker bumps my shoe again, a half smile twisting one side of his mouth. “Come on, it’ll be an adventure,” he says.

I don’t know why that’s the tipping point, but it is. An adventure sounds…nice. It sounds like I might get to take a deep breath instead of holding it all in. It sounds, honestly, close to paradise.

“Okay. I’m in,” I say.

Trips pulls a contract out of his back pocket, Jansen hands me a pen, and I sign the sublease agreement, passing over the first month’s rent in cash from my purse. Walker raises an eyebrow, but I don’t elaborate. They’ll figure out I live off shitty coffee tips and nannying money soon enough.

As I head out the front door, Jansen stops me. “Hey, I forgot to ask. What’s your major?”

I smile, the first full smile I’ve had during this weird meet and greet. “Oh! I’m a junior criminology major,” I say as I step out the door. Jansen gives me a quiet, “Cool,” before the door clicks shut behind me. I grimace as I look out over the front lawn. Moving twice in the same morning is bullshit, but what other choice do I have? I wipe my palms on my shorts and tread back to the bus stop. Time for moving, part two.

Chapter 3

Trips

Jansentakesthegirlout the front. God. Some random chick is going to live here. I get we need the fake normalcy, that adding to the house will make us look cleaner, that a girl is probably the best cover we can get. But really, this is who we’re inviting into our house?

If she has giggly girlfriends over all the time, I will lose my shit. She and her boyfriend better not have crazy loud sex all the time either. I can’t believe we agreed to do this. I clench the sublease contract in my fist, wishing I could tear it in half.

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