Page 3 of Brazen Deceits

I hear shuffling from the top of the stairs. “Are you sure about that, Clara?”

Trips trails his voice down the stairs, first with his red-bottomed Oxford shoes, followed by his perfectly pressed gray dress pants, and finally by his broad chest barely contained in his black button-down shirt. He looks like money.

It’s easy to forget heismoney when I see him shoveling half-warmed leftovers in his mouth over the kitchen island every morning. But he comes with more money and more problems than anyone I know—and he’s shared exactly one of them with me. Thank goodness the other guys filled me in on the basics, or I’d think he’s just an asshole. I mean, he is an asshole, but at least he’s come by it honestly.

Jansen and I exchange a look, and despite years of experience breaking the law, he looks guilty as fuck. And we only kissed. He really must take this doorman gig seriously. I guess it’s my job to save him from Trips’ anger.

“You wouldn’t kill me, Trips. You’d miss me. Who else would you glare at over breakfast?” I flash him my brightest grin.

I swear I see a hint of an eye roll before he steps close to Jansen, half blocking my view of him. “I didn’t expect to see you out of your room, Clara. Don’t you have midterms to study for?” he asks, knowing full well we have the same midterm on Monday and that we are competing for the top score in that class.

Come Monday, I’m totally going to hand him his ass on a textbook-lined platter.

I shrug, not clueing him in to my intentions (although I’m sure he already knows I plan on kicking his butt—academically, of course). “I was hungry,” I say instead.

“Then you should be in the kitchen, not the front hallway,” he replies.

“But there’s sushi upstairs.”

“Sushi meant for paying guests. Not for bedraggled roommates.”

I glance down at my giant t-shirt and sweatpants. Definitely not swank enough for sushi and illegal poker. I lean back against the wall, conceding a point on that volley. “I clean up pretty. Invite me upstairs,” I say, not knowing if this is a dare or a dumb move.

Trips ignores me, turning to Jansen. “Where are we at?” he asks.

“We have two guests outstanding. Summer, of course, and Tran.”

Trips glances at his watch, which is an actual physical watch on his wrist, like an old man. He’s really playing it up for the people upstairs, isn’t he?

“Okay, give it ten more minutes, then lock and bar the door. I’m sick of starting late because Summer can’t decide which car matches her shoes.”

“Got it,” Jansen says.

Trips saunters back up the stairs. His shoes are almost out of sight when they pause. “Clara, if you’re black-tie ready when Jansen locks up, you can come up.”

“Really?” I squeal.

“You’ll be within a handbreadth of one of us at all times. And we may kick you out at a moment’s notice. But you can come up and eat the sushi.”

“Sushi, sushi, sushi,” I chant, mostly to get a rise out of Trips. Jansen chuckles, able to see my sushi dance in the kitchen doorway.

“Tick tock, Clara. Nine minutes,” Trips says, his shoes stomping the rest of the way upstairs.

I take a moment to blow Jansen a kiss, then bolt to my room to get ready.

What in the world are you supposed to wear when you’re invited to an illegal gambling ring in your attic so you can eat free sushi? This is going to be tough.

I’ve just barely finished swiping on my mascara when Jansen taps on the bathroom door. “Come in,” I call.

The door pushes open, Jansen leaning against the frame. He looks at me from head to toe and back up again. “Solid work in nine minutes. You’re absolutely stunning.”

One glance in the mirror verifies I’m blushing. I poke some fun earrings in, shaking my head to make sure the dark mass tied on top of it will stay put. My black dress is polyester, and my booties are scuffed, but I think I’ll pass muster as long as no one looks too closely. And why would they? I’m a nobody, I’m not playing, and I plan on stuffing my face and disappearing. I give myself one last glance, wiping away a bit of lipstick that escaped the margins of my lips in my rush, then shoot Jansen a smile.

“Do you think I’ll get in trouble?” I ask.

“With who?”

I shrug. “With anyone?”

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