Page 37 of Brazen Mistakes

“What are you talking about?”

Trips hovers just over my shoulder, almost like a bodyguard, as I stop in front of my manager. “My ex-boyfriend is escalating, and it’s not safe for me to be alone. I know you could schedule me for busy times, but I just don’t see it working with my life right now. And I don’t want to make scheduling annoying or take all the good shifts from everyone else.”

“Oh. That’s…are you okay?”

Carrie’s a good boss. She doesn’t deserve me leaving her high and dry like this. But Trips is right. I have too much to learn in not nearly enough time. And apparently enough money that this job is suddenly unnecessary. “I am. For now. But, yeah, it’s a little scary. And I just don’t think I can risk it.”

She looks from me to Trips, noting the way he guards my back, the stiffness in him as he watches me talk my way out of my employment.

“I get it. How long should I keep you off the schedule? You have a restraining order. The cops will get him in line, right?”

A bitter bark of laughter is all that I can manage, Trips filling in as I try to keep my anger from flaring. “They’re the ones who let the bastard back onto the streets.”

The anger that roils in me, growing bigger, stronger, louder than I ever could have imagined back when I was still with Bryce, this part of me I’d tried to pretend didn’t exist, it screams. But I hold it in.

Carrie blinks quickly before coming around the counter, no barrier between us. “That’s bullshit. I’m sorry.”

I shrug, still not in control of myself.

“For what it’s worth, you’re the best employee I’ve had in the six years I’ve been managing this place. You’ll be missed.”

I swallow an unexpected urge to cry. “Thanks.”

We stare at each other for a moment before I turn back to the door. “Keep the place together, Carrie. And don’t let Jen get away with her shit every day. She’s playing you at least half the time.”

“Don’t I know it.”

With one last half smile, I push through the door, Trips beside me, another part of my old life abandoned.

It’s time to learn to be a crook.

Chapter 14

Clara

Walker, Jansen, and I spend the rest of the afternoon playing two truths and a lie. I didn’t expect a “getting to know you” game to be part of my criminal training, but really, how would I know what helps and what doesn’t?

Watching Jansen try to lie is adorable. Walker was right—Jansen is exactly who he is. The only times he tricks us are when he stays close to the truth, like when he says he’d stolen his first car at twelve, when apparently, he’d been thirteen.

Walker even lets out some of his past during the game, and I learn more about his brothers and parents than I ever thought he’d share. It’s not anything deep or world altering, but it’s something. Knowing that his eldest brother was born only months after his parents moved to the US, or that he’d quit going to Korean language classes when he was eleven,these tiny details feel like a window into his past, letting me in just a little more.

The best story he shared detailed how he’d sneak out to go to parties in high school, but got caught once when he was seventeen. He was grounded for a full month for that one.

The weirdest information I got was finding out that Jansen can play the banjo, guitar, and sing (duh), and that Walker plays the cello.

I convinced them both that I took piano lessons when I was nine.

Really, all I’ve ever done on a piano is fail to plunk out “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” while hiding from a game of spin the bottle at a middle school birthday party.

If thirteen-year-old Clara could see twenty-year-old Clara, she’d be horrified. Or maybe a little impressed.

I’m okay with that.

At the end of the night, Trips joins us, bringing a bottle of whiskey into the living room, passing it around without glasses. His truths are bare-bones, and his lies are the same. The only thing of substance I learned is that Trips hates apricots. Not much to go on there.

“You want to learn to play poker, too?” Trips asks after another round of Jansen losing with a lie about a fictional childhood dog that was just too boring to be true.

I perch on the coffee table across from Trips, Jansen crawling behind me with a dejected groan, and Walker sliding into the corner of the couch to stay close. I’m surrounded, and I love it. Trips hands the bottle to Walker, who downs a swallow before passing it to Jansen.

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