Page 70 of Brazen Mistakes

He grimaces. “I was thinking Summer.”

“Poker Summer? Sports cars and stilettos Summer? Jansen’s Summer?”

Trips’ eyes track Clara as she whispers something in RJ’s ear that makes him grin, a soft smile that I’ve never seen him point at anyone else. “Can you think of anyone better?”

I huff out a breath. “None of us have your connections. Unless we want to get Jasmine to fly in from Chicago to help Clara shop, I guess Summer is the next best option. Do you think she really knows enough about your world for this to work, though?”

“She can turn herself into whatever she needs to be. And I’ve seen her at a few of my father’s events this year. If anyone can get this right, it’s her.”

“Are you going to call? Or are you fobbing this off on Jansen?”

“I’m not using my phone for anything besides what I normally would. RJ checked it, but with my father, I’m worried he’ll subpoena my phone records or some shit, just to have more leverage over me.”

“Thank God for my mostly normal parents.”

“I’ve always known I was fucked, so nothing new there.”

I stutter out a sad laugh before calling Jansen over. Whatever shiny thing he’s got flashes between his fingers as he trots over. “What’s up?”

Trips moves to the collection of dresses we’ve already tried, obviously not wanting to ask for what we need. I guess this one’s on me. “We need help, and we’re thinking Summer might give it.”

Jansen immediately pulls his hair back into a ponytail. “And I have to call her?”

I shrug. “You know her best.”

“I knew her, man. When I was a kid tagging along with my cool older cousin and his girl. I don’t know this new Summer at all.”

“But you have her number?”

He sighs, looking at RJ and Clara curled up together, whispering, their faces serious. I follow his line of sight, wondering if he's telling her why he disappeared. RJ's slow with his words, but he's still capable of sharing what's on his mind. Unlike me. Even if I'm trying to do better.

Jansen's smile falters. “Yeah. I’ve got it. Unless she’s changed it in the last seven years. Which, you know, is totally possible.”

Trips shakes his head. “No, it’s the same number from when we werestarting the games.”

“Why am I doing this if you have the number?”

“Because my father is a sneaky shithead.”

Jansen’s face screws up, but he shakes out his arms before wandering to the main part of the store, phone to his ear. “Should we watch him so he doesn’t steal anything else?” I ask.

Trips shrugs. “I’ll leave extra cash to cover whatever he takes.”

“Not even you have that much cash in your pockets. He could take hundreds of thousands in jewelry and hairpins right now.”

Clara and RJ perk up at that, scooting closer. “Jansen’s stealing jewelry?” Clara asks, brows dipped, the circles under her eyes clearer as she approaches. RJ doesn’t look much better.

“Jansen’s calling in reinforcements. I don’t think he’d take anything more than a few thousand dollars’ worth of shit, and they can always chalk it up to shrinkage. If anything big goes missing, they’ll know it’s him. They’ve got cameras all over this place.” Trips turns back to the clothes, his face tight.

Clara’s face blanches. “A few thousand dollars? Oh my God. We’re going to jail.”

There’s a beat of silence before the three of us break into laughter. Because, really? Jansen picking up some sparkly hairpin has Clara freaking out about jail time? What about all the other laws she’s been breaking since she met us?

Jansen clicks the door to the room shut behind him, killing the laughter, his green eyes glinting with something wild that worries me. “She’s on her way.”

Clara holds out a hand, and after a long pause, Jansen pulls a bracelet from one of his pockets and sets it in her palm. She waits, and out comes a wallet, a man’s watch, and a tie pin.

“He was being an ass to one of the employees. He earned a bad day,” he explains, an unrepentant smirk on his face.

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