Page 14 of The Love Bandits

He took this necklace from Cleo, and now I’m going to steal it back for her. Fair is fair. And sure, he’s going to know it was the crazy lady with the cat, but he could hardly report me to the police when he stole the necklace himself. Even if he did, he doesn’t know anything about me other than my legal first name.

I remove the necklace from the box, stuffing it into my shorts pocket, and then return the box to the book and the book to the drawer.

I’m about to clean up the mess I made in the other drawers, but it occurs to me that I shouldn’t. It’ll take him longer to notice the missing necklace if the rest of the room is a horror show. So I start scooping clothes out of the drawer and throwing them everywhere. A T-shirt over the lamp. A pair of pants strewn over the bed. A real clothes murder scene. I reach for the bottom left drawer, for the sketchbooks, and then…don’t.

I tell myself it’s because it’ll tip him off to check the necklace box sooner rather than later, and not because I like his drawings.

The damage done, I exit through the bedroom door, shutting it behind me.

And slam right into Jake. A jolt shakes me before I regain my senses enough to take a step back, but his shirt is left with an imprint of my boobs…because I didn’t change out of the beer-soaked shirt.

He looks at me in obvious bafflement—

I was in there for at least twenty minutes, and I’m still wearing the same shirt.

“I got distracted by all the blood,” I explain. “It was like a murder scene in my pants.”

He lifts his brows. I can’t tell whether he’s disgusted or just unaccustomed to women speaking like this to him. “Uh. Ohh-kay. Sorry, no tampons. Joy in 2G said her monthly visitor stopped coming twenty years ago. But she offered to pack up some menses tea for you. Apparently she makes it for a small business, so that’s good news, I guess.”

I study him for a second too long. Does he actually have a neighbor named Joy, or is this some kind of test, to see if I say something like,“Yes, that sounds like Joy, all right,”so he can catch me in a lie?

“Well, thanks for asking,” I say breezily. “I think I’d better go take care of that situation. A wad of toilet paper will only last for so long.”

I’d wanted to see him flinch, so I’m gratified when he does. I feel a little…testy after finding the necklace like that, hidden away in a book, as if he can conceal his shame. Heshouldbe made to feel uncomfortable, and I’m happy to take on that duty for all of womankind.

Crouching down, I call to Professor X, feeling Jake’s gaze on me. “Come here, kitty, kitty. Come here, Professor X.”

“Cats don’t typically come when called,” he says, doubt layered into his voice.

“She’s an exception,” I insist as she hisses at us, pawing at the glue trap. There’s no reason for me to be nice to him anymore—all the better if we get out of his apartment sooner rather than later—so I add, “When she doesn’t have an arcane torture trap attached to her side.”

“You’re blaming me for this?” he asks in disbelief.

I lift my chin. “Yes. It’s cruel to kill mice that way. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are you going to tell me whose cat just destroyed my pillow and scratched my arm? Because she sure as hell isn’t yours.”

“Howdareyou,” I seethe, getting caught up in the lie.

“Just go,” he says, swearing, then sweeps his fingers through his hair. I have a vivid memory of those strong hands tracing up my thighs and squeezing my hip. God, why do jerks have to be so capable with their hands?

“Gladly,” I say as I take a step toward the cat. She hisses and bares her teeth at me. Shit, how am I supposed to get her out of here and to a vet?

“I might need a little—”

“Use the last can of food,” he says, sounding exhausted. “She’s obviously starving.”

There’sdefinitelyan accusation in his tone this time.

“I told you, she went on a walkabout.” For some reason I really don’t want him to think I’d mistreat an animal in my care. I assure myself it has nothing to do with him, personally, I’d feel the same way about anyone.

I retrieve the food from under the sink, take the cover off, and sure enough, Professor X comes to me, mewing with discontent before she takes another swipe at the glue trap. I can’t Pied Piper her all the way to a vet, though, can I?

I guess I don’t need to—just out to Nicole’s car.

Presuming Nicole lets me bring a stray cat into her car…and agrees to take us to the vet.

Honestly, it doesn’t seem like something she’d do willingly—she’s not the bleeding heart type—but maybe I can use this story as leverage. She’ll think it’s funny, obviously, and want every gruesome detail.

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