Page 15 of The Love Bandits

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” I say to Jake, throwing a wave at him as if I wasn’t trying to suck his beautiful lips off his sexy face twenty minutes ago. He looks like he has whiplash, but I refuse to be sorry for giving it to him—I’ll bet Cleo had whiplash when her gorgeous, sexy faced boyfriend cheated on her and then stole her necklace.

But he recovers quickly and calls out, “Hopefully not,” as I shut the door behind me.

Well, screw him.

I wish I could see his face when he opens that necklace case and finds it empty, but I’ll have to settle for knowing that I ruined his night.

A couple of people are standing directly in front of the stairway, talking, and one of them is wearing a lanyard and badge that suggests she might work here. She could take offense to seeing a cat in this no-pets-allowed building, so I quickly veer in the other direction. I hurry down the hall with the can of cat food extended like a lure, and I’m almost at the stairs at the opposite end when I bump into an older woman with a kindly face and a mass of blonde and white hair loosely gathered at the nape of her neck. She looks like a model GMO companies would put on boxes of cereal bars so they can fool people into thinking they’re healthy.

“Oh, dear,” she says. “You wouldn’t happen to be Elaine, would you?”

I nearly drop the cat food but settle for nodding.

“This is for you, dear. I used to get some very aggressive menses too.” She holds out a little packet of tea…and I take it with my free hand and stuff it into my pocket with the necklace.

The part of my brain that is not currently occupied with the worst getaway attempt in human history registers that Jake actually asked around about tampons for me. So he’s a tool, but at least he’s not afraid of Aunt Flow, unlike ninety percent of the men I’ve ever met.

“You know…” she adds. “I thought I knew everyone in this building, but I’ve never met you before.” She glances down at Professor X and does a doubletake. I’m sure I’m about to get lectured about the building rules, but she looks down the hallway before asking in an undertone, “You found Trixie?”

“Her name is Trixie?”

“Yes.” She stoops as if to pet the cat, but Trixie hisses at her.

If the older woman minds, she doesn’t let it show. Shaking her head, she says, “She belonged to the man who lived in 2D, but he left her behind when they moved. No one knew, so she was in there for days.” She shakes her head, then adds, “But that was months ago, before your friend moved in.”

“How could someone do that?” I ask, affronted. From what I can tell, this cat has two personality modes: overly clingy and raging, but maybe that’s because the person she loved tried to destroy her.

“I never liked him,” she says conspiratorially. “He said my rooibos tea gave him diarrhea.”

Note to self: discard the menses tea.

“Well, thank you. I know we’re not allowed to have cats in this building, but I found her outside, and I’m not going to abandon her again. I’ll move if I have to.”

I only said that to help explain why Joy will never, ever see me again, but she beams at me, and guilt skitters across my skin like a spider. I don’t like lying to nice people, like Marjorie Eccles or Joy. Lies should be reserved for other liars. For the kind of people who use words like weapons, to hurt and destroy and trick.

For people like me and Jake.

Then Joy’s eyes narrow on the cat formerly known as Trixie—because there’s no way I’m going to let the man who abandoned her have the privilege of giving her a name, particularly not a name with so little dignity. She’s a professor, dammit. I just promoted her.

“What’s that on her side?” Joy asks, squinting.

I don’t feel like getting into an explanation about the glue trap, particularly not since Jake is probably even now combingthrough the mess in his bedroom. Any minute now, he’ll open that drawer…

Then a car horn beeps outside the building. Nicole’s car horn?

“Thanks for the tea,” I call out and run toward the stairwell, the open food can extended. Professor X runs after me, thank God, and vaults down the stairs like an Olympic gymnast.

CHAPTER SIX

LAINEY

It’s Friday afternoon, four days after the emergency vet had to fully sedate Professor X to remove the glue trap, which cost more than what Cleo had paid me to recover the necklace. But the cat seemed grateful for it, and she’s warming up more toward me every day. She only hissed at me twice this morning—once when I failed to produce her food in a timely manner, and again when I made the mistake of touching the shorn spot where she got glue-trapped. Now, I’m at my day job, assisting Mrs. Rosings of Smith House—the largest estate in Marshall, an enormous airy mansion that still manages to feel stuffy. It’s the largest private residence in Marshall, which would be more impressive if most of the houses weren’t one-story bungalows.

I left the necklace with Nicole, and she and I have arranged to meet Cleo in our office at the cabin after work to hand over the goods. It’s hard to be patient, because I’d rather be there, not here. My heart’s not in this well-paid, poorly defined job—and from the way Mrs. Rosings is glaring at me from across the table in her velvet-encrusted drawing room, she knows it.

This is another opportunity I fell into. Claire got her bakery, and I got her former job as Mrs. Rosings’s personal assistant.Mrs. Rosings has made it very clear that she doesn’t think much of me, but at least our resentment is mutual.

Claire likes the older woman a lot and thinks she’s just lonely and bored, with a sharp brain that’s underutilized.

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