Page 9 of Dangerous Deceit

“We just gotta get through this job, and we won’t have to worry about this again,” Uncle Jay says.

I don’t like this one bit, but Uncle Jay’s face is already marked up; if I back out now, the pain will be for nothing. I can’t have that. Not when he took me in when I was a little girl. Not when he saved me from the foster care system.

He never had to take care of me, but he did. I owe him.

“We don’t ask you for much,” Patrick says right before he turns on the shower. He’s right. I’m usually tucked away in high-end hotel rooms while I click through social media profiles, finding our next target. I’m always safe while they’re out doing the heavy work, earning our money.

I sigh. “What do I have to do, anyway?”

“He’s sending some stylists in a few minutes,” Uncle Jay says, wincing at the pain. “That should be fun.”

“Like right now?”

Someone knocks on the door, shaking the whole motel room. I freeze. Patrick’s already in the shower, so I look at Uncle Jay, hoping he’ll answer it.

“He’s sending a makeup artist. Not some soldiers,” he says. “Go on. You’re a big girl. They aren’t going to bite.”

My heart pounds in my throat, but I swallow it down and walk a few steps over to the door. My chest is heavy as I reach for the handle.

I’m not doing this for my future husband.

I’m doing this for my family.

CHAPTER 6

VI

I openthe motel door and hold my breath. I almost close my eyes to brace for gunshots, but nothing happens.

Three women straighten in front of me. Plastic smiles grace their expressions.

Four tattooed men in black suits stand behind them, staring at me.

I peer over my shoulder at Uncle Jay, making sure he sees this too. It’s not just the stylists. The actual yakuza are here too.

The first woman, a blonde, blinks rapidly. “Hi. Are you Vivian Petrus?”

I nod. “And you are?—”

“Please come with us.”

They drag me to the Bellagio, and it’s a whirlwind of bathing, clothes, makeup, and blow dryers. By the time I reemerge, it’s the early evening, and I’m literally a pampered doll. The blonde stylist leads me to a set of angled mirrors so I can see my entire outfit, and for the millionth time today, I gasp.

A shiny champagne dress fits my frame. The bodice is sheer, and there’s a high slit, showing off my freckled legs. The color is so close to my skin tone that if it wasn’t for the shininess of thematerial, I’d look naked. It’s elegant, but there’s a promiscuous quality to it too, and there’s no trace of the woman I was this morning, no hints the yakuza had kept me in a cell while they cut and beat my uncle.

I look like I belong in a fashion magazine, like I could actually be a crime boss’s wife.

I turn to the blonde stylist. “You said he picked out this outfit?”

She nods. “He picked out several outfits, but this is the one I thought would fit you best.”

I’m barely able to accept it’s me. The column silhouette is so flattering, I imagine I’m a celebrity on the red carpet. The dress is sleeveless, completely exposing my swan-like neck. A faint shimmer powder decorates my tattoo, as if my candle was touched by a mermaid. My hair is wrapped in an updo with a few loose strands around my face.

I snap a picture in the mirror, then send it to Uncle Jay.

You’re going to kill it, Vi,Uncle Jay says.Patrick says you’re hot.

It weirds me out when Patrick says stuff like that, even if we’re notthatrelated. I guess my mom and Patrick’s mom were third cousins or something, but they’re both gone now, and it’s just us. Uncle Jay, Patrick, and me.

---