Page 25 of The Pretender

Slowly, as if something was lurking within the folds of the vinyl, Vee drops the trash bag and grasps the slide with both hands, flipping it over for a better view of the writing on the back.

It’s the highlight of my shitty week when her face falls into a frown, and her gaze snaps up to my townhouse. A few seconds later, her phone is in her hands, and mine is buzzing with a notification.

I’ll be honest. I can’t wait to read it.

DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER: Really?

I admiremy contact name for her, one that I clearly ignored yesterday morning, and grin.

Me: Good morning to you too, Valentina. I’m fine. Thanks for asking. You’re looking fresh-faced and full of deceit this morning.

I watchas her head falls back, and she looks at the clouds as if she is praying.

DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER: Did you know that there is a break-in every 13 seconds? Really?

I grin.I couldn’t remember what exactly I wrote on the bottom of several of the slides. It was late and I was drunk, but it still makes me laugh.

Me: Okay. Thanks, Sherlock Holmes. I’ll keep that under advisement.

DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER: I know you wrote this. I can tell by the second-grade penmanship.

Don’t worry,I’m not offended. On a good day, my handwriting looks awful. On a drunk day, I’m sure it’s even worse. I think she’s being generous with the second-grade assessment.

Me: If I were you, I would do a little less accusing and a lot more hurrying. Tony will be coming out for his morning paper soon.

Her gaze snaps upto our complex owner’s door. Her friend may have offered him game tickets for the party, but that doesn’t mean he won’t fine the shit out of them for the mess. This isn’t a frat house. There are strict rules to living in this complex, and I’m pretty sure a littered courtyard is in the fine print somewhere.

Vee pockets her phone and takes my advice, hurrying to clean the mess.

“Is that it?” Brick asks beside me.

I feel my mouth pull tight. “Have you ever heard of delayed gratification, Brick?”

Seriously. A good video needs click bait—a mystery you have to keep watching in order to figure out the story.

“Yeah, but now her friends are out there,” he notes.

Even better. Now she’ll be worried about what else I wrote on the slides.

“Just keep filming. Keep the camera on her.”

Brick grunts out his understanding or frustration. I can’t tell which. It really doesn’t matter as long as he catches every second of Valentina Lambros going down.

Vee scrambles outside, barking orders at her friends, giving them each a job. She does a pretty good job of making it out like she’s worried Tony will come out and catch the mess versus them finding all my secret notes to her.

She hurries over to the courtyard, picking up all the slides, reading covertly as she finds more than a handful of notes on the bottom of the slides. When she and her crew have all the trash and slides bagged up, they all retreat back inside.

“Can I stop recording now?” Brick asks.

I lick my lips, the taste of victory sweet on my lips. “Take thirty.”

His brow raises. “What happens in thirty minutes?”

Was it really a good idea to hire Brick? I’m thinking no. “You’ll see. Just keep the camera on standby.”

It takes exactly thirty-one minutes before Brick is able to press record again.

CHAPTERSEVEN

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