Page 41 of All That Glitters
Debbie’s heart pounded as she clambered through the broken window, carefully avoiding its jagged edges. She dropped into the bathtub with a thud that seemed loud enough to wake the dead.
“I’m in,” she whispered down to Veronica. “Stay there and keep watch.”
“What am I supposed to be watching for? The cops? Tony’s angry neighbors? My legal career going down the drain?”
But Debbie had already disappeared into the apartment. She hurried to the door and peeked around the corner into Tony’s bedroom. He was fast asleep, a peaceful lump under a tangle of sheets. His mouth was slightly open, a soft snore escaping with each breath.
For a moment, Debbie forgot why she was there. She just stood there, watching him sleep, her heart doing that familiar flip it had been doing since she was thirteen. Then the hangover headache pulsed, reminding her of her mission.
She tiptoed into the kitchen, where her foot came down on an empty beer can with a deafening CRUNCH! She froze and looked back at Tony’s bedroom door. No movement. He was still sleeping.
Debbie shook off the can and walked over to the counter. She found his cell phone there, next to a half-eaten sandwich. She picked it up and scrolled to the voicemail. She’d seen him enter his passcode dozens of times, which, fortunately, wasn’t that hard to remember — 1234.
The voicemail app opened, and her heart sank. There were three new messages. She had no idea which one was hers. She pressed play on the first one.
‘Tony, it’s your mother. Just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Call me back. Love you.’
She deleted it without thinking, then immediately regretted it. Tony’s mom would kill her if she knew. She moved on to the second message.
‘Hey, Tony, it’s Matt. Just wanted to let you know I’m bringing over those screenplays I printed at the office tomorrow. My bosssays you owe the firm five bucks. Also, did you delete that picture of Jeff from your Instagram? He’s been whining about it all day.’
She deleted that one too. Now, for the moment of truth. Message three.
‘Um, hi. It’s me. Debbie.’ Her own voice, slurred and embarrassingly breathless, filled the silent kitchen. ‘Your friend. For like, fifteen years. Remember? Anyway, I was just calling to say...’
She cringed, listening to her own lovesick confession, then jabbed the delete button. She tiptoed back to the bathroom, carefully avoiding the beer can minefield.
Back in the alley, Veronica was pacing nervously, checking her watch every thirty seconds. Debbie’s head poked out the window.
“Done.”
“Thank God,” Veronica breathed, visibly relieved. “Now can we go home and be hungover in peace? I have a date with some aspirin and a gallon of water.”
“Yeah. Help me down.”
Debbie scrambled back out the window, dropping into the alley with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. Just as her feet hit the ground, a siren chirped. The girls spun around to see a police car idling at the mouth of the alley, its lights flashing. A cop leaned out his window.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You lost your keys.”
Veronica looked at Debbie, ready to strangle her. “Any more ideas?”
Debbie’s mind raced through scenarios. Only one sort of made sense. “Yeah. We should run.”
“Run? Are you insane? That’s the worst—”
But Debbie had already taken off down the alley in the opposite direction of the police car. Veronica looked back at thecop, who was already reaching for his radio, then bolted after her friend.
“I’m going to kill you!” she shouted as they ran.
They turned a corner, then another, zigzagging through the neighborhood with no real plan except to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the police. After several blocks, they slowed to a stop, both gasping for breath.
“I think we lost him,” Debbie panted, hands on her knees.
“Are you kidding me?” Veronica wheezed. “He’s in a car. We’re on foot. And we’re hungover.”
As if on cue, the wail of a siren reached their ears, growing louder.
Debbie made a quick scan of the area. “We can hide in there!” she said, pointing to a row of large black garbage cans lined up for pickup outside a nearby house. Without waiting for Veronica’s response, Debbie raced over to the cans, lifted the lid of one, and climbed inside.
