Page 1 of F*ck Steal Kill

CHAPTER 1

HOLLAND

The first time I’d killed a man, it was an accident.

Now, how would a girl like me, one who seemingly on the outside had it all together, find herself in a situation where she had to classify her first murder as an ‘accident’?

But as the saying went, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—and mine was covered in blood.

“Earth to Holland,” Lacey bellowed, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I turned my head and glowered at one of my best friends. Lacey lifted her ice-blue eyes at me, daring me to challenge her. Her long dark hair was in her customary top-knot, piled high on her head. Her lips twitched as she waited me out, and I ignored how my white-blonde hair had stuck to my dark purple lipstick in the move.

When she didn’t budge, I sighed and gave in, earning a triumphant smile from her.

“What?” I groaned, spitting out my hair as I tried to pull it away from my face.

I’d been zoning out all day while we’d been working, lost in the boredom and routine. It was just another humdrum Wednesday at The Secret Keep Inn.

“Your turn,” Joy, the third member of our posse, said, her sweet voice drawing my attention. Glancing around the lobby of the Inn, I picked out three people for the game after only a cursory glance.

“Baldie, button-up, and beer gut,” I said through a yawn.

Joy giggled at my accidental alliteration. She placed her chin on her fist as she debated, twisting her lips back and forth. Her delicate features reminded me of an angel, triggering my protective instincts. Her honey-brown hair fell softly around her heart-shaped face, her big brown doe eyes allowing her to get away with just about anything.

For not the first time, I marveled at how different we were, even just sitting around a table. Joy had a soft and romantic style, wearing dresses and skirts in floral patterns. She was tiny, barely five feet, and often seemed to float as she walked.

Lacey was the exact opposite, always flopping down into chairs and stomping everywhere she went. She was the tallest of the three of us, topping off around 5’9”, and dressed like she could go to a biker bar or rob a bank at any given time. So much black leather in her wardrobe that I often wondered if she was colorblind.

And then there was me. Average height, average weight, and dressed like a punk rock hobo. Mostly because I didn’t care about clothes and also because I liked to shock people. Too many years of living up to other people’s expectations had a way of doing that.

Lacey glared at the table next to us, their eyes shifting quickly at her look, causing me to snort. She shrugged, taking another swig of her coffee as she spread her legs out like she didn’t have a care in the world; though the smirk growing behind her cup said otherwise. Lacey liked scaring people; it was her thing. Not that they’d given her much of a choice.

If you met the three of us separately, you’d never expect us to be friends. But small towns had a way of putting together people who normally wouldn’t socialize with one another. And Ms. Hutchinson’s third-grade class had done just that. It was the year everyone came down with chicken pox except the three of us.

In a classroom with only three students for a week, we bonded, forging a lifelong friendship that had stood the test of time despite our differences.

Joy was the town's sweetheart. She volunteered for everything and would bring you soup if you were sick. She was goodness incarnate, and if she hadn’t met Lacey and me, she would’ve probably become a nun or something. I almost felt bad about that.

Lacey, on the other hand, was the town rebel and resident slut—her words. Her zip code was considered to be the wrong side of town, and she was constantly in trouble. Though that was just what she let people see. Lacey didn’t let many people in, but once she did, it was for life. She also loved to bake and volunteered at animal shelters to play with all the cats and dogs no one wanted. But hardly anyone saw that side of her. Mostly because of their own biases and partly her own self-preservation.

If Joy was considered the town angel, Lacey was definitely the devil.

Which left me—the town nerd with an alcoholic mother, a deadbeat father, and a tragic past. Go me for hitting the trifecta.

The three of us made little sense to most people, but to each other, we were a tribe. And nothing came between us and our bond.

Not even murder.

“Fuck Baldie, steal from button-up, and kill beer gut,” Joy said after deliberating. She gave herself a nod, her honey-brown strands falling into her face.

“Ugh, so boring,” Lacey whined, making Joy and me turn to one another. Lacey always had an opinion about our selections. “I’d fuck button-up. He might know how to handle me,” she said, licking her lips.

Snickering, I glanced at the guest list, knowing we needed to get back to work. There were still a few rooms to finish cleaning before they checked in to the Secret Keep Inn.

“Come on, break’s over,” I moaned.

They both sighed and tossed away their trash as I gathered the cart. Being a cleaning lady at the Inn wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was one of the easier ones in a town that catered to the bizarro.

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