Smash & Grab (15 page)

“Ew, no,” I say immediately. “Let's go with the spy theory. Close enough. But no bank secrets involved.” I step closer to him so that our shoulders touch, and I look furtively to my left and right before standing on tiptoe so that my lips are close to his neck, grazing his earlobe. “If you must know, I'm trying to infiltrate an elderly band of white-collar criminals stealing mass quantities of paper clips from office supply closets.” I'm flirting. It's only to try to distract him. And it helps me feel like I'm gaining back some control. If I can't get him to stop asking questions, I'm in real trouble here. This guy gets too nosy and it could mess up everything.

Christian laughs, and the sound of it—warm and low—nearly makes me forget to keep my guard up. “Okay.”

“So you work there?” I ask, pointing at the truck, eager to change the subject. “What about school? Am I going to have to start investigating you, too?” I tease. At the risk of sounding conceited, I'm a master flirt. And it's paying off right now. His eyes are alive, lit up inside, and his gaze keeps drifting to my mouth. He wants to kiss me. And in the name of protecting my agenda, I might let him. A girl's gotta be willing to do what it takes to get the job done, right?

He grins. “That depends. Does your investigation involve a thorough pat-down?”

I roll my eyes again and he laughs. “School's over in a few days, and my cousin really needed me. I'll be doing this all summer anyway, so why not get a head start snagging some cash, right? But you don't really want to know about all that. Seriously, what's going on, Lexi?” Dang it. I thought I had him.

“That's classified. Top secret. You know, spy stuff. I could tell you, but then…”

He groans, “Yeah, yeah, but then you'd have to kill me. Right. But…” He waits, frowning.

I stop smiling. “Look. Can't you just forget you ever saw me? Please?”

He considers it. “Nah, sorry, but you're impossible to forget.”

I shake my head. This is too much. “I can't do this right now. I'm sorry.” I look back at the jewelry store and see Harrison walking out with his phone to his ear.

“Okay, fine, but I need some kind of explanation if I'm going to keep covering for you. Meet me tomorrow afternoon,” Christian says. “Right here. Four o'clock.”

I can't tell if he's being flirty or if he's threatening me. Like if I don't show up, he'll somehow expose me to Harrison. I decide to call his bluff.

“I don't get off until five. And no,” I say.

“Please. I'm not looking to hurt you. You helped me. Maybe I can help you.” There's something in his eyes that makes me want to give in.

I glance at my watch; orientation resumes in less than five minutes. “Look. Thanks for before, but I don't owe you an explanation.” I hurry back toward the bank before he can argue, heart in my throat, hoping that he won't even try.

Leo's beach house is
alive with lights, music, and people when Quinn and I pull up. It feels chaotic after the hushed atmosphere of the bank. I would normally be excited, but my brain is full to bursting with inane banking information, and after cozying up to that snake Harrison all day, I just want to go back home and take a long, hot shower, think through what to do about Christian if he doesn't let our little meet-up at the food truck go, and go to bed. But this is Leo's last big party of the school year, his “Night Before the Last Day” blowout. He'd be crushed if I didn't show up.

I get off my bike and stretch, relishing the freedom of not being in my work disguise. I take off my helmet and run a hand through my hair and sigh. The air is a thousand times cooler without that awful wig on my head. It's not quite dark, but the sky is close to succumbing to night, the last tendrils of sunset pinks and oranges fading on the horizon. Quinn and I walk up the steep driveway past familiar cars, but as normal as it all seems, I feel different, like I don't belong. We don't go to Westwood Prep anymore. I wonder if this is what it feels like once you graduate, like some invisible curtain has suddenly dropped between the life you had and the one you're headed toward. All I know is that it sucks, this abrupt separation I'm feeling.

We let ourselves into the house and weave our way through the tightly packed crowds of people holding red Solo cups, laughing at the kind of stories and jokes you'd have to be there while it was happening to understand. A few people wave; several more glance at us and then away, whispering behind their hands as if we can't see them, as if we don't know that they're talking about us.

“Quinn! Lexi!” Whitney jostles her way over to us, barefoot and casual in a floaty little sundress, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. I can feel Quinn take it all in: the golden glow of her skin, the way her teeth look extra white by comparison, the fact that her wide smile is mostly meant for him. The one good thing about our leaving school is that it seems to have shifted something between them. They aren't officially exclusive, but you can tell they're close. Tonight could be the tipping point.

“How was your day, dear?” Whitney asks me, half laughing. “Did you play nice at the office?” She leans into me and puts her mouth up to my ear. “Did they buy the disguise?”

Everyone except Christian.
But how do I say this right here? Right now? Quinn will panic. Someone might overhear. Besides, I want time to think, to form a plan so that when I do tell them, I'll have a way to fix things.

“Went exactly as planned. We'll talk later. You see Leo yet?”

Whitney shakes her head. “No, but knowing him, he's hiding out in his darkroom.”

Leo throws parties all the time, something his parents not only endorse but engineer. His playboy, high-rolling image has been carefully cultivated by his mother practically since he was born and she dressed him in a onesie that had
BALLER
on it. She'll call the effort a success if and when he and his two brothers achieve Kardashian-type fame and she gets to be on their reality show. Leo goes along with it, but inevitably he spends half of every party holed up developing photographs the old-fashioned way in his basement, so that's where I head now.

“Lex, how's it goin'?” Amanda Blake, a friend of Bianca's and one of the mean-girl trio, is one floor above me, leaning over the circular glass-enclosed staircase that leads from the house's third floor to the basement. Her straight red hair hangs over her face. “We miss you
so
much, hon.” A total lie. With me gone, she's next in line to the It Girl throne—not a title I was all that eager to have or keep, mind you, but one she's coveted since we started high school. She teeters a bit on the stair, and Derek, my text ex, steadies her elbow, looks pointedly at me, and nuzzles her ear. I guess he thinks I'm going to be jealous…and maybe that's what that sinking feeling is in my stomach, but whatever, I'll live. I have bigger things to worry about than high school drama.

I make my way down the last few steps to the bottom floor. The entire back wall of the house is floor-to-ceiling windows meant to take advantage of the ocean view, but with the lights on, all I can see is my own reflection—a girl with long blond hair, not-so-pale skin thanks to my recent spray tan—gliding across the dark world beyond the glass like a ghost. I make my way to Leo's darkroom. The door has a sign on it telling me to
KNOCK FIRST OR DIE
. I rap on it a few times.

“It's me.”

Leo opens the door a few seconds later, squinting. “Lex!” He pulls me inside and puts his arm around my shoulders. “How's my little spy doing?”

“Not so peachy,” I say. “I have a problem I need you to help me brainstorm. Can you spare a few minutes and come hang with me?” I don't want Quinn to know about Christian yet. I know my brother too well. He'll decide that it's too dangerous for me to stay at the bank and refuse to let me go back, maybe withdraw me from the program with a couple of keystrokes. Leo, on the other hand, knows me well enough to realize when he can't talk me out of something, and he can keep a secret better than anyone I know. He's the perfect person to confide in and hit up for advice.

“I was just finishing up the last of the photos I took during the jump. Give me two more minutes and I'm game,” Leo says, leaning up against the countertop. “So what's going on?”

“After you're done,” I say. “It can wait.”

I go down the clothesline strung from wall to wall, examine the still-drying pictures clipped to it of Quinn and the others hovering over the street. They are beautiful. Everyone's a study in shadow and light, their parachute canopies making them look almost angelic, like they have wings. I reach the one that I decide is my favorite, the one of me landing on that van's hood in a crouch, my parachute like a drifting cloud behind me. It's taken from far enough away that you can see the city in the background looking Gotham-esque. I look like a superhero, or maybe a villain, but tough either way, my boots shiny in the glare of the streetlights.

“Can I have a copy of this one?” I ask.

I could use a reminder of how strong I can be sometimes, how in control. Especially after what happened earlier today. I managed to do what I set out to do: get some security information that might help us and bug Harrison's office, but the run-in with Christian and the few slipups I made at the bank and with my debit card really threw me. In theory this little scheme seemed so much easier. Now I'm not sure how to fix things. Do I meet with Christian? He knows I'm not Angela. All he has to do is tell someone at the bank. Tell Harrison. It's obvious that I'm up to something sketchy.

“Ha! I knew you'd want that one, so I already made you a copy. It's drying over there. I got a better one of the guys in the van, too. You're gonna laugh when you see it. Their faces when you landed? In a word:
awesome.
” Leo strides over to the other side of the room.

I grin and follow him. I could use a laugh. I lean over and take a closer look. The driver…it takes a second, but then there's no mistaking him, and my whole body goes cold.
What the hell? Christian.
Again. My stomach turns into a hundred butterflies beating at the sides of a too-small cage, swirling up inside my chest. He was there that night?
How? Why? Everywhere I've been lately, he's been there, too. Now I'm thoroughly freaked out.

Leo laughs. “Two dudes in a minivan looking scared crapless and you all Black Widow–tough on the hood. It's almost too amazing to keep hidden in the BAM book. The passenger is my favorite—he's so shocked, it's adorable.” Leo touches the photo gently with one finger and smiles. “Don't you think?”

“Sure, adorable,” I echo.

The car. Something about it is so familiar. I take the photo down and examine it close up. A gray minivan. I look at the next photo—it captures the side of the van with me running, blurry in the background. There's a sign on the van's door. I inch closer, squinting to make out the words:
MARY KAY CONSULTANT
.

I suck in a breath. The bank robbery. The getaway car was gray and had a sign just like it. No,
exactly
like it. Christian's driving the getaway car. Which means…Oh my god, he's one of them. That's why he's been at all the same places. He's the robber who ran me over. I can't prove it, but suddenly I know it's true. Those eyes, how did I not see it before? That's why he was at the Bank of America. He was asking me to get that necklace because he needed it. It was evidence.
He used me to get rid of it.

I turn my back on the photo and half sit on the counter. The cute boy who flirted with me and took me out for doughnuts is a criminal. A bank robber, for crap's sake! It doesn't seem possible. He seemed so sweet…but when he asked me to get his medal, he had to know I was the one he knocked over in front of the bank. It's messed up, flirting with me like that. Playing me. Part of me can't help but be impressed. Oh, he's good, but I'm also ticked off. How dare he use me like that?

“Hey, what is it? You look freaked out.” Leo's frowning, watching me.

“Can you make me a copy of this picture? And this one? Two copies?” I yank down the ones I want and hand them to him. I am so angry I'm shaking.

“Sure, but what's going on?”

“Too much to tell you right now. Just make the pictures, please. And can I use your laptop?”

“Okaaay,” he says, confused.

I hug him hard, thankful that there are at least a few guys left in my life I can actually trust, and rush up the stairs. I need to find out everything I can about Christian before he comes looking for me tomorrow. Now that he knows I'm interning at the bank…it will only be a matter of time before he does. And when he does, I want to be ready to play him right back.

“You've been skipping school.
A lot, according to the office. What's going on, mijo?” Mom is waiting at the door for me to show up, her arms folded, foot tapping.
Not good.

I leave my backpack by the door and try to walk past her, hoping like mad that she'll drop it so I can go to my room and figure out what's up with this Lexi girl and her repeated appearances at banks I've either robbed or am planning to rob. But Mom is like a dog nipping at my heels, raining questions down on me. I'm not up for this discussion. My brain's still reeling from my run-in with Lexi. Half of me is psyched to have a probable “in” to exploit at the bank, but the other half is still caught up in those eyes of hers and the way her bottom lip curves and how it would feel to kiss her.

“Did you think they wouldn't call to tell us? A full scholarship, and what do you do? Skip school. I don't get it. Why would you jeopardize your whole future like this?”

The truth is, I've had too much to worry about, and the possibility that the school would call wasn't high on my list of priorities. Besides, Gabriel's little sister just started working in the front office. He promised me she'd take my name off the absentee list before the automated phone calls to my house went out. Which he obviously didn't do. Pendejo. I walk past Mom and into the family room, where Maria is parked in front of the television, glued to
Curious George.
She laughs as George falls off a chair into a bucket of water. Every time I look at her I remember Psycho pointing his gun at the back of her head. I shiver.

“Where were you?” Abuelo asks before I can answer Mom's first round of questions.

“Well?” Mom leans against the wall, her lips pressed tight together like she's trying hard not to totally lose it.

“I was helping Rosie at the food truck. She's swamped during the lunch rush downtown. She can't keep handling it alone, and if Benny misses any more school, he'll have to repeat this year. If I don't help her, she loses all that business, and you know she and Benny need all the money they can get. Tia Jeanne's treatments and all.” I take a long drink of water and look out the window so I won't have to look either of them in the eye. “Besides, she's paying me. If you want me to go to college, we're gonna need some money saved up, right? To make sure you guys can carry the bills? I thought it would be smarter to help the family out while I can and take advantage of making a little extra for you than to show up at school. Come on, it's the last week before the seniors are done. It's basically a waste to show up anyway. I already took my finals. My grades are in. It's not like I'm risking not graduating or something. Look, I know I should've told you and called the school about it. I'm sorry. I just forgot.” I hate myself a little for using my aunt's cancer and our financial stuff as my cover, for the awful pride that's suddenly radiating from Mom's face because now she thinks my skipping is somehow noble, but it's the only lie that will keep her off my back. Especially after I told her I was going to wait to start college in the fall.

“You are such a good boy,” Mom says, putting her hands on either side of my head and then kissing both my cheeks. “You make me so proud, mijo.” Her eyes are glassy with tears. I feel slimy. “But you shouldn't miss your last few days. You only graduate high school once. You should be having fun with your friends.”

Yeah, that's what we do. Have fun. Robbing banks is a freaking party. “It's cool. I've got plenty of time for that.”

“S'up?” Benny pokes his head around the door at just the right moment.

“Hi, Benny, how's mi hermana feeling today?”

Benny's smile slips a little bit. “Tired. The chemo's wiping her out.”

“I'll come over tonight after work to see her. You staying for dinner? It's just leftovers, but you're welcome to it. And make up a plate to take to Rosie before you leave if I'm not here.” Mom ruffles first Benny's hair and then mine.

No matter how old my cousin gets, he always reverts to about ten when my mom starts asking him questions. “Gracias, Tia.” Benny puts on his best angel face.

“I was gonna work out. You game?” I ask him. I need to burn off all this stress and guilt I'm carrying or I won't make it to the end of this job. Lifting for an hour will help clear my head.

“Man, why else d'you think I'm wearing these shorts?” Benny's got this thing with shorts. He hates them. Dude never wears anything but jeans even on the hottest day unless he's working out. He'd never admit it, but I think it's because as big as his chest is, his legs are like twigs. He'll probably spend the next hour doing weighted calf raises and lunges to build them up.

“How's it goin' downtown? You score any good intel yet?” Benny asks.

I look back down the hall to see if anyone's listening.

“Maybe. Give me a day or two and I'll let you know.”

We head for the bench and weights out in the garage. They used to be my dad's, but since he barely comes out of my parents' room when he's here, they're mine now.

Mom calls down the hall. “Want anything? Water? A snack?” Leave it to Mom to keep pressing food on us. Only she would think eating is a good idea in the middle of a workout.

I roll my eyes at Benny. “We're good.”

I put on some music, my usual routine when we hit the weights.

“So I never asked you where the medal was or how you ended up getting it out of there,” Benny says as soon as we're both sure no one's eavesdropping on the other side of the door. “Man, I was too relieved that you had it back. That night after the job I could barely sleep a wink.”

“It was in one of the offices. Under a desk.”

“And you what? Just walked in there, looked around, and snatched it up?”

“Nah, man. I met this girl outside the bank, and I got her to go in and look for me.”

“What girl?”

“Just some random girl. I don't know. She told me her name, but I can't remember it.” I avoid looking at him. Benny's got this way of reading me. If he thinks I'm holding back, he'll press me for details. I don't want him knowing much about Lexi just yet, not until I figure out what she's doing at the bank and how I can use it to help us.

I grab a set of dumbbells and start curling them.
What am I going to do about her?
She's obviously doing something shady, but what?
Could we have some competition on this job?
I still have her ID, and later, once I have a little time to myself, I'll start sifting through whatever pops up when I Google her. I want to do it now, but if I try to rush Benny out, he'll wonder what's up.

“Hey, dipwads. Got room for three more?” someone shouts from the hall.

Gabriel, Carlos, and Eddie step into the garage. Is it my imagination or do all three of them look a little guilty? One of them told Soldado about the medal. I thought it was Gabriel, but could they all have gone to Soldado—or, worse, straight to the Eme to tell them about my slipup? Gabriel's been so weird lately. I think about Maria and Psycho, and my temper boils over. “You ratted me out to Soldado. Do you have any idea what you started?” I rush toward the door, and Gabriel throws his hands up.

“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy.”

Everything that happened outside my house with Maria comes pouring out of me. I tell him the whole story. The accusation is clear.

“I didn't tell him. None of us did,” Gabriel says, looking me right in the eye. “I swear.”

“Then how'd he know?” I growl, careful to keep my voice low enough that Mom doesn't come out here to see what's up.

“How should I know? Guy's got eyes and ears all over. I just know it wasn't me. I would never do anything to put the family in danger. Maria especially. Come on, you know that.” His face is pure emotion, tears swimming in his eyes, shining under the garage's overhead light. “He could've had you followed or something. After we dropped off the take, he called and asked me what was up with you. Why you seemed all jumpy. All's I told him was that you were getting tired of the jobs and, yeah, I did mention the school thing, but I didn't think that would put him over the edge. I told him you weren't gonna go. Man, I'm sorry. For real. I woulda never said that if…”

I think about the last few days. Could I have been followed? It seems paranoid, but then…Soldado can be crazy, so maybe it's true. A creeping sense of dread inches up my spine, and my mouth dries up.

“Yeah. I know,” I say. As suspicious as Gabriel's behavior's been lately, seeing him now, all torn up, I know he didn't screw me over. “I feel you. We're good.” He grabs me and pulls me in for a quick back pat/hug combo.

He clears his throat and sniffs. “We'll get this job done, and Maria will be safe. No matter what. We're in this together, right?”

“Right.” I hand Gabriel a set of forties so he can do biceps curls, and Eddie heads for the pull-up bar. He's got on his dad's old steel-toed work boots and a pair of jeans with drywall crusted on them, so he must've come straight here from work. He takes off his shirt and starts doing pull-ups. I remember when we came out here the first time, all of us skinny like Eddie back then. All Gabriel could curl was a five-pounder. He was basically a stick bug, all arms and legs. Really, we all were. We started the weight training to survive. You don't get tough, you don't make it. Sometimes not even if you are tough.

Benny lies back on the bench and lifts the already stacked bar off the stand and down to his chest. He presses it five quick times, his cheeks puffing out by the end, making him look like his face might explode. The weights are set for me, not him. It's too much weight and he knows it, but it never stops him from trying anyway, every freaking time we come out here. I swear it's his goal in life to best me at least once.

“So. Did Christian tell you exactly how he got his medal back?” Benny says.

I punch his arm, but he keeps going.

“He got some chica to go in and get it for him. Homes is legit,” Benny jokes. “Some girl he doesn't even know, and she gets it and doesn't even think twice.”

“So she gets your medal and what? You go your separate ways? That doesn't sound like you, bro,” Gabriel says, exhaling hard as he starts another set. He looks over at the mirror on the far wall so he can watch his form. I have a rep for dating my fair share of girls, but I'm nowhere near the ladies' man these pendejos are trying to make me out to be. So far the jobs and school have taken up most of my attention. Plus, the second I date a girl more than once or twice, Mom sits us both down for a talk about the dangers of teenage sex. She had me when she was seventeen, and while she swears up and down I was one of the two best things to ever happen to her (Maria being the second), she also has a very long list of all the ways her life imploded because she got pregnant. It's usually enough to put an end to things for me and whatever girl I might be with.

“Yeah. Kind of. I mean, I took her for a couple doughnuts to, you know, say thank you, but that was it,” I tell Gabriel. I don't mention playing chess. They'd have a field day with that.

Benny breaks into a crazy grin. “Doughnuts? Ha! I knew there was more to this story than you were letting on. Where's this girl from?”

I set down my weights and shake out my arms. I forgot to count my reps while we were talking, and now my biceps are quivering. “Who knows? Dude, it's not a thing. She was going into the bank, and I made up some story and asked her to get the medal, and she did. So I felt like I should thank her. End of story.”

The guys start to laugh, and then Carlos goes into a detailed explanation of what he'd do to thank her, like he has any experience at all and isn't just riffing off stuff he's only seen in online porn.

“She was hot, right?” Eddie stares at me hopefully, one eyebrow sort of arched. He tries to do a chin-up with just one arm, but he can't quite isolate the right muscles to do it. I can't help it—I crack up because the guy looks like he's having a seizure when he does that.