“Honestly,” I continue breezily, straightening again, “I’d much rather skip all of that and get straight to my favorite part.” A brief nod toward the exit. “Watching you walk away.” I beam, saccharine-sweet. “Yeah, that would suit me perfectly.”
“I don’t get it. Why do you think you’re so special?” she asks.
I sigh. Ah, right on cue. Served up fresh: one steaming plate of messy chaos, just the way I like it. “Babe, it won’t work.”
Her scowl deepens. “What won’t?”
“This.” I flick my fingers dismissively between us, like shooing a pesky fly. “You trying to intimidate me because you’ve fucked Tomcat. Newsflash, Bambi.” My smile grows, shimmering and cold. “So has half the city.” Her jaw snaps open, shuts, swings open again. “So, maybe,” I say, voice sugary, “you should ask yourself why you believe you’re so special just because he handed you his willy a time or two?”
The outrage that flashes across her face is spectacular. Truly, this is premium entertainment. Five stars, would watch again.
Words fail her completely, lips moving uselessly while her brain desperately tries to reboot.
I pat her shoulder, making a sympathetic tsk. “Hard to figure out, huh?”
Her glare sharpens, and I lean in slightly, conspiratorial, like I’m about to offer genuine comfort. “It’s okay. You tried.” Then, because I’m generous like that, I decide to help her out. “Would it make you feel better if I pretended to be properly intimidated? I think I can manage scared. Maybe.”
Before she can respond, my hands fly to my cheeks. Eyes wide, lips trembling, I’m in full performance mode. “Oh no,” I whisper dramatically. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll stay away. I promise. Please don’t beat me up or something.” I drop my hands, blinking normally. “There.” I tilt my head. “How’d I do?”
Bambi physically recoils. Like…actually recoils. As if whatever is wrong with me might be contagious. “You’re crazy.”
I grin at her, delighted. “Oh! Thanks. I know. Hey, I just got a new knife. Want a peek?”
Something splinters behind her eyes, her confidence cracking as fear slowly seeps in.
Delicious.
“Whatever,” Bambi mutters, turning sharply on her heel.
Retreat. Sweet, glorious retreat.
“So you don’t want to see it?” I call lightly after her as she hurries off.
She glances back once before practically speed-walking away like her survival instincts finally kicked in.
I giggle, quietly thrilled, as her pace quickens.
God, people are adorable.
I shake off the encounter with the giddy ease of a cheerful sociopath and zero in on my mission. The parking lot transforms into my personal playground. I dart between cars, glide past people, grinning, waving, scattering harmless quips like confetti.
I’m invisible and alive with buzzing, fizzy exhilaration.
Camera choreography is everything. When the front camera sweeps left, I slip right. When the gatehouse lens pivots out, I slide in. A seamless dance of timing, instinct, and years spent where I didn’t belong. Then, the sun blazes against the fence, slicing a golden wall of shadow between the gatehouse and perimeter, creating my perfect opening.
I move fast, fingers diving into my fanny pack for my most treasured stowaway. Sooty McSnuggleface peeks out from his snug hideaway, his fur still toasty from being close to me. I plant a swift kiss on his miniature plush crown.
“For luck,” I murmur.
Then I place him with precision, right in direct line of sight where the prospect at the gate can’t possibly miss him.
I really hope this doesn’t land the poor guy in hot water. That would be absurd. It’s not his fault I’ve memorized every chink in their security armor. Honestly, if they just asked, I could teach them how to outsmart sneaky little shits like me.
That’s just the kind of helpful person I am.
With my precious cargo in place, heading back inside feels like shedding a heavy coat. The pressure eases, the electric buzz in my muscles unwinds.
Mission accomplished.
