Behind the counter, the girl’s eyes went wide and mouth fell open.
“I didn’t actually try to rob her,” I said, pulling out more than enough cash to cover the cost and handing it all over. “I tried to rob her boyfriend. You can keep all the extra cash if you don’t call the police.”
Between the story and the way I looked, the girl seemed scared enough and nodded in agreement.
“No problem,” she squeaked. “Let me get your stuff.”
“Thanks!” the rebel girl yelled, pushing me away. “Don’t be rude.”
“I’m not the one running around screaming about the crimes I commit.”
“Does this mean you’ve committed more than one crime?”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Today? Yeah. That part wasn’t obvious? And if you start telling people my business, I won’t be nearly as kind.”
“Is that a threat? And this is you beingnice?”
I grabbed the box of cookies, handing it to her as we headed back out.
“Of course it’s a threat. And you’re not left on the side of the road, so yeah, this is me being nice.”
“Threaten me again and I’ll go right to the cops to talk about you.”
“And I’ll break into your house and kidnap you so you never see your family, or the cops, ever again,” I said, pulling down my mask enough to take a bite of the first cookie. She hadn’t been lying. These were amazing.
I didn’t realize she had stopped walking until I turned the corner to the alley where I parked my bike. I stepped back, finding her frozen on the sidewalk.
“Problem?”
“Yes, problem. You threatened to kidnap me!”
“Only if you try to turn me in. Otherwise, I never plan to see you again.”
“But you would do it?”
“Of course I would do it,” I said. “Are you going to eat your cookies or am I stealing them all?”
She grabbed the box, ripping it out of my hands and pressing it to her chest. “I’m eating mine at home. Which, from here, I can get myself there on my own.”
I leaned back on my bike, watching her as I ate the last of the one cookie she apparently planned on giving me.
“Running away?”
“From the guy who has now held me at gunpoint and threatened to kidnap me? Yes, I am.”
Her phone rang for what felt like the twentieth time since we had got off the bike, and like the other times, she clicked to silence it.
“Problems?”
“Elliot keeps calling.”
“Give me the phone.”
“You think I’m going to hand you my phone now? Are you going to ride off with it?”
“Yeah, I’m short on pink cell phones. Come on,” I said, reaching my hand out. I grabbed it, leaning back on the bike as I clicked the speakerphone on.
It rang once before Elliot picked up.
