“That was different,” I say, catching up and breathing hard. Whoever these guys are—Mike and JD, the hosts and I guess the owners of this place—didn’t really keep the game invite-only, so us and all the other takers just kind of waltzed in.
Now, though…
“Hmm.” Pan leans one ear to the door, twisting and turning the knob as he does. I look back over my shoulder, uneasy, just in time to see the curtains in a picture window across the street snap shut.
Great. Just what we need. Eyewitnesses.
“No deadbolt,” Pan mutters, giving the door another tug. “And no chain. Bet I can just…”
He digs in his pockets, searching, and finally fishes out his Fill-R-Up loyalty card, which he shrugs at.
“That’ll work.” With the knob gripped in his left hand, he slides the card through the crack between the door and the wall, and?—
Click.
“Look at that!” he cries—loud.“Open fuckin’ sesame.”
Instinctively, I whip my head back around. Just in time to catch the curtains flutter a second time.
“Would you shut up?” I say through my teeth. “I think someone saw us.”
Pan laughs. “Let ‘em look.” He swings the door open and takes a few strides into the dark living room. Big mirror on the wall, big TV, big brown leather couch, all vaguely familiar. “Hello?” When there’s no answer, he shrugs. “Guess we start looking around.”
A prickling feeling crawls up the back of my neck. “Dude?—”
“Hello?” he calls again. “Eh, they probably have jobs, because they’re boring and they suck.” Seeing me, he snickers. “C’mon, relax.”
He grabs my shoulder to shake it, and I slide out of his grasp just in time. Instinct—I can’t risk being touched. Don’t like it, even with my own jacket on and protecting me. All I get is the brush of his fingertips.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to do anything stupid,” I say. If whoever it was across the street knows their neighbors, then they’re gonna know that the two biker boys—one with stupidly bright red hair—arenotMike and JD.
“And I thoughtyousaid you were going to stop me if I did.” Pan unceremoniously starts pushing things around, flipping up sofa cushions, kicking the dining room chairs apart. “Hmm, hmm, hmm.”
I trail him, nervous now. Because he’s right. I should’ve stopped him, stopped him as soon as the door was locked. That’s my job—stop things before they escalate. I’m not an enforcer, or even a good fighter. That’d be Fox, or Blue, if it comes to it. I didn’t think this was something we’d need one for.
But now…
I don’t know. Pan may be feeling this little B&E moment, but I’m not. There’s something about this house, I think. Empty and dark like this, in the blazing Valley sunshine. The quiet streets. The maybe-possible witness across the street.
I don’t like it.
I don’t know if women’s intuition is real or just sexist bullshit, but I know it’s something I can’t seem to shake.
Even now.
“Jacket?” Pan calls, like it’s a dog he’s ordering to heel. “Where are you?”
“Dude,” I say, my teeth clenched. “Shut up.”
Except the faster we find it, the faster we’re out of here, I realize. Sometimes, with Pan, once he’s already pot committed, the only way out is through.
And I guess this is one of those times.
Pan wanders to the kitchen, and I watch in the gap of the pass-through as he picks up a box of Lucky Charms, shakes it, and digs in a hand. Spotting me, he laughs. “Come on,” he says, chomping a handful. “Lighten up.”
There aren’t a lot of situations that I have to ask myselfwhat would a guy do?Not consciously, anyway. I’ve gotten good. But now is one of those times that I do. Second-guessing myself. Am I being too anxious? Too much of a pussy? An unfamiliar setting and unclear contexts are all running together in my mind.
But it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t matter because all I know for sure is that we’re not getting out of here until he gets his jacket.
