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I sat there for another few minutes, trying to get my bearings and taking in the store. It looked like an eighties rocker’s closet. It looked like everythingshe’dwear, and there was no doubt she was picking me out an outfit while I sat here.
I hightailed it into the shop, finding her with a heap of clothing already in her arms.
“I thought we were going to a job of some sort?” This didn’t look like the type of clothing I’d wear for something even remotely professional. Then again, their work might be anything but that.
“We are, but it’s at a concert at a small venue, and I can’t take you in like that. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
Cookie grabbed another pair of jeans and a halter top. She was carrying a rainbow of shredded denim, leather, and latex. She dropped them into my arms, spun me around, and steered me into one of the dressing rooms that lined the boutique’s wall.
I pulled on a pair of pants, then another, skipping the latex altogether. She shoved some boots under the door while I was changing.
“Well?” she yelled through the door not four minutes later. “We’re running late, so just findsomethingand go with it.”
I settled on a ripped pair of jeans and a bustier that didn’t look too horrific under a jacket.
“Hope you didn’t take that personally back there,” she yelled over the door. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s only that I can’t understand the point of bringing you along,”
“Don’t feel bad. I don't know why I’m here either.” I slipped my feet into the shoes that were somewhere between a heel and a combat boot, but couldn’t quite commit to either.
Everything I was wearing looked like something my father’s wife would wear, or his daughter. I wanted to rip it off immediately, but that wouldn’t get today over with.
I turned sideways, realizing I didn’t look half bad in this getup. So I’d have a night out, play dress-up, and then go back to my life. It wouldn’t be that bad as long as it didn’t last.
I opened the door, and Cookie gave me a once-over. “Much better.”
I nodded.
“I’m relieved you realize this probably won’t work out,” Cookie said. “I just don’t see what you’re going to do, with no aptitude and all. Maybe you can keep cleaning until something else is arranged?”
Normally I’d find that a little insulting, except that I wanted out of this more than I cared about being wanted. What needed to be arranged was going back to my old life. And if everyone else agreed, maybe I could make that work for me.
Kaden didn’t seem to be the type to be swayed by popular opinion, but what if I could stir up a revolt? A strike? That would surely put a crimp in his bigger picture, whateverthatwas.
“It must be hard to work with someone who has no clue. You must be a really good employee to be willing.” Too good an employee, if Cookie gave it some thought.
“Well, we don’t usually get many new people.”
“Still, it’s got to be a real hardship on you. Not only do you have to do your job but you’re expected to have to deal with me too? That seems like a lot to ask.”
“Well, maybe after today he’ll realize this isn’t working and put more of an effort into helping you get out of here. When Kaden sets his mind to something, he gets it done, no matter how impossible.”
She looked about the boutique and screamed toward a woman in the back, “Hey! We’re done here! We’ll be leaving now.”
Chapter Nine
The bar was one of those places that had scribbles on the wall, worn wooden furniture, and surfaces I didn’t particularly want to touch.
“I’m just watching, right?” There was no way I was doing something illegal, orfixing things, as they called it. Maybe I could stand by the bar and not even get close to whatever it was Cookie was going to do.
The bar might not be safe either. What if she drugged someone’s drink? I’d have to find a corner to hide out in. Maybe have some mysterious stomach issue?
“I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’ve got my hands full. This guy we’re here to tinker has been a real problem. The issue is, he’s about to kick it in a week, and—”
I backed away, hands up. “I don’t need to hear this. I really don’t want to know.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the bar with her as she said, “We’re not killing him. We’re cleaning up one of his messes before he kicks the bucket.”
She was swerving us in and out of people, yelling over the background music, and no one so much as blinked an eye in our direction.
