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“Eve,” Oli grunts. “Zip it.” I mime zipping my lips, and she pauses what she’s doing. She holds out her hand, palm up. “I think I’ll keep a hold of that. You can’t be trusted.”
I toss her my fake key and gesture for her to get back to work. Sometimes with Oli, it’s easier to just play along.
Besides, her delusions are my favorite part of my days.
After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to pick the lock, she screeches in frustration.
“What the heck? It worked last time.”
I don’t even ask what she means by that, eager to get on with the legal part of my night. I gently shove her to the side and wiggle the lock she’d been working on back and forth, using my body to block her view. I quickly turn the old silver knob, letting the already unlocked door creak open slowly. I don’t think she’s even realized the pet store isn’t closed yet.
“Wow, Oli,” I praise. “You did it.” She gasps and jumps to her feet, clapping triumphantly.
“I knew that Crime for Dummies book would pay off, eventually.”
She silently takes a step inside, her eyes skimming the shelves of glass tanks rapidly.
“So pretty,” she murmurs. With a heavy breath, she turns to me and slips Robert from her chest. “Here.” She thrusts the creature into my arms. “Hold my marsupial.”
Before I even have a chance to adamantly scream fuck no, she’s on her stomach and rolling around while chanting, “The name’s Bond. Olive Bond.”
Sighing, I settle Robert into the crook of my arms like a baby. He really is the most docile, ugly little thing I’ve ever seen.
He was originally purchased as someone’s pet when he was a baby, then turned over to a kill shelter when he’d reached maturity. His previous owners forgot that cute little babies grow into full adult animals and didn’t want him anymore.
He’s never known what it’s like to be anything but a pseudo-child to humans.
Poor guy.
At least Oli loves him like he’s her own infant.
“Eve. Help me,” she calls, popping up two aisles down, right in front of the giant tank of feeder mice. One of the parrots in the massive iron cage in the corner squawks, making me jump.
“No, thank you,” I politely decline. “I’ll stay here and keep a lookout. Be your guard.” The words have barely left my lips when Mr. McTavish slips from the back, his arms full of doggy stuffed animals and his old school headphones secured tightly over his greying head. “Shit.” Rubbing the space between my brows, I mentally plan out how I can get back at her for this.
“You poor babies,” she whimpers, hugging the tank to her chest. “Don’t worry. Your new mommy’s here.”
“Oli,” I murmur, watching as Mr. McTavish drops a toy and struggles to pick it up with his arms full. He still hasn’t seen us, which is no surprise. The man should have retired forty years ago. “How are you going to get them all out of here?” She shoots me a look.
“The backpack.” She turns back to the mice. “Duh.”
“Duh,” I scoff, petting Robert. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Honestly, Eve. Use your brain.” Olive opens the tank of mice, sliding the heavy lid onto the floor with a bang. “Come to Ma—”
“Hey!” a loud voice booms.
I’d been waiting for it, but clearly, my bestie is truly as oblivious as I feared because Mr. McTavish’s shout sends her flying inches from the ground with a scream.
In her panic, Robert’s carrier, still strapped to her chest, smashes into the glass tank. She falls backward and I swear, everything after that happens in slow motion.
Oli’s arms pinwheel as she falls, catching the edge of the tank. It topples onto its side, spilling hundreds of tiny white mice all over the place. The only saving grace is that the glass didn't shatter, but everything else is pure chaos.
“What the hell?” Mr. McTavish shouts. “Oh, no!”
“Holy fucking shit balls,” Oli cries. “The babies!”
“God, no!” I scream, making a mad dash for the checkout counter. I scramble on top of it just as the little white rodents begin their journey to create maximum destruction. “Olive!”
