Page 66 of Stealing Second

“And my brother’s Santa Claus.” The officer who has her elbow sighs.

I shift my eyes up to him. “Do me a favor. Tell him he was a big fat disappointment to me growing up.”

His lips twitch up then settle back into a straight line. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Jillian smirks. “You know who else is going to be disappointed?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell us.” He rolls his eyes.

“His wife?” Francesca asks. “And this time, not because he sucks in bed, but because he got fired after my fucking family found out he’s a fucking moron.”

“Oh my God, shut up. I can’t go to jail. I have to go to work after the game,” Fawna basically begs.

They open the door with benches around three of the walls.

“Is that room sanitary?” Dromida asks, scrunching her nose.

“I’m a fucking lawyer. You can’t do this,” Francesca yells.

“And I’m a doctor. These two women need medical attention. At least get me a first-aid kit,” Dromida demands.

“And what are you?” one of the officers asks Jillian. “The mayor of Trenton?”

“She’s the Indian chief,” I deadpan.

She starts laughing, and the rest of us do, as well.

Wiping her eyes, she looks out of them through the window that has legit bars. “You guys are so fucked. My brothers are going to kick your asses for putting your hands on me and on this one.” She throws her thumb over at me.

Everyone goes quiet, and then all eyes are on me.

“You know, because you live next door.” She quirks a brow at me, and her eyes, ones just like his, they dance.

“Oh my God, what do you know that her besties don’t?” Francesca asks.

“Hey! I said I need a first-aid kit!” Dromida yells as they walk out, leaving us alone. She tries to turn the door handle, and then kicks it—hard, too. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Who has their phone?” I ask.

“My bag. I must have dropped it.” Francesca snaps, “You’d better find my bag! It’s a fucking Birkin!”

“Mine, too!” Fawna calls out.

“I didn’t bring one, but my phone is missing!” Dromida calls to her.

They look at me.

“Not sure what brand my canvas crossbody is, but I bought it at Marshalls.”

“Me, too,” Jillian adds and looks at the three of them. “It’s a discount store.”

“Where is it located?” Fawna asks, truly curious.

“Typically strip malls.”

“I’d love to go sometime,” Fawna tells her.

“Every girl needs a statement piece.” Francesca looks from her to me.

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