Page 33 of The Sun and the Moon
And for the third time this morning, a burst of heat zips through me, warming all my chilly corners, turning my gray shadows gold with light.
Chapter Fourteen
Sydney
The automatic sliding doors part to let me inside. As soon as I cross the threshold, I change course, gliding around the bank of partitions where patrons fill out deposit slips.Paper deposit slips. I wasn’t aware they even made paper deposit slips anymore. All my checks are direct deposit, and on the rare occasion when I actually need cash money, I just go to the nearest ATM and stick in my card.
I give the room a sweep with my eyes as I come to stand near the popcorn machine. The smell of stale butter fills my nose, and I’m tempted to grab one of the premade bags inside. It’s a sickness, my affinity for garbage food—Ooooh, they also have cookies?Maybe I’ll change banks—
“Ma’am, can I help you?” asks a pinch-faced man with a silver comb-over and garish sweater–vest-jacket combo. I’m offended by the insinuation in his tone and his tight expression. Yes, I am lurking like I’m staking out the place—no need to be rude about it. I shove my Chanel sunnies up into my hair so he can get a look at the irises.
“Just deciding on a flavor,” I reply. “Of cookie.”
“Do you need help with that?” His eyes cut deep. “Or with anything else?” His focus is on my glasses, probably clocking the brand name. He swims in my vision as I try to see behind him to find the one woman I need to get close to in a sea of people.
“I…” I say, stalling with a pause as my eyes search behind him. “No, I don’t need hel—” I cut myself off when my eyes home in on my target. Across the room, Moira is being seated at a desk by a sturdy Black man with an excellent beard. “Actually, I do. I would like to open an account.” My eyes snap to his, which immediately widen with his smile.
Cha-ching, they seem to say.
“Oh, of course, I can absolutely assist you with that. Right this way,” he says, straightening his tie, his glee barely contained. I left my purse in Cadence’s car, my wallet and ID inside. If opening an account gets any further than preliminary chitchat, I’m in trouble.
He motions for me to follow him, and I’m falling immediately into step, eyes on Moira’s position, thoughts on my Louis Vuitton in the front seat of that rental SUV, when I feel a text come through in my back pocket, distracting me.
“Oof,” I gasp, as I nearly topple into my escort.
“Your cookie?” The banker points to the tray of picked-over baked goods that still look incredibly delicious somehow.
“Right, can’t forget that.” I reach for the nearest one, which looks like it’s probably oatmeal raisin, and he clears his throat. His eyes widen as his head gives an almost imperceptible shake. My fingers twitch, hovering, uncertain now.
“Peanut butter,” he says. “Trust me.”
I almost laugh at the straight-faced seriousness he delivers hiswarning with. But I grab the peanut butter instead. He starts walking again, with me close on his heels, in the direction of the section of desks.
“Let’s get you started, Miss…?” he asks, searching for my name.
“Sydney,” I say. “Nice to meet you”—my eyes drop again to his name tag—“Duncan.” Robotic niceties aren’t usually my thing, but they are almost always required on the job. Pilots have to be perceived as kind and reassuring while also maintaining strict boundaries with everyone on board. I’ve developed the skill despite my aversion.
My professional smile is legendary in my fleet.
I turn it on for Duncan and let him lead the way. I need to get close to Moira so I can eavesdrop, but I don’t want to get close to her on the way. Which is what it looks like will happen if we keep walking in this direction, at this trajectory.
I do a quick scan of the surrounding desks. They’re all separated by privacy dividers without being closed off. In the one directly next to her, a couple sit with their chairs close, the man’s arm slung over the woman’s seat. They’re talking to a brunette banker. Any one of them would get me close enough that I could try to listen in, but I don’t want to cross behind and beside her to sit down.
I catch up to Duncan. “Which one’s your desk? I need to pop into the restroom real fast.” I flash my pearly whites. He blinks in the glow and then points toward the desk that’s situated directly on the other side of Moira.Jackpot. Except I’ll have to sneak into the cubicle from a different angle if I don’t want to be seen by her.
“Excellent,” I say. “Can you point me in the direction of the facilities?”
“Just on the other side.” My eyes trail over and up to the simple black rectangle markedRestroomsdangling just beyond the sea of desks.
Fuck.
There is no direct line to them that doesn’t put me potentially in her sights. My brain whirs, the cogs spinning fast, trying to think of a solution. All I want to do is ascertain something, anything, about why she has to come to her bank a day before leaving for a weekend of wine and good times in the Danish capital of the US.
All I want to do is not fuck up the plan again.
“Great,” I say, stepping off before I’ve actually figured out what I’m going to do. “I’ll be right back.” I can feel him tracking my every move, and I can’t blame him for his renewed suspicion. Nothing about the way I’m acting is communicatingtrustworthy future customer—it’s rather more likelow-level heist decoy who’s starting to rethink her line of work.
I can’t go to the bathroom now, because any route I take that isn’t direct will surely get me detained for questioning by Eagle Eyes.I’m going to have to get caught by Moira. The thought dawns on me just as Duncan clears his throat behind me. I can feel him readying a query, and even without looking I imagine him raising his hand, finger lifting. My hovering anxiety is way too squirrelly for the inside of a bank.
