Page 26 of Liar Byrd
Someone bangs on the door. I ignore that too.
Whoever was banging leaves, and I dry my hair as best as I can with a handful of paper towels.
I have some brown dye on my forehead, right where my hair meets my skin, but I hope it’s not too noticeable. Scrunching my nose, I run my fingers through my hair and realize I should have gone with a slightly lighter shade of brown because this one is dark enough to make me look washed out and pale.
“Oh well,” I mutter to myself. “It’s done now.”
As I wait for my hair to dry a little more, I pull my T-shirt and hoodie back on and sit cross-legged on the floor, emptying the contents of the bag I stole in front of me.
Time to take stock of my supplies.
A quick riffle through the purse turns up a driver's license for Jessica Bradley. Aged twenty-four. Looking at her picture makes me feel guilty all over again.
There’s a credit card in her purse that I won’t use. She would have reported it stolen already, and even if she hadn’t, I’ve taken too much from her already. Other than a bunch of cards for Costco, CVS, and Sephora, there’s nothing else since I already took out the cash.
I move to the bag. Mint. Makeup bag. A romantic thriller with a folded corner marking her last read page. That’s it.
I return everything to the bag, keeping only the driver’s license that I tuck into the front of my jeans pocket. I might needa name to get a job, and I can’t use Byrdie Sloane. Jeremiah and his acolytes know it.
More banging starts up at the door as I get to my feet.
“Whoever is in there, you need to come on out now.”
It’s the voice of someone who will not go away. A security guard, maybe?
I get up, shove all my trash into the plastic bag, dump it in the garbage, and leave Jessica Bradley’s bag in the corner of the bathroom. Her name and address were on some of the cards in her purse. I hope the staff will return it to her, so she can have some of her belongings back.
My hair hasn’t completely dried yet, but it’ll do.
Bracing myself, I twist my lips into a smile as I pull open the restroom door. “Sorry, I was…”
My voice trails off, and my smile slips away at the sight of the hulking, bearded security guard blocking my retreat.
He stares at me.
My heart is an orchestra pounding in my head, and I try to speak, to ask him to move, but I can’t let out even a squeak.
His beard is too short. This is not Jeremiah’s acolyte. You are okay.
“Miss?” His voice comes from light-years away. “Are you okay, miss?”
Maybe he was getting ready to shout at me for staying in the bathroom too long. His eyes are concerned now, and I’m shaking.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
He steps aside.
I bolt, hearing him shout after me, maybe calling me back for the bag I forgot, but the bag isn’t mine, so I ignore him.
Chapter 11
Byrdie
“Bad eggs. The lot of them.” The grocery store owner’s face scrunches up like he took a bite out of a sour lemon.
“I don’t understand?” My fingers tighten around the advert for a maid, since it looks like the grocery store owner is getting ready to snatch it out of my hand.
“You don’t want to work up there.” His green eyes are narrow, and his bulging belly presses against the front counter of the store I slipped into after running from the bus station.
