OLIVIA MADE SURE SHE WAS AT THE COFFEE CLASH EARLY for her date with Ronny. She picked a small table in the corner, obscured by the dessert counter, where she ran minimal risk of being seen by . . . anyone, and opened her copy of Twelfth Night to study one of Viola’s monologues. Mission or no mission, she needed to be prepared for the audition.
One hour, that was all she needed to give Bree. One hour spent dodging Ronny’s octopus hands and avoiding anyone she knew.
Thankfully, she had an exit strategy this time. Kitty would be showing up precisely at five o’clock. It made her feel better, somehow, knowing she had Kitty there looking out for her.
“Babe!” Ronny yelled from the front door of the café.
Ugh. It took all of Olivia’s acting ability to plaster a demure, flirtatious smile on her face as Ronny sat down opposite her.
“Hi,” Olivia said in return. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
She glanced at her cell phone. One hour started now.
Bree crouched behind a large green wastebin and stared at Ronny’s house. She’d been huddled in the backyard for half an hour; her knees dug into the gravel, her back ached, and the stench of rotting leaves and manure was starting to make her nauseous.
She tapped the Bluetooth device in her ear. “You still with me?”
“Don’t do that,” Margot grumbled. “You’re going to make me deaf.”
“Sorry.” She could hear the clack of Margot’s keyboard on the other end as she worked to disable the DeStefanos’ security system. “Almost done?”
“I’ll tell you when I’m done.”
Bree shifted her weight to her heels and arched her back. “Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “You’re not the one hanging out with the garbage.”
“You know I can hear you, right?”
Another few seconds of manic typing, and then Margot let out a long breath. “Okay,” she said. “Try it now.”
Bree crept out from behind the bin and ran swiftly to the back door. The crunch of the gravel beneath her boots sounded cartoonishly loud in the silence of the afternoon, and she paused at the door, listening for any signs of life.
Why was she so paranoid? Ronny was safely engaged at the Coffee Clash, and his dad and stepmom wouldn’t be home from work before six o’clock. She had plenty of time to break in, download the contents of Ronny’s hard drive and email using the passwords cloned from his phone, delete the video, and hustle out of there before Kitty rescued Olivia from her date.
Easy.
“Are you inside yet?” Margot asked.
“Patience is a virtue.” With a deep breath, Bree inserted her skeleton key gingerly into the lock and gave it a jiggle. The back door swung open. “In!” she said. “Heading to Ronny’s room now.”
Blackout shades were drawn over the windows, but the screen saver on Ronny’s computer was bright enough to light Bree’s way into the darkened room. Which was a happy accident because his bedroom was a freaking pigsty.
Clothes were strewn about the bed, desk, and floor like they’d been churned up by a tornado and were left where they fell. Several food-stained plates were piled up on the nightstand, and at least a dozen glasses of half-consumed mystery liquids christened every available surface.
“Must be the cleaning crew’s day off,” Bree said, wrinkling her nose.
“They come Wednesday and Friday,” Margot said.
“Damn, he did all this since Friday?”
“Bree, the computer,” Margot prodded.
“Yeah, yeah.” She had an hour, after all. It would only take about twenty minutes to download Ronny’s hard drive.
Bree picked her way toward Ronny’s desk, avoiding a pizza box with unknown contents and several pairs of dirty tighty-whities that made bile gurgle up the back of her throat.
“What an incredible smell you’ve discovered,” she murmured.
“Did you just quote Star Wars?” Margot asked.
“No,” Bree said quickly. “Maybe.”
John was clearly wearing off on her.
“Okay,” Bree said, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Logging in to his computer now.”
Kitty swung through the door of the Coffee Clash right on schedule.
Ronny’s back was to her as she approached the register, but Kitty watched as Olivia quickly drew her hand across her chest from left shoulder to right, signaling that she was ready for extrication.
“Can I help you?” the barista asked.
Kitty reluctantly pulled her gaze away from Olivia and Ronny. “I’ll have a small—” Kitty started as she recognized the barista. “Barbara Ann?”
“Hi, Kitty.” Barbara Ann smiled; her eyes did not.
Kitty stared at her former teammate, unsure what to say. Barbara Ann Vreeland had been a sophomore at Bishop DuMaine when Kitty was a freshman, and had been captain of the junior varsity girls’ volleyball team until she was expelled from school after being implicated in a grade-fixing scandal. The last time Kitty had seen her, Barbara Ann had tried to recruit Kitty into the scheme by offering her a passing grade in geometry. The scandal had broken two days later, and Kitty hadn’t seen Barbara Ann since.
“How are you?” Kitty said lamely.
Barbara Ann shrugged. “Good, I guess. I’m at Gunn now.”
Kitty tilted her head to the side. If Barbara Ann was at Gunn, they should have played each other at volleyball.
“I don’t play anymore,” Barbara Ann said, as if reading Kitty’s mind.
“But . . . but you were amazing,” Kitty stammered. “Pro level. I thought—”
“Oooooooh,” Olivia groaned from her table. She grabbed her stomach, doubling over in pantomimed pain.
The Coffee Clash was half-empty, but several patrons glanced in Olivia’s direction.
“Babe?” Ronny said nervously, not moving from his seat.
“My stomach,” Olivia cried. She writhed in her chair.
“Are you okay?”
Olivia stumbled forward out of her chair, bracing herself against the dessert counter. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
That was Kitty’s cue. She wanted to talk to Barbara Ann, find out why she wasn’t playing anymore, and if that was somehow her fault. But they were on a tight schedule. With a weak smile at her old teammate, she stepped toward Olivia. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”
Olivia jabbed at her stomach below her rib cage. “Here. It’s like I’ve been stabbed.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Ronny said, slowly rising to his feet. “I never touched her.”
Kitty fought to keep from rolling her eyes.
“It must be your appendix,” Kitty said instead, sounding like an extra on a medical drama. She snatched Olivia’s purse off the back of her chair. “We need to get her to the hospital. Now.”
Ronny’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Right. Um, should I take her? Or, I mean, do you have a car?”
“It hurts!” Olivia sobbed.
Were those real tears streaming down her face? Wow, she really was an amazing actress.
“Come on,” Kitty said, putting an arm around Olivia. “I’ll take you.”
Kitty took one last glance over her shoulder as she escorted a groaning Olivia out of the café. The rest of the patrons had returned to their conversations, but three heads were turned in their direction. Barbara Ann’s stare was hard; Ronny’s, dumbfounded. And in the back of the café, Theo Baranski gazed at her, eyes wide, watching their retreat.
“How much longer?” Margot asked. Bree could picture her, manically checking the clock every thirty seconds, paranoid that they were behind schedule.
“Two minutes.”
“Finally,” Margot said sharply.
“Not my fault his ancient laptop was so slow. Freaking PCs.”
A soft chime echoed through Bree’s earpiece. “Kitty just texted,” Margot said. “She and Olivia left Ronny at the Coffee Clash. His drive time is approximately sixteen minutes in rush hour traffic.”
“Then I’ll be out of here in five.”
Bree stared at the download progress bar, which kept changing its mind as to how much time was left. It taunted her, jumping from thirty seconds, to sixty, to ninety, then back to thirty. Come on. Her fingers tapped impatiently against Ronny’s desk as she glared at the screen, mentally threatening it with physical harm if it didn’t hurry up and finish.
“Cut it out,” Margot said, her voice edgy. She was losing her cool.
“Cut what out?”
“Tapping your fingers against the desk.”
Bree paused. “How can you possib—” She stopped midword as a faint creak broke the silence of the room, followed by an almost imperceptible patter, like bare feet retreating down the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Margot asked.
“Sh!” Bree sat frozen, listening, but the sound of footsteps had vanished. Silently, she swung Ronny’s desk chair around to face the bedroom door, which was closed.
Did she close the door? She was pretty sure she’d left it open. Maybe a breeze swung it shut? Or maybe the DeStefanos had a cat?
Or maybe it was a person.
“What happened?” Margot whispered. “Bree, are you—”
DING! The download was complete. Finally.
“Nothing,” Bree said, quickly ejecting the flash drive. “Just thought I heard something.”
“Okay,” Margot said slowly. “Did you delete the video of Mika?”
Bree swirled the mouse across the screen and with a few deft clicks, the video was erased from Ronny’s computer permanently. “Done,” she said. “Now I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
“You have twelve minutes,” Margot said.
Bree’s hands trembled as she eased Ronny’s desk chair back to the exact spot she’d found it. Why was she so skittish? If anyone had been in the house and actually seen her at Ronny’s desk, they would have either confronted her on the spot or called 911. A distinct lack of blaring sirens in the distance meant it had all been a figment of her imagination.
She carefully threaded her way back to the bedroom door and was about to swing it open with her foot when something caught her eye. Taped to the back of Ronny’s door was a list of names.
Coach Creed
Rex Cavanaugh
Theodore Baranski
What possible connection could exist between a dickwad teacher, the biggest douche at school, and a bullying victim?
“Ten minutes,” Margot said. “Are you done yet?”
Bree shook her head and nudged the door open. Whatever the reason, it didn’t affect the mission. “Exiting the house now.”
As soon as her car rounded the corner at the end of the block, Kitty held up her hand for a high five. “Nice job.”
Olivia slapped Kitty’s hand with all the ferocity of a butterfly. Oh well, at least she was getting into the spirit. “It felt so good. I mean, it’s like those interactive theater shows in New York. The exhilaration is absolutely amazing and . . .” She paused midthought. “Hey, did you know that barista?”
“No,” Kitty lied.
“Oh. I thought I saw you guys talking,” Olivia said, still chattering away at a mile a minute. “Sorry if I interrupted, but I couldn’t take another second of Ronny.”
“Did you see Theo in the café?” Kitty asked, desperate to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Barbara Ann.
“Theo Baranski?”
Kitty nodded. “In the back corner.”
“Huh,” Olivia said.
Kitty pictured the look on Theo’s face as she escorted Olivia from the café. He wasn’t concerned or worried, he was confused, as if seeing Kitty and Olivia together was as strange and out of place as a polar bear in the desert, which might be a problem if he remembered seeing them together with Ronny after their revenge against him went public.
Kitty’s cell phone buzzed. She waited for a stoplight, then checked her incoming text. “Margot says that Bree successfully downloaded his hard drive and deleted the video,” she said. “I’d say, phase one accomplished.”
Olivia sighed as Kitty rolled up in front of her apartment building, visibly relieved that her role was over. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” Kitty nodded. “Don’t get mad.”
Olivia smiled. “Get even.”
