Page 192 of Cashmere Ruin

Because they’re exactly like mine.

“Uhh…” Petra says, uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Petra…” April pipes up, her pitch an octave higher. “How would you feel about another heist?”

“This is stupid,” Petra mutters.

“No, it’s not,” April retorts. “It’s our only play.”

“They’re never gonna fall for it.”

“You’re seriously overestimating these guys’ IQ.”

“But—”

“Stop fucking around,” I hiss through my teeth from my position on the floor, trying to move my lips as little as possible. “You wanna bevor? This is your audition.”

“That’s discriminatory,” she grumbles. “I was gonna makevorbefore I got pregnant. I didn’t need an audition.”

“I’ll be sure to let HR know of your complaints.”

“Alright, enough sass,” April whispers. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

With one final huff, Petra obeys. “AAAAAHHHHH!!! MY BABY!!!”

I grimace. When we said for her to “scream like a gutted pig,” I wasn’t expectingthislevel of a performance.

Oh, well. The louder the better.

“Help!” April rushes to the bars. “She’s bleeding!”

I crack an eye open just in time to catch the guards exchanging a look. If it were me, I’d have told them not to get close for any reason, especially after April managed to dupe the previous shift exactly like this.

But this isn’t April. This is a different hostage.

A hostage who matters to their boss.

“Hurry!” April insists. “What are you waiting for?!”

“W-we…” one of the guards stutters. His eyes clearly fix on me. But like this, bathed in darkness as I am, he can only glimpse my frame.

“He’s knocked out; he can’t do anything!” April sighs in frustration. “Look, if it’s me you’re worried about, you can cuff me to the bars. Just?—”

“AAAHHH! IT HURTS TOO MUCH! JUST KILL ME, PLEASE!”

“Tone it down, Cameron Diaz,” I mumble out of the side of my mouth. “There’s no Oscar on the table for you.”

She gives me a half-shrug as if to say,You never know.

Then she proceeds to mimic a seizure.

“Cuff her!” the second guard shouts to his colleague before rushing to the door. “I’ll get the other one out!”

April obediently sticks out her already-cuffed hands. Her guard fumbles with the keys for a second, trying to figure out how to uncuff her and cuff her back around the bars with the smallest delay possible. He’s been warned; he thinks he needs to worry about her.

He’s wrong.

He needs to worry aboutme.