Always/Never

Chapter 16 / The Heist

There was something beautiful about watching Accha put on her makeup.

She lived in front of the hotel mirror that extended from the ceiling to the floor, using the chair by the desk. Her bag, shaped like a pink bow, held eyeliner and mascara. Her hands moved like an orchestra conductor as she reached for each item. All of them bore fresh price stickers in bright white.

I lived on the bed. Not quite sitting, not quite lying down. One hand anchored by my side, tingling.

When she turned her head, her gaze in the mirror connected with mine. The faint smile she gave sent my heart in a spiral.

"Time?" she asked in an almost whisper.

"You're not going to be late for your meeting."

She hummed as she applied the eyeliner. The light purple pencil formed two lines under her eyes. "Twenty minutes early for Parkland is late."

"Well, then he needs to get a more accurate clock."

Her arm lowered so she could cast me a glare without ruining her line. Jutting out her lower lip, she faced the mirror once more without having to say a word. Once she finished, she tipped her head to the clothes on her bed.

"The sweater is for you," she said.

I held it out. The knit was black, like her suit and mine. At least I'd been able to repurpose the slacks by using the auto-knitter to tailor them at the ankles. My residence room key had made quick work of the seams preventing me from having a functional pocket. Now all I had on me were my two inventions and my phone.

We got ready. I fixed my contacts, smoothing my wig until each strand was flat. I grabbed another granola bar from her on the way to Jessamine's car. In the console, I rooted around for some gum among the sanitizing wipes and insurance company cards.

I need a huge speech. Pre-game wisdom. Or coffee.

My unease churned within me.

What if it doesn't work?

Crossing one leg over the other, I chewed my gum. Parkland's handler office blended in with the other small brick buildings in the centre of the city. Only the banner in the window, a light-up Horizon logo, marked it from the rest. Accha pulled into the parking lot peppered with cars and fiddled with the collar of her turtleneck.

Such an unfitting top for the weather. From her, who used to tease me for wearing sneakers in the snow, no less. She pulled at it to scratch her collarbone. A scar, hypertrophic, traced from underneath her throat to the lateral end by her shoulder. It left a dark, red-pigmented curve. I didn't know how she'd gotten it.

The clock on the dashboard flashed to thirty minutes before Accha's meeting. "This should take me an hour," she said as she opened the door.

I nodded and got out after her. Near the entrance door, which announced our arrival with the clang of a bell, chairs pressed against the floral wallpaper. On the wall, various handler licenses hung.

On my cue, I said, "I'll wait for you here."

Accha approached the front desk. A potted plant with leaves like a twisting serpent perched by the phone. Once checked in, she strolled to the hallway beside the cooler room and disappeared. Nothing but the trigger-click of Parkland's door closing was left in her wake.

I counted the doors and the cameras. Bathroom to the right. Red lights trained on the front desk, the exit door, the cooler room, and the offices. I chewed the gum until it got stale, getting up to ask for the nearest trash can.

The employee pointed to the cooler room. "There's one behind the door."

I nodded, clutching the laser in my pocket. As I turned, the employee said, "Oh, if you're bored, take this."