Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Were they even of this loft?
I hate that I can’t remember.
How are we going to afford this with our country club jobs? Sure, our cut from the Carlsbad job might cover two months’ rent, but after that we’re going to have to figure something out.
I’m starting to wish we did a long con with a multimillion-dollar payout before we came to Victoria. They’re more dangerous, but the money doesn’t run out as fast.
I pull out my phone. “I can Venmo.”
Jake gives me his number, and I send him the payment.
He checks his cell. “We’re good to go after you sign.” His eyes lift to me, and he slips his cell in his pocket.
When it’s my turn to sign, I see all the apologies from Hailey. Those gray irises are pleading, Don’t be mad at me, Phebs, please.
I barely read over the contract, trusting her still. Quickly, I sign my new fake name on the line.
Phoebe Smith.
Jake nods in thanks and gathers the papers together. “One more thing. There’s a charity clambake next month. It’s an annual event, so it’ll be crowded and noisy around here. Just giving you a heads-up.”
Charity clambakes.
Country clubs.
It feels like the life I pretended to be a part of, except I’m not a patron of the club or invited to the clambake. I’m someone on the outside looking in. If I should be excited for something new, then why am I just a tumbleweed of stress?
Jake is gone. Door shut, footsteps echoing away.
Hailey whirls to me in an instant. “I’m really sorry, Phoebe—”
“Three thousand a month?” I interject in shock.
“Wait, you didn’t know?” Rocky frowns.
“No. I thought we were living in a shitty loft that we could actually afford.”
“We can afford this,” Hailey defends. “Look, you know how country clubs work. If we serve the right people, we could earn enough on tips to cover the rent.”
Could being the key word.
It’s a gamble.
“Why did you lie to me?” I ask, trying to bury the hurt in my voice. “You never lie to me. And were those pictures even real?”
Her breath shortens. “Some of them were, yeah. The others . . . I found on Google Photos.”
I got conned.
By my best friend.
Ouch.
“But listen.” Hailey talks quickly, while I stare at my feet. “You wouldn’t have come here if you knew this was the price. And it was the only thing available in town.”
I want to tell her we could’ve lived anywhere else. But it’s not totally true. There are cities and towns I’d never return to just in case certain people remember my face.
And it’s always been hard to stay mad at Hailey. Her intentions weren’t evil, and she’s being up front now. My anger starts to wane, even if being out of the loop feels like spoiled milk in my stomach.
“Loop me in next time,” I tell Hailey. “I promise I’m on Team Hails.”
She smiles softly. “Deal.”
We do our secret handshake that involves two pinky hooks and a fist bump explosion combo. Rocky is flipping through one of the books on the shelves, pretending to ignore us.
My phone rings, the sound shrill in the sudden quiet. I unearth it from my pocket. Both Hailey and Rocky zero in on the cell.
Caller ID: Unknown.
Muscles tighten in my stomach, and I hesitate to hit the big red button. Hang up on them. If someone is calling from a burner phone, it’s likely one of my brothers.
Should I answer? Lie to them?
I can’t lie to Nova or Oliver. Hell, even shutting them out of this new life feels weird. Wrong. Love isn’t sand in an hourglass, able to be flipped and drained the minute it’s turned in a new direction. If anything, the love between my brothers and me is made of steel so thick you’d need wrecking balls and jackhammers to make a dent.
They’re eventually going to realize we’re not going to Seattle. They’re eventually going to panic and come find me like Rocky found his sister.
I’m almost banking on it. Because a big part of me is hoping they do come and play this honest game with me. The other part knows that quitting a life of deceit, for them, is about as likely as Rocky becoming Jesus Christ.
It rings and rings, and my pulse speeds; I’m terrified of being torn in two directions. I’ve already made my decision. Stick by Hailey’s side. So I let the call ring out and bide my time.
Hailey looks a little guilty. “You’re positive you don’t want to talk to them?”
“They’ll call back later.”
And I’ll reject the call again like the worst sister ever. Yay me.
“They will,” Rocky says, too assured. “No one can do the Seattle job without you, Phoebe.”
He doesn’t need to remind me of the next con. The new clip joint scheme has been in the works for a while. I’m numb to the idea. It’s one we’ve pulled before.