THIEF: Part 1 Read Online Free
Author: Kimberly Malone
want to do it again.
Silas leans in closer, his hand slipping around to the small of my back. “Let’s show these people how it’s done,” he whispers, and presses his sugary mouth against mine.
Chapter Four
We blow through the booths fast. After enough champagne and wine samples, I forget our story. Silas doesn't mind; we have more fun inventing a new one at each table.
“We met online.”
“We met at a furries convention.”
“She was my parole officer.”
“He was my high school history teacher.”
The lies get more and more ridiculous. By the end of the expo, word has spread about the two frauds; vendors start glaring when we walk by, and suddenly the pushy salespeople have no business cards or pamphlets for us.
“We’ve got plenty,” I assure Silas, hefting my swag bag. It’s loaded up with free magnets, keychains, cards and flyers. “Your friends won’t be disappointed.”
“Let’s get out of here before they start a witch hunt. Besides, I’m dying for some real food.” He starts a parade wave as we beeline for the door. “Thank you everyone, thank you! We’ve got a lot of details to hammer out for the big day!”
I can’t stop giggling, even once we’re back in his car. “That,” I manage, out of breath, “was so much more fun than I expected.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I smile at him, realizing I’m considerably drunker than he is, or at least worse at hiding it. “You’re kind of a sleaze, you know that?”
“No,” he corrects, “I’m a mooch. But I make up for it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t take more than I can give back. I like to keep the universe balanced. Keep track of my karma.”
I make a big show of buckling up as he tears out of the lot and onto the highway ramp. “Like volunteering at Fox Ridge—you think that balances stealing a bunch of cake and alcohol from a wedding expo?”
“Well, first of all, it wasn’t stealing. Those were free samples. So what if we’re not engaged? Half the women in that thing aren’t really engaged. They wanted free stuff just as bad as us.” He downshifts, barely slowing down for a stop sign. “And second, as far as the universe is concerned, yes, counseling makes up for a little mooching.” He takes the next exit, where a slew of restaurants sits. Their neon signs buzz and blink impatiently, like they’ve all been waiting for us.
“I don’t believe in karma,” I say, pointing to a bar at the next light. He takes the turn. “It’s all coincidence.”
“Then why, if you don’t mind me asking, are you serving community service at the ranch?” He parks, undoes his seatbelt, and turns off the car, but looks at me instead of getting out. “Is that a coincidence too?”
“No. I broke the law, and I got caught. They slapped me with community service instead of jail, because my record was clean. And because I got the most lenient judge you can get in my county, at least according to my lawyer. So I lucked out, I guess.” I’m not quite drunk enough to add what I really want to say: that tonight, I’m actually kind of glad I got caught, if only because it led me to Silas.
He’s getting serious now, so I brace myself. “You don’t have to tell—”
“Then don’t ask.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, somehow exiting the car rather
Silas leans in closer, his hand slipping around to the small of my back. “Let’s show these people how it’s done,” he whispers, and presses his sugary mouth against mine.
Chapter Four
We blow through the booths fast. After enough champagne and wine samples, I forget our story. Silas doesn't mind; we have more fun inventing a new one at each table.
“We met online.”
“We met at a furries convention.”
“She was my parole officer.”
“He was my high school history teacher.”
The lies get more and more ridiculous. By the end of the expo, word has spread about the two frauds; vendors start glaring when we walk by, and suddenly the pushy salespeople have no business cards or pamphlets for us.
“We’ve got plenty,” I assure Silas, hefting my swag bag. It’s loaded up with free magnets, keychains, cards and flyers. “Your friends won’t be disappointed.”
“Let’s get out of here before they start a witch hunt. Besides, I’m dying for some real food.” He starts a parade wave as we beeline for the door. “Thank you everyone, thank you! We’ve got a lot of details to hammer out for the big day!”
I can’t stop giggling, even once we’re back in his car. “That,” I manage, out of breath, “was so much more fun than I expected.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I smile at him, realizing I’m considerably drunker than he is, or at least worse at hiding it. “You’re kind of a sleaze, you know that?”
“No,” he corrects, “I’m a mooch. But I make up for it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t take more than I can give back. I like to keep the universe balanced. Keep track of my karma.”
I make a big show of buckling up as he tears out of the lot and onto the highway ramp. “Like volunteering at Fox Ridge—you think that balances stealing a bunch of cake and alcohol from a wedding expo?”
“Well, first of all, it wasn’t stealing. Those were free samples. So what if we’re not engaged? Half the women in that thing aren’t really engaged. They wanted free stuff just as bad as us.” He downshifts, barely slowing down for a stop sign. “And second, as far as the universe is concerned, yes, counseling makes up for a little mooching.” He takes the next exit, where a slew of restaurants sits. Their neon signs buzz and blink impatiently, like they’ve all been waiting for us.
“I don’t believe in karma,” I say, pointing to a bar at the next light. He takes the turn. “It’s all coincidence.”
“Then why, if you don’t mind me asking, are you serving community service at the ranch?” He parks, undoes his seatbelt, and turns off the car, but looks at me instead of getting out. “Is that a coincidence too?”
“No. I broke the law, and I got caught. They slapped me with community service instead of jail, because my record was clean. And because I got the most lenient judge you can get in my county, at least according to my lawyer. So I lucked out, I guess.” I’m not quite drunk enough to add what I really want to say: that tonight, I’m actually kind of glad I got caught, if only because it led me to Silas.
He’s getting serious now, so I brace myself. “You don’t have to tell—”
“Then don’t ask.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, somehow exiting the car rather