Trust Me, I'm Trouble Read Online Free Page B

find out? He flew to New York this morning, and it’ll be fixed before he gets back, so…” I let Murphy fill in the you-better-not-say-anything blanks himself.

    “That’s one way of handling it, I guess,” he says, shaking his head at me.
    Dani and Steve, the gun-desk guy, are talking with a couple of police officers near the building’s entrance. The officers are taking notes, Steve is gesticulating with his long, scrawny arms, and Dani is quietly brooding. I see the lines of tension in her body. She’s a coiled spring about to pop through the leather upholstery.
    “I’d better get her out of here,” I say.
    As I approach the group, Dani’s eyes snap to mine. She looks like a caged animal. I imagine I looked much the same when I waltzed into the MCC to try to post bail for Sam after Mike arrested him at the dance last year.
    It’s not that we criminals are afraid of cops, exactly. I certainly didn’t hold back when I railed at Mike for betraying me and arresting my partner, despite being in the heart of FBI territory. But there’s something inherently wrong about being within spitting distance of someone who’s your polar opposite. It’s like it messes with the space-time continuum. If Sam were here, he’d use some bizarre hacker analogy about mutual exclusion programming. But Sam isn’t here, so I have to settle for imagining him saying it.
    I take Dani’s arm and begin to slowly extract her from the group. “You got this, right, Steve?” I give him my most winsome smile.

    “Sure,” he says.
    “Wait, we’re not done with our questions,” says the female officer. She’s shorter than her partner, but not by much.
    I hand her my card. “I’m sorry, we need to be somewhere. But you can call me anytime, and I’ll be happy to answer any further questions.” I’m backing away, pushing Dani behind me. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate everything you and the Des Plaines police force are doing for us. And rest assured we will continue to help in whatever way we can.”
    And before Officer Lady can get a word in edgewise, I’m shoving Dani into the front seat of the van. I climb over her, shutting the door behind me and strapping myself into the jump seat Murphy installed behind the driver’s seat.
    “Next stop, coffee,” Murphy says as he starts the engine.
    “Thanks, Murphy,” I say, inching over enough to put my hand on Dani’s arm. “Dani?”
    She’s staring out the window as we pass the Chevelle. I can’t help but feel like we’re leaving an injured friend behind in enemy territory. I’m sure Dani feels ten times worse.
    “I can fix it,” I say.
    She doesn’t answer.
    • • •
    St. Agatha’s in late May is an explosion of roses. I don’t know who the rose nut was who planted them all, but now the poor groundskeepers are forever pruning, deadheading, spraying, and staking. The ivy up the side of the administration building is bad enough, but the roses add a whole new level of angst. I mostly try to ignore them and how they smell like my mom.

    I open the door leading to the Brockman Room and pass the portraits of dead white men frowning knowingly at me as I climb the stairs. They don’t bother me anymore, though. We have an understanding. I keep playing Robin Hood, and they keep their judgment to a minimum.
    I trot up the carpeted stairs to the administration offices. I always feel a bolt of dread when my feet hit the second floor. Dean Porter’s office is up here, so it’s a conditioned response. But I’m not here to see the aggro dean of students today. Besides, at four in the afternoon, she’s usually out doing campus rounds.
    “Can I help you?” asks a freckled student assistant. A junior. Karla…something.
    “I want to apply for the New World Initiative summer internship program. It says online that I need to fill out the application through the Professional Development Office.”
    Karla taps something into her computer. “The application deadline for