“Is it fake?” Maya asked. “Are you working on a costume or something?”
I sighed, setting the case gently on the top shelf of a cabinet far from their hands. “It’s… grown-up stuff.”
“Like bills?”
“Yes. Very boring, dangerous bills.”
Aliya narrowed her eyes. “You’re hiding treasure.”
“Of course not,” I changed the subject by tossing them more fries.
Later that Night…
Once they passed out from the sugar crash of a century, I sat alone at the kitchen table, phone in hand, notes app open, money still hidden, gun safely locked in the broken breadbox I rigged with a padlock.
I opened a new note.
THE PLAN:
Lose weight. (This body is dying just from stairs. I will not let my knees betray me like this.)
Hire a professional cleaning service. (This place smells like crayons and despair.)
B
