Page 44 of Illicit Games

On the last shelf, I catch the pair of heels that I haven’t stopped thinking about for months. Rushing toward it, I pick it off the display and sigh in admiration.

Gosh! They’re stunning.

A shiny metallic fuchsia color. Five-inch heel. A complete showstopper.

Turning it over, I check if they’re in my size and become giddy when they are. Walking over to the sofa, I put them on.

“Gorgeous,” a sweet voice utters.

My head snaps toward the girl sitting beside me. She’s from the group of friends. “Thanks. I’ve been wanting these for months now.”

“They look lovely.” She sighs dreamily, staring at my feet.

Grinning, I stand up and walk closer to the mirror. Looking at the heels, I fall in love. Quickly snapping a picture, I text it to my group chat with Rosalie and Bianca. Locking my phone, I trot back to the sofa and switch back to my sneakers. Grabbing my purse from the side, I make my way to the billing register with the heels in hand.

“I would like to buy these,” I say to the cashier, grateful the salesgirls aren’t around.

“Cash or card?”

“Card.” I pass it to her. “Here.”

I’m spending half my salary, but it’s so worth it. As soon as the man hands me the bag, I move toward the electric doors.

A shrill siren pierces my eardrums as I take a step outside. I’m confused as to what’s happening when suddenly the shoe bag and tote are yanked from my arms. A security guard glares at me, blocking my exit.

“What are you doing?” I cry out.

Passing my items to the mean salesgirl, who has a smug look on her face, the security man says, “Ma’am, we need to check your purse.”

It dawns on me that the siren was a warning meant for a shoplifter.

“You’re mistaken. I paid for those heels,” I defend. “I have the bill.”

“What about this pair, hmm?”

I stare in horror as the salesgirl dangles a different pair from inside my purse. “I didn’t take it. I swear.”

“Yeah, right,” she sneers.

“I… I’ve no idea how they got there…” I trail off, distracted by a giggling noise from my right. It’s those three girls, laughing behind their hands. While the one who complimented me smirks.

Oh my god! She did it.

“Call the police.”

“What? No!” I yell, alarm rattling me. “I didn’t steal them.”

“What’s going on?” a menacing Seth demands, appearing out of thin air. “Miss Mannan?”

Before I can answer, the uppity salesgirl beats me to it. “She stole shoes. You can bail her out once the cops take her.”

Mortified, I stammer, “She’s lying, Seth. I would never.”

“If she says didn’t, she didn’t,” he states to the guard and the staff. “Check the footage and show proof before you go accusing someone.”

The girl’s face blanches.

Panic descends on the trio of teen girls, and they slip past us without a word before I can blame them. I want to get out of here with a little bit of dignity intact.