Page 76 of Reasons We Break

“See?” Maya says softly. “I told you. Embarrassing.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “What if I said I knew a place that needs an accountant, and they don’t care whether you pass your English exams?”

She blinks. “They don’t?”

“Nope. The only language you have to speak is numbers. Interested?”

“I didn’t realize there were jobs here like that.”

“You just have to know the right people.” The bell jangles again; another customer. Maya starts, clearly still skittish, and immediately slinks away to the back. But not before Rajan catches the thoughtful look on her face.

He leans against the cash register and stares through the TV, nearly in disbelief at his luck. Maya’s vulnerable, eager, and, should things go sideways, they have blackmail material—the photos of her buying product. She’s perfect. Not even Nick could deny that now. Rajan should call with this news, right? He should feelhappy.

But he doesn’t. He feels disgusted. With himself.

Maya doesn’t understand the system here. She just accepted there was a job that would look past her lack of credentialing. And Rajan took advantage of it.

He grits his teeth. Fine, then. He’s as bad as the rest of them. But he’ll gladly be a Lion a little longer for Simran’s sake.

Nick doesn’t pick up when he dials. Rajan’s on his fourth try when a customer comes up to the counter with a Gatorade. He whistles at the TV. “Look at that.”

Rajan’s been ignoring the news channel all day. But now he looks at the screen and sees the yellow tape, the headline jumping out.

POLICE WARN GANG WAR ON THE HORIZON

“...children’s playplace broken into just before midnight. There were numerous casualties in the gunfire that followed. But as the story develops, we’ve learned new details—traces of illicit drugs have been discovered hidden under the playplace’s floor. The owners of the business allegedly have connections to the Silver Aces. Police suspect a rival gang stole what appear to be massive quantities of illicit substances...”

Damn. That had to be LS. Rajan knew things were escalating between them and the Aces lately, but this sort of offensive strike seems risky. Did Nick sanction it? There wasn’t any talk of a raid, last time he heard. It must’ve been a quick decision.

He pauses mid-yawn. Then turns back to the TV, and the date in the corner: June 19. It happened yesterday, June 18. Thatdate. What is it about that d—

Simran’s cryptography textbook pops into his head at the same time the customer says, “Pretty wild, huh?”

He’s still waiting at the counter with his Gatorade. Rajan finally turns to ring him up. “Yeah,” he says lowly.“Wild.”

THE KITCHEN OFthe Lions’ café has become as familiar to Simran as her own bedroom, her constant presence marked by the mess. Papers strewn over the desk, scattered pens, a tea mug perched on the cryptography textbook she brought from the library. A calculator discarded in the middle of her work—working with her pen is infinitely more satisfying than pressing buttons. Nothing made that clearer than yesterday.

The Aces’ message was so simple.Move inventory from under playplace to blue semi outside.The euphoria she got cracking it was incredible. She already wants to re-create it.

Which is why she suggested to Nick earlier today that she could help the Lions in other ways.

For example, she’d noticed the dealers that frequented the café for product didn’t really plan their routes. This seemed terribly inefficient. Google Maps, after all, didn’t factor in roads highly frequented by police cruisers, or Silver Ace territory that had to be avoided. How much gasoline was wasted overcorrecting each time? How long did their customers wait? After Simran explained how linear algebra could help map the travel routes that would allow them to meet their product demand, given limitations on labour, vehicle storage space, and time, while minimizing fueling costs, Nick held up a hand, said “Shut up,” and—surprisingly—entrusted her with several more of the books. Zohra came to help upon Simran’s request, too. The Lions’ operations would require insider knowledge to streamline. And that was what they did. For hours.

Now it’s late afternoon. Simran opens her laptop—which apparently she’s allowed to have suddenly, because nobody’s stopping her. No one took her phone either. Not that she’s planning anything sneaky. She just wants to run some calculations through her math program. Zohra left an hour ago, but Simran can’t quit yet.

Her phone buzzes. Simran tears her gaze from her computer to look. It’s TJ.Where are you? I came by your house, but no one answered. Are your parents around?

Herparents. That’s one thing that happened today she doesn’t want to dwell on. She flips her phone over. She’ll talk to TJ later. She’s too tired—and wired—for it right now. The adrenaline from last night kept her up, eagerly awaiting updates from Nick. And then early in the morning, it hit the news.

It was surreal, watching a planshehad masterminded unfolding on TV. There were sirens. Yellow tape. White sheets, but that part didn’t really register. She was so entranced she almost didn’t hear the sound from upstairs...

With effort, Simran focuses back on the numbers. People mill in and out, some even greeting her. She has become a permanent fixture. Trusted. Especially after last night.

But then, there’s a scuffle outside the kitchen doors.

“You’re not allowed in here,” a voice says just beyond them.

“And you think that’ll stop mewhy?”