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‘Why not? Do you have a giant tattoo on your stomach that no one’s allowed to see?’

No tattoos, and my bruises had faded into barely there shadows, so I couldn’t even use that to my benefit.

‘I am not a cropped-shirt kinda girl.’

‘Exactly.’ She turned to me and put her hands on her hips.

Shit .

‘You’re not supposed to be you. You’re supposed to be a college student.’

I didn’t have a good response to that, and Brooke smiled, knowing she’d won.

‘I need to find you some props,’ she said and turned on her heel, stalking off into the darker depths of Target. I followed her wearily, still questioning whether this was a good idea.

‘Run it again,’ Brooke said.

I rolled over to bury my face in the pillow and groaned. ‘No.’

We were back in the hotel room, chilling out before the evening, and Brooke was determined to have me repeat our story until it became second nature. No more tripping over my lies.

‘Jessie,’ she said, her voice stern. She’d started calling me Jessie all the time now, and I was happier about that than I’d ever tell her. ‘Run it again. Who are you?’

‘Jenna Roberts.’ I rolled back over to stare at the ceiling. Coming up with a new last name had been simple – my dad’s name was Robert, and Jenna was starting to roll off my tongue easily enough.

‘Where are you from?’

‘Tacoma. I’m a student at the University of Puget Sound.’

‘Go UPS!’

Tipping my head to look at her, I laughed and raised an almost enthusiastic fist-pump. ‘Woo-hoo!’

‘What are you studying?’

‘English Lit and Spanish.’

We were keeping much of the story as close to the truth as we dared, and since I was taking AP English Lit and Spanish, it made lying easier.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To St. Louis, with my cousin, for a funeral,’ I replied quickly. ‘Grandpa Jim.’

‘Hell of a long journey.’

‘I’m scared of flying.’

‘Why here? Why this hotel?’

‘Needed to stop for the night. Not allowed to stay in motels – it’s not safe.’

‘Who’s paying?’

‘My dad,’ I said with a cynical smile. I was sure he hadn’t paid for anything for me in years.

She nodded. ‘You’re getting there.’

While she was grilling me, Brooke had been getting ready.

Her hair was pulled back in two long, thick braids and pinned into an updo that looked elegant but still practical.

She’d put on a lot more makeup than I’d ever seen her wear before, her eyes dark and smoky behind long lashes.

It made her look older, more sophisticated, and less like the Brooke who had checked in at the front desk earlier.

I didn’t know eye makeup could be such a good disguise.

She’d changed, too, into our familiar St. Catherine’s uniform. I’d found the silky blue neck scarf the hotel staff wore when I’d gone to use the guest laundry room – a bunch of them had been left in a bag on the counter. Slipping one into my pocket had been easy. My first theft of the night.

Brooke tied it with a flourish and adjusted it so the knot sat on the side of her neck.

She caught my eye in the mirror and saw me chewing my bottom lip. Stealing the neck scarf had been one thing. I still wasn’t convinced about what was coming next, though, and she could clearly sense my hesitation.

‘Stop worrying,’ she said, and turned around to face me. ‘Look, if it doesn’t work out, just come back up here and hang out until I’m done.’

‘Chicken out, you mean,’ I said hotly.

‘It’s not chickening out, it’s being sensible. If you don’t think you can make a clean lift, then don’t bother. It’s better to back out than to be caught.’

‘Okay,’ I said softly.

‘I’m serious, Jessie. Don’t get fucking caught.’

I nodded, determined not to let her down, and rolled off the bed. I instinctively tugged at the hem of the T-shirt to make it cover my belly. Which it didn’t.

Brooke had already styled my hair for me, pulling it back on the side with clips. She’d bought me a copy of Pride and Prejudice , multicolored pens and a pair of oversize tortoiseshell glasses with plain glass in them, since my eyesight was fine. I was allowed to wear my own jeans, thank God.

She’d only made a few tweaks to my appearance, but I was pretty sure my own mother would double-take before she recognized me.

That was one small reassurance. I didn’t look like me – the old me – so maybe I could step into a new persona and be Jenna for the night.

Jenna wasn’t Jessie, after all. Jenna was cool and confident and smart.

‘I’m going down now,’ Brooke said, wriggling in the tight skirt so it sat right on her hips. ‘I can’t wait around anymore.’

‘Break a leg,’ I said, too scared to smile.

Brooke grinned and winked at me. ‘You too.’

I watched her slip out of the room, her flirty wink leaving me with brand-new butterflies in my stomach.

At nine p.m., the bar was busy.

I’d waited in the room for a while, pacing and practicing my lines and trying to settle my nerves, before heading back down to the lobby. I picked my seat strategically, on the far side of the curved marble bar, which put my back against a wall and gave me a good view across the room.

‘What can I get you?’ the bartender asked as I hooked the handle of my backpack on the purse hook under the lip of the bar. I took my jacket off, too, and folded it across my lap.

‘Could I get a Coke and a bowl of French fries?’

He nodded and set a black square napkin down in front of me.

I took stock of both the layout of the bar and its patrons while the bartender poured my drink.

There seemed to be a few people around who were wearing jeans and casual dresses, as well as all the guys in suits.

Brooke had already prepped me for that, and how I needed to establish myself in the room before making a move.

I took the paperback and pens out of my backpack and set them on the bar, leaving the bag unzipped at the top. Back in the room we’d given the book a decent beating to make it look like I’d been reading it for a few days already, dog-earing pages and breaking the spine.

Chapter Fifteen.

Mr. Collins was not a sensible man …

I’d read the book before, so it didn’t take long to get into the swing of it, randomly underlining various passages as I went along.

The bartender brought me my drink, and I nodded my thanks, and ten minutes later a waiter came over with a decent portion of fries, with condiments on the side in tiny white ramekins.

From my vantage point I could see the clocks on the wall behind the check-in desks, and right when Brooke had said they would, businessmen started appearing at the bar.

She had found a program for the convention, so we knew the dinner finished at ten, before the ‘casino and dancing’ portion of the evening started.

By ten thirty the place was packed with people moving back and forth between the ballroom and the bar.

I kept my head down, scrawling brightly colored notes in the margins of the book, and waiting for someone to get close enough.

Getting here early had been good for me.

I was still more nervous than I’d ever been in my life – and that was saying something for a person who was perpetually anxious – but I’d claimed my spot and I knew what I was doing. In theory.

‘What are you reading?’

Bingo.

The guy was old, older than my mom for sure, with light-brown hair that was going gray at his temples.

I turned the book over and smiled as I held it up to him.

‘Ah, Austen. A classic,’ he said pretentiously.

‘It’s an assigned text for my class.’

‘Enjoy.’

He’d sized me up now, and, having deemed me too young to make a move on, smiled politely and turned to his friend so I was left staring at the back of his head.

His jacket was unbuttoned and hung loose at his waist. All my nerves crept into my throat, making me breathe faster and harder, and my vision blurred around the edges.

None of that mattered, though. No one was looking at me.

It was now or never.

I stretched down to scratch my leg and, as my hand moved back up, I reached into his jacket pocket and slowly, carefully, plucked out his wallet.

It was heavy.

Shit.

Shit!

Moving leisurely – people noticed quick movements – I dropped the wallet into my open backpack.

And … that was it.

He didn’t notice.

Neither did anyone else.

Nothing changed – the noise of dozens of buzzing conversations continued, the bartender kept working the bar, people kept drinking their drinks.

Nothing happened.

In my chest something was happening, though: my heart had worked its way up through my chest to lodge in my throat, and all my blood had redirected to rush in my ears. I forced myself to breathe slowly, calming my nerves and releasing the tension that had gathered in tight knots along my spine.

I flipped a page in my book, having read absolutely nothing.

I sipped my Coke, slurping the last drops from among the ice.

‘Another?’

I startled so hard I almost fell off the barstool.

‘Sorry,’ the bartender said, laughing awkwardly. ‘I didn’t realize you were so absorbed.’

‘No, it’s my fault.’ I forced myself to smile at him. ‘I should pay more attention.’

‘Do you want another?’ he repeated, gesturing to my empty glass.

‘Please.’

I picked at the fries to give me something to do with my hands. They were cold now, as I’d been too nervous to eat before. The man whose wallet I’d stolen moved away with his beer, not even glancing back at me. A few seconds later, his space filled with someone else.