Page 89 of The Matchmaker Club

We took Beast, considering he was black and could hide more easily than my classic pink car. Lucas nominated me as the getaway driver. He was intent on doing each one himself.

We drove to the first sign on my street, and I almost thought he was about to chicken out. There was a moment—this look on his face that said, “What the hell am I doing?”—but then I reminded him.

“I don’t know why you are mad at me about the whole poison ivy thing. If Frank never showed up with threats of arresting me, you’d be fine.”

He grabbed a sticker and got out of the car. He checked down both ends of the road a few times before planting the painted dot over the deer’s nose. He ran back to the car and slammed the door shut. “Go!” I laughed and shifted into drive.

My only regret was that Beast didn’t have a cassette player.

“You got any music in this thing?” I asked.

He fiddled with his phone and “Bad Reputation” by Joan Jett blared through the speakers.

Perfect song for illegal vengeance.

We hit ten more signs, and by then, he was becoming a pro. He even had the next sticker on his finger, ready and waiting.

When we reached the last one, Lucas handed me Rudolph’s nose. “You want to do it?”

“Yup. Frank deserves it.”

We both got out of the car, and I placed the sticker over the deer’s snout. In that moment headlights beamed onto the sign and I felt hands wrap around me and pull me to the ground. The car slowed down, and we crawled toward the woods.

A car door opened and closed shut.

Fuck.

“Is anyone in there?” a woman asked.

“Looks abandoned,” a man said. “Maybe we should call Hank and Frank.”

Double fuck.

Lucas stood up and walked toward his car before I could stop him.

“Hey, is this your car?”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I had to go and couldn’t wait.”

The guy chuckled. “I get it. Been there myself.” The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “You lost or something?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alrighty then, See ya around.”

“See y’all around,” Lucas said.

I had to cover my mouth at his failed attempt at a Maine accent. I waited for the lights to go away before I stood up.

“That was a close one.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair.

“And still in the clear,” I said.

“Hey, Bonnie, come over here.”

“Yes, Clyde?” I asked, knowing precisely the infamous crime duo he was referring to.

“We have any more signs to deface?” His fingers intertwined with mine.