Page 65 of Once Upon a Lie

“Um . . . two?”

“Shane!” My eyes go wide. “That’s definitely not good! Three strikes and you’re out!”

He groans like he’s in pain. “I don’t even know where to find the chores, Teeny. I say we all just revolt and tell Rita she can shove the chore board straight up her—”

“She posts them in the lobby. But I’m pretty sure she sent them in our group chat earlier this month,” I ramble, scrolling until I find the right thread. “Okay, yeah, found it!” I scan the list for his name. “Shane Maddox, 1807, in charge of cleaning the gym. You didn’t happen to do that just, like, as a hobbyist, did you?”

“No.” Shane shakes his head. “Afraid not. I haven’t even seen the gym.”

“Oh boy.” I sigh. “Shane, three violations in thirty days and you’ll be exiled from Magnolia. Rita’s probably already got your name on the dartboard.”

He groans. “I didn’t even know there was a dartboard.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not a surprise,” I retort. “You didn’t read the onboarding manual.”

“Shit.”

Alfred chuckles, shaking his head. “My couch is pretty comfortable, Shane. You know, for when you get kicked out.”

Shane gestures toward Alfred like that’s a grand idea, but I shake my head, jumping to my feet.

“We’ll go right now. You can still make the deadline.”

“Go?” he repeats. “As in go clean the gym right now? It’s late.”

“Yes. Do you have a better plan? Or did you want to be the guy in his late thirties crashing on the couch of a man he just met?”

He sighs. “Rita’s lucky you’re so pretty.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said motivating,” he corrects with a smirk. “Rita’s lucky you’re so motivating.”

“I’ll be back, Alfred,” I say as I grab my purse from the kitchen counter.

Alfred laughs as we head for the door. “You two kids have fun breaking and entering.”

“Not breaking. Just entering!” I call over my shoulder. “We have key fobs!”

21

Shane

11:10 p.m.

It’s a little after eleven when we sneak across the street toward Magnolia Condos.

Correction, Teeny sneaks.

I follow while trying not to laugh, and she keeps glancing back at me like we’re Bonnie and Clyde instead of two idiots about to mop a gym.

I eat it up every fucking time.

She insisted we wear “all black, for stealth,” made us make a pitstop at a Walgreens about half a mile from our building and purchase the items for our heist—that’s what she keeps calling it—and has been walking on tiptoes like a cartoon-style thief for the last block and a half.

She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and that’s why, against my better judgment and all credible law enforcement sensibilities, I’m following behind her, wearing a black sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and a black hat like I’m auditioning for a middle-school production of Ocean’s Eleven.

Walgreens was low on “heist” outfits for women, so Valentina is in a very oversize version of my attire, and the only thing that would make it better is if it were mine.