Page 36 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“I liked the sound of it. Great word. Very versatile.“

“It’s a nickname. As of about three hours ago.”

“Oh? For what?”

So I tell her. The whole thing. The skate, the squelch, the avalanche of Diablo packets. Every single one printed with the same quote like somebody hunted through an entire shipment for a matching set. I tell her the nickname stuck before I even got my sock off, and that I still don’t actually know half these guys beyond a jersey number and a locker assignment. This whole roster only got put together for the Stars and Stripes Tournament, and apparently the fastest way a hockey team builds trust is by ruining each other’s gear. I tell her about Tyson’s jersey and the chirping between players.

“So it’s not just you.”

“It is very much not just me. And now I’m stuck with this nickname.”

“Zesty and dangerous,” she repeats, once she’s got the whole picture, testing the weight of it. “So if you’re Zesty then who’s Dangerous?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you.” I just blurt it out like my mouth has absolutely no communication with my brain.

“Me?”

Why did I say that? I hardly know this girl. Maybe she is dangerous on several different levels. Namely, dangerous for me because I can’t stop thinking about her. Because she’s a distraction and I’m not even mad about it.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think you might be a little dangerous.”

She thinks about it for exactly one second, like she’s trying on a hat in a mirror. “I like it. Zesty and Dangerous. We can be a whole thing. Very Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Bonnie and Clyde robbed banks and died in a hail of bullets.”

“Every love story has its rough patches.” She says it so lightly, so completely without missing a beat. “Did you know that Bonnie was eating a fried bologna sandwich when they ambushed them? Have you ever tried fried bologna? It’s pretty good.”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“You should try it sometime.”

It takes me a full block to register what she actually said.

Every love story has its rough patches.

And by the time I do, she’s already pointing at something else entirely, a dog in sunglasses, a gang of preteens on ebikes doing wheelies in the middle of the street. We walk two more blocks before she peels off toward her building, waving without turning fully around, already halfway into the crowd.

“See you around, Zesty.”

“Count on it, Dangerous.”

She laughs, low and easy, almost musical, then disappears around the corner. I stand there on the sidewalk grinning like an absolute fool and I realize I never once thought to ask her name.

I’ll get it next time, I tell myself, watching her go, and somehow I already believe there will be one.

9

ERICA

Chapter playlist:

We Are Going to Rob It — Daniel Pemberton

Girls Just Want to Have Fun — Cyndi Lauper

The city is settling down for the night completely unaware that in a converted loft, seven women in pajama pants are about to plan the boldest job of their lives over a few bottles of Chardonnay and a Costco haul of junk food.

The loft isn’t really a loft so much as an old auto shop somebody hosed out and stuck a few folding tables in. It’s all exposed brick and concrete floor and one very confused ceiling fan, but it’s got four walls nobody’s watching and enough square footage that seven women can spread out and pretend that this is just a normal girl’s night in.