Page 83 of The Boyfriend Experience

She stares at me, silent for several painful moments as the animosity between us builds. Then she says, “So you’ve made up your mind already? Or are you interested in the other side of the story?”

“What other side?” I laugh. “I mean…” I pan my hand to her. Then to her apartment. “You even have a fucking buffalo painted on the front of your building.”

More silence from her as she watches me. Then, “So you’re going to stay and hear me out? Or you’re going to leave and take all your preconceived notions with you?”

“Whatever,” I say, taking a few steps further into the apartment. “Talk then. But I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you can say that will explain”—I hold up both my hands—“this.”

“Well,” she says, walking over to the countertop where there’s two bottles of Buffed Up waiting for us. She uses a bottle opener to pop off the tops, then turns, hands me one—which I take on instinct—and says, “You’d be wrong, Lawton Ayers. There’s twenty-eight years to this story that you have no clue about. Because none of it fits into the bullshit narrative that Oaklee Ryan sold you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - OAKLEE

Shrike Bikes is closed by the time I get over there, but Sick Girlz is open and there’s a side entrance though the alley, so that’s where I go in. The shop is busy. Buzzing from the back tells me that there are several artists working tonight and there are two groups of customers sitting on various couches and chairs waiting for tattoos.

But Vivi is at the front desk, filing her hot-pink nails, when I walk in. “I’m ready,” she says, jumping up off her stool and coming around the counter holding a black, drawstring bag.

I nod, then turn around and walk out, my pink-haired friend at my side. “You’re sure about this?” I ask her.

“Nothing to it,” she says, walking over to my car and getting in the passenger side.

I get in too, then look at her, unsure if I should really go through with this. “The last time you said that we ended up in jail.”

She shrugs. “Hey, that’s the price you pay when you need things you don’t have.”

“Vivi—”

“I got this, OK? We’re good. She’s not gonna know. And you’ve got Lawton over there, right?”

“Yes, he’s probably with her right now.” God, I’m so angry about that.

“Then at least we know she’s busy. Trust me. You absolutely need to do this.”

I do trust her. Mostly because Vivi is badass, but also because she’s well connected here in Colorado. If we do get in trouble like we did last time, she has ways out of things. She has people who will swoop in and take care of shit.

So I take a deep breath, start the car, and pull out of the alley and make my way up towards the freeway.

She talks about all kinds of things as I drive, like this is no big deal. I just listen, say nothing, and chew on my thumbnail as we enter Boulder and I find parking a good six blocks away from Hanna’s Pearl Street storefront.

She takes off her leather jacket as we get out of the car, hands me a pair of leather gloves, and once we put those on, we’re both dressed in black from top to bottom.

“I feel like a cat burglar,” I say as we walk. Vivi is swinging her little black drawstring bag like we’re just out for a stroll.

She looks at me. I catch a brazen gleam in her eyes. A glint of light reflecting under the yellow street lamps. “Meow,” she purrs. And then she hits me in the shoulder and says, “Relax. You need proof, Oaklee. And that’s what we’re going to get tonight. My plan is perfect. Nothing’s gonna happen and even if it does—”

Here it comes, I think to myself.

“—I’ll just call my cousin Oliver and he’ll fix it.”

I decide to agree with her. Because what choice do I have? I need to put a stop to Hanna Harlow before she ruins me for good.

We don’t bother entering Pearl Street like all the other pedestrians because we have no intention of walking through the front door. No. We head straight to the alley and a few minutes later we’re standing under a fire escape attached to the Buffalo Brews building, looking up at it.

“OK,” Vivi says. “This bitch uses a subsidiary of my cousin’s security company and I worked there for three years as a teenager and know all the backdoors. So it was super easy to hack while I was waiting for you to show up. Now all you gotta do is boost me.” She makes two fists around the bars covering the alley windows on the first floor and says, “I’ll grab it, get it down, and then we can go up together.”

“That’s gonna make a shit ton of noise,” I whisper.

“That’s why I have this,” she says, opening up her bag so I can see the can of WD-40 inside. “Trust me. This is not my first fire-escape rodeo, Oaklee.”

And for a second I wonder what Vivi Vaughn does in her spare time? Is breaking and entering just another Monday night to her?