Page 52 of The Brat: Prequel

I blink.

Me: You’re too smart to get caught by the cops

Maxim: Chains come in many guises.

Me: You’re being irritatingly vague

Maxim: Ask O’Donnelly for pointers in translating. He’d get an A in it

Me: Don’t be mean

Maxim: Send me the date you’ll be moving to Poughkeepsie

Me: Okay

Maxim: Oh, and katyonok, please try to keep the voice notes on prostitution capped at ten minutes?

I refuse to blush.

Maxim: That’s how I know your speech-writing skills are superior, btw. You almost convinced me to shed our stables.

Okay, now I am blushing.

“Has he gone to torture some random person?”

I glower at Shay as he hurls a soda bottle at me. “You just don’t get him.”

“Thank God for that!”

I flip him the bird then jump when my phone buzzes again.

Maxim: Check under the bleacher where you’re sitting.

When I pop my head between my knees, Shay shouts, “Jesus, Vicky. Are you okay?”

I peer at the seat’s underbelly. “Shut up, Shay.”

Spying a small pouch taped to the base, I carefully peel it away.

Shay scowls at the blue velvet pouch in my hand. “What is it?”

“Proof we’re predictable and always sit in the same place,” I say wryly.

Warmth fills me as I tumble the contents from the baggy into my palm.

“Acorns,” Shay mumbles when he sees the tiny golden nuts that are studded with diamonds.

“Oakwood,” I reason before tugging my hoops out of my ears and replacing them with the tiny studs.

Me: Thank YOU

Maxim: Let’s see what mighty oak you’ll turn into

Me: CORNY

Maxim: A-CORNY?

Me: