I know, I know, how irresponsible of me, but the lanyard was beyond itchy, and despite my broken promise, I made a point of putting it in my backpack where I couldn’t lose it.
So where the hell was the damn thing?
“I’m sorry, miss,” the guard said, pointing at the exit, “but I need you to leave until you locate your badge.”
My chest tightened, and I scrambled for an excuse to get me in the door. “Look, sir, you don’t understand. I’m Violet James’s assistant. I need to deliver an important package before her panel starts. If I don’t…” I trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blank with a consequence worthy of sympathy. “I’m in a jam here. Any way you could help a girl out?”
The man crossed his arms. “Lady, I don’t give a shit who you work for. No badge, no entry.”
“Jeez, you don’t need to be a dick about it,” I shot back. Before he could respond, I whipped around and threw the door open with more force than necessary, bursting out into the golden afternoon light.
There was only one person who could help me now, so I pulled out my phone and muttered a quick prayer. Violet answered after two rings.
“Hey, I was just about to text you,” she said. “We have to leave for the panel in five, and I need Jewel’s present. Where are you?”
“Stuck outside the convention center,” I told her, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear. With my hands free, I searched my bag one last time. “I can’t find my pass, and there’s this huge, Arnold Schwarzenegger–looking dude who won’t let me in.”
“Well, where’d you last have it?”
I stopped for a second to think. All Comic Con attendees were required to scan inandout of the convention. “When I left the convention center for the hotel,” I said, and two seconds later, aterrible thought occurred to me. “Oh God! What if I lost it in the cab?”
“Indie, relax. I’ll send someone to collect the present, and then you can retrace your steps.”
“Retrace my steps?” I choked out. “I don’t have time to traipse across New York City. Melody’s panel is about to start.”
There was a pause, but then my sister said, “What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”
“You’re Violet James, for crying out loud! Tell them to let me in.” The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how childish I sounded. Never in my life had I sunk as low as leveraging my sister’s fame to my advantage.
“It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.” Violet’s tone wasn’t snarky, but there was a definite, matter-of-fact edge to her response. “I’m really sorry, Indie, but I have to go. Stay where you are, and someone will be down shortly.”
“Wait, Vi—”
But the line went dead. I wondered for a moment if this was actually happening—if I was about to miss the main reason I’d come to New York in the first place. Maybe my apprehension about working for my sister had manifested in the form of this ridiculous nightmare, and in reality, it was late Friday night, and I was fast asleep at our hotel.
A cool voice roused me from my musing. “Hello, Indigo.”
“Jesus!” I exclaimed, slapping a hand to my heart when Sadie popped up beside me like a malevolent Whac-a-Mole. “How’d you get down here so fast?”
She ignored my question. “Where’s the gift?”
“Right here.” The holographic wrapping paper flashed in the sunlight when I held it up for her to see. “I was hoping you could help me—”
“No,” she replied, not waiting to hear the rest of my question. Her mouth pinched together as if the mere act of standing in my presence was painful.
“I—what?”
“No.” She seized the box from my hands. “I don’t help people break rules, especially those with no regard for them.”
“You’ve gotta be joking.”
“Have I done anything in the short time we’ve known each other to indicate I’m the joking type?” Sadie replied, and I had to admit, she had a point. She looked like the kind of girl who’d be typecast as the stereotypical punitive librarian. Or a drill sergeant.
“What’s your problem with me?” I finally asked.
She sniffed. “My problem? You’re a disgrace to personal assistants everywhere.”
“You know I’m not actually a personal assistant, right?”
