“Right, well… I’m wondering why he hasn’t blocked you.”
“What? Why?” I inched my head forward to peer at the screen of my phone.
She dropped the phone in her lap, looking up at me and shaking her head. “You spammed him, Zahra; you keep spamming him. The last message you sent was from a few minutes ago.”
“But he didn’t respond, and I got anxious, okay? When I text someone, and they don’t reply, it just makes me all itchy, and it has been a week, and he hasn’t blocked me, so that means there is still room for me to explain… or does it mean he doesn’t find me worthy enough to block?”
“You’re overthinking it again. Maybe he’s just busy?”
“For a week?”
“Maybe he doesn’t check his phone, see? He hasn’t opened them yet. So, I don’t think there’s anything much to worry about; you’re good.”
“But I—”
The door burst open and Dog rushed in. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Milk asked.
“The man who is in charge of Arturo’s manor, our golden ticket to Chihuahua paradise, the philanthropist who is—”
“We get it,” I said. “Shit. How are his surroundings looking?”
“He got a platinum suite.” Dog scowled, clearly jealous.
“That’s not what I asked,” I said.
“He’s not alone, some family members maybe? Fellow philanthropists in the big seats, hot-as-fuck dancers. I think there’s gonna be a dance performance at some private event in his suite, I don’t know, but it’s pretty elite. We need an in.”
“Zahra can go in as one of the dancers,” Milk said, and I looked at her in surprise.
I smiled sweetly. “That’s awesome, Milk. It’s totally okay to speak for me. I love you so much; you’re the best.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you dance. You rock, and it’ll get you out of your funk.”
“You saw me drunk, dancing on a table once.”
“It was sexy as fuck,” Dog said, leaning against the door. “I think I got a boner that time. You do that with the target, and bam, you get an invite to tour the manor. Then you introduce us as your adoptive siblings because your father loved helping people. Man charmed, painting ours, map collected, gold ours. Easy as pie.”
Milk nodded excitedly.
“How do we get into the private event?” I asked.
“Devil is working his magic, and Upper is assisting,” Dog said.
“How long do we have till the performance?” Milk asked.
“About an hour, two, tops?” Dog answered.
Milk smiled creepily at me, her hand rising to stroke my cheek as I inched back warily. “That’s enough time to turn you into a dancer.”
It took Dog getting rid of one of the dancers to get me into the back room as a replacement from another dance crew. Milk did my makeup and got me into the missing dancer’s dress and jewelry while the other dancers filled me in on what they had planned.
There was no time to practice. They assured me it wasn’t that hard; they even showed me a video of their choreography and told me we would be more like background noise because everyone would be paying attention to all the other things going on.
I don’t like dancing. It wasn’t a skill I learned out of personal preference. The times I had to do this were because I had to draw people’s attention to my body and fetch money.
I stopped my thoughts there as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The chain veil covered half of my face and my forehead. Only my eyes were on display, and my makeup was a little on the heavy side, but appropriate enough for the costume.
