I could keep the goose bumps from appearing on my arms, but I couldn't stop the tingling. Another day, I would have wrapped my arms around his neck and kept him there as long as I could. But today I stood up, clearing my head. "Let's go."
He followed, but that didn't stop him from grinning at me. I gave him a warning look, but I let him take my hand as we walked up the stairs.
Loiterers in love might be the only cover we were capable of today.
Mel left the house shortly before we did, so it wasn't hard to slip out. I grabbed a tracker in a magnetic casing from my place; we could have used one of Kalif's, but Aida and Mel might have noticed it missing.
We took Mom and Dad's car again. If Dad were doing this job, he'd have bought a crappy used car just for the occasion. A few hundred bucks could often buy a car that would run for a night or two, at least. But buying and selling cars would involve a lot more time, and time wasn't something we could spare.
When we arrived, we parked in a pay-by-the-hour garage across the street from the Megaware building—the kind that wound up for floors and floors. We got out of the car and moved into the concrete stairwell. The cameras in this garage were concentrated on the entrances and exits, not the stairs. When we were sure we were out of sight of all cameras and windows, we shifted.
I chose a persona I'd worked on with Mom a couple of months ago. Her hair was longer and blonder than mine, her face more elfin. She wore her hair down and wispy, with bangs cut evenly across the forehead of her heart-shaped face. She was adorable, to match Kalif's plan.
Kalif chose a young-looking guy about his same height, but with shorter hair and lighter skin. That was a good choice. Racist though it was, an Arab teenager loitering by corporate offices would draw attention. To remain inconspicuous, white was the way to go. Sometimes I felt guilty thinking things like that, but Mom always reminded me that it was our job to use other people's prejudices to our benefit, so we had to be constantly aware of them.
We walked around the garage so we could come to the Megaware building from up the block. Mom used to tell me that the key to acting was to find something inside you that fit the part and just be that, letting all the other parts of you melt away. I quieted all the voices that told me that Kalif and I would never last, that I should hold him at a distance or we'd both get hurt. I linked my arm through his, and leaned over to kiss him as we walked. We lumbered awkwardly together, throwing each other off balance.
My heart fluttered as we pulled back. Even in persona, Kalif's smile radiated so brightly that I couldn't help but echo it with my own.
We're working, I told myself. It's not real.
But unless Kalif had suddenly developed extraordinary acting skills, it had to be. Under different circumstances I might have taken notes on his expression, the way both his eyes and his mouth crinkled at the corners in mirror images of each other.
Today, though, it was all I could do to stay focused on our surroundings, to keep from being swallowed up in him entirely. Walking close together, I was acutely aware of the way that his body had filled out under his clothing, his shoulders broader, his muscles more defined. Obviously that was supposed to impress me, whether consciously or subconsciously. His body could have been anything; the physical shape wasn't a particular turn on. But the idea that he wanted to impress me . . . that made me tingle all over.
We approached the parking garage, both of us grinning. I caught sight of the rear corner of a black car through one of the doorways, and an image passed through my mind: my mother's body, bound and gagged and dragged into the back of the van. Ice shot through me, and it was all I could do to maintain my smile. Kalif must have seen me falter, because his arm tightened around me, bearing me up.
I leaned against him. Wise or not, we were in this together. Pulling away from him would only distract me more.
When we arrived at the edge of the parking garage, Kalif peered down the driveway. He was obviously looking for guards, which wasn't suave but was totally in character. We found an unmanned card booth instead of a guard station, so I giggled and grabbed Kalif by the arm, pulling him down the ramp. We skittered like teenagers afraid to get caught. It felt odd to behave like such fools in a situation where I'd normally be suppressing my fear and acting cool, but Mom always told me to use what assets I had. Today, these were ours.
The garage was small—only two levels. As I'd suspected, many of the employees probably paid to park across the street. I looked around eagerly, trying to appear like a young girl taking in a moment, when really I was searching for cameras.
Kalif pulled out his phone. Through his remote link to his computer he could access the programs our parents used to do background checks and run license plates. He started dialing in the numbers on the few cars on this level.
We really needed to scope the place, first. "Come on," I said, pulling him in for a kiss. His mouth crashed into mine, and we made out all the way up the driveway to the second level.
On the second floor we stumbled across our prize—a row of reserved parking spaces labeled with names. A wine colored station wagon was parked in the spot labeled Susan Aftland. The bumper sticker announced Susan as a proud parent whose kid was on the honor roll at Kimball High. Kalif already had his phone in his hand.
"Is that in Tracy?" I asked.
He nodded.
"And without running the plates," I said, hanging on Kalif's arm. "I win this one."
I spun Kalif around to kiss him again, all the while checking over his shoulder for cameras. His hands dug at the back of my shirt. I tipped my head to the side, looking around Kalif to the ceiling support beams. Kalif followed my lead, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck. Goosebumps prickled all over my body, as much from his breath on my skin as from the knowledge that parking garages were almost always monitored.
Kalif kissed my neck gently, just above my shoulder. I took in a sharp breath, and that's when I found it. A camera recessed into the concrete, about twenty feet away, positioned to take in this section of the garage.
We were being watched.
But not stopped. Not yet.
I tucked my nose toward Kalif's ear, letting my hair fall over my face to shield it from the camera. "They're watching," I said. "Push me up against the car."
Our heads rose together, our mouths locked. And either this boy was an acting god, or he'd been thinking about kissing me long, long before last night. His hips pressed against mine, backing me up slowly, one step at a time.
My heart pounded, and I forced myself to stay focused, to shift so my hip was concealed from the camera by Kalif's, and to pull the magnetic tracker out of my pocket, covering it with my hand.
My heel hit the back tire of Susan's car, and Kalif pushed me against the trunk with the weight of his body. My head spun. I kissed him back, wishing we'd done this last week, last month, sometime when we could have given our parents the slip and made out for hours, just him and me, somewhere where security guards wouldn't peep at us.
But here we were, in the middle of a job. I rubbed the heel of my shoe against the back of the tire, kicking it off.
I threw my head back and shrieked, holding Kalif near me with one arm while I reached down to get it. I didn't dare steal a glance at the camera, but I did make sure to position my hand behind Kalif's leg as I snapped the magnetic tag underneath the bumper of the car.
I laughed, and put one hand on Kalif's shoulder, using his body to steady me as I hopped on one foot, tugging the heel of my shoe back on with the other hand.
We were both entangled in each other, hopping and laughing, when the door to the elevator opened.
"Hey," the security guard yelled. "This is a private facility. No trespassing."
My heart was already hammering double time, but I made myself spin around and shriek again. Then, I did what I figured any lovesick sixteen-year-old girl would have done. I hauled Kalif by the arm and ran back down the driveway. Kalif grasped my hand and we raced together acr
oss the first floor, and out to the street.
I glanced behind us. The guard didn't seem to be following. I was glad for that. We could have knocked him out; we had the training. But we were also trained to only use violence as a last resort, because no matter what you see in the movies, anything that causes unconsciousness will sometimes kill a person. Besides, if these guys were on the lookout for shifters, the last thing I wanted to do was put them on high alert.
When we were three buildings down, we ran into an alley and leaned against the wall together, panting.
Kalif leaned over, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and kissing me hard on the cheek. I smiled. We were out of range of Megaware cameras by now, so this was no longer for show.
Kalif's heavy breath in my ear sent shivers over my whole body. He caught his breath enough to speak, though his voice still came out thick. "You," he said, "are so much fun."
Fun? What the hell was I doing? My parents had been kidnapped and I was having fun?
My breath wasn't slowing. I gasped for air. And as I leaned against Kalif to steady myself, I could see the end coming, like the lights on a train at the far end of a tunnel. The better things were now, the harder it was going to be when I had to leave him. The events that would allow us to stay together were too terrible to consider seriously. We'd find my parents. Of course we would. It was Kalif who'd convinced me of that.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shifting my chest muscles to be larger, bearing them down on my lungs to get control of my breathing. "Focus," I said, more to myself than Kalif. "We need to figure out how I'm going to get into the building."
He studied me quietly. I could sense there was something he wanted to say, but he must have thought better of it.
He took my hand. "Come on," he said. And he pulled me into a back alley, where we could approach Megaware from the opposite side. The back door had a digital keypad, the kind where the numbers appeared in a random order each time, so a bystander couldn't discern the code by watching someone type it in from afar. In this case, that bystander was us.
"Figures," Kalif said. "Points for them."
"We need to get out of here," I said, pulling Kalif down the alley toward the main street. "If we look any more, that guard might notice that we're casing the place. Let's check the local restaurants. There's got to be a few places that deliver." That was the first rule of casing: even though it's always against company policy, the pizza guy knows the door code.
We walked the long way around the block, so we wouldn't be in line of sight of the Megaware building. Kalif held my hand even after we'd changed back into ourselves in the stairwell. My heart still pounded, and I felt like a helium balloon tied by a string. If he'd let go of my hand, I might have floated away.
I closed my eyes, leaning against the concrete wall and taking deep breaths, while Kalif did some searching on his phone. "There's a Chinese place around the corner," he said. "Their network security probably isn't spectacular, but it'd still be easier to get the information in person."
My body was finally beginning to calm. "We should use different personas, though. Less cute this time." And no more making out on the job. Ever.
Kalif nodded. "Still teenagers? We're dressed for it."
He had a point. "Okay," I said. We shifted as we passed through the narrow driveway that led to the street. This time he chose a blond, and I went with a brunette who was a bit taller and more muscular than the last, long in the legs, with a runner's build to match. I'd be fine as long as no one asked me to run a marathon; changing our physiology could give us the muscles of an athlete, but there was much more to athletic ability than simple muscle mass. I wouldn't have the pacing and form know-how of an actual runner.
We walked down the block with a two foot distance between us, like we were together, but only friends. It felt good to have Kalif beside me, working the problem along with me, but not hanging on me, fuzzing my head. But though I knew it was stupid to plan even hours into the future, I couldn't help but think that the next time we were alone together, we were so going to finish that kiss we'd started against the car.
The Chinese place was open, but not busy. The tables inside the shop were crusted in the drips of other people's lunches. No one was in at the moment, though, probably because the stickiness of the floor and the flimsiness of the chairs all screamed that this was clearly a take-out place.
A girl with waist-length hair stood behind the counter, looking at her phone. She'd dyed it a blue-black, but her natural blonde showed through in patches. The effect was unnatural—exactly the kind of thing we couldn't replicate. She also had some acne scars along her jaw line, but those we probably could have gotten away without. People notice their own tiny scars, but at a glance, other people usually don't.
The girl looked up at us through a thick layer of coal-black eyeliner. "To stay or to go?" she asked.
"To go," I said. "But let us look at your menu."
She nodded and went back to playing with her phone. I sat down at one of the tables and looked up at the menu posted over the girl's head. I didn't need to pretend, though. She didn't look up from her phone again.
The restaurant held two registers, but they were parked right next to each other, so there was no way for me to distract her at one register while he accessed the second. Kalif pointed to the menu and whispered to me. "I'm going to look for an office." He got up and headed down a narrow, wood-paneled hallway toward the bathrooms.
I made a show of studying my options, but instead studied the girl. She didn't look up at me even once to appreciate the performance I was giving her; pulling the wool over her eyes wasn't going to earn me an Oscar.
Kalif came back a minute later and hung in the hallway. "Ask for the manager," he mouthed at me.
I nodded, and he disappeared into the men's room. I walked up to the counter and waited an uncomfortable number of seconds for the girl to glance up from her phone.
"Did you decide?" she asked finally.
"No," I said. "But I have some questions about your Walnut Chicken. Is there milk in that?"
She shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe."
I sighed. "What about eggs?"
She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so."
"I'm allergic to eggs," I said. "If I have even one tiny bit of an egg, I'll break out for a week. So I kind of need to be sure."
Her face was deadpan. "We have an egg drop soup," she said. "That has eggs."
"Obviously," I said. "But the chicken?"
The girl eyed her phone, like she wished I'd quit interrupting her already. "I told you I don't know."
I sighed again, heavier. "Can I talk to your manager?" I asked. "Does he know?"
Giving a long suffering sigh, the girl disappeared into the back. A minute later she came back with an Asian man in a white shirt and a pair of khakis. Given the state of his clothes, I couldn't imagine he was the one doing the cooking.
"All of our food is cooked near eggs," he said. "If your allergy is that bad, don't eat it."
Now that I had him here, it was time to start whining. "You really don't have anything I can eat? I mean, come on. Some people have allergies, you know. Don't you care about your customers?"
"Of course we do," he said. "I wouldn't want you to get sick. That's why I'm telling you."
"What about the egg rolls?" I asked. "Do they have egg in them?"
The long-haired girl actually snorted.
I heard a flush from the hallway, and then Kalif appeared at my side. "There's nothing I can eat here," I said to him. "Let's just go get some pizza."
Kalif shrugged. "Works for me."
And we both turned around and left.
When we were back out on the street, I nudged Kalif. "Did you get what you needed?"
He waved a flash drive at me. "I got their whole address book from the office computer," Kalif said. "Including the door code to Megaware. I can also get you into the local art museum, if you want."
This time I s
ighed for real. "When my father finds out I'm breaking into places to save him, he'll be ticked. If he found out I broke in somewhere for a date, he'd lock me up for life."
"Maybe later, then," Kalif said. "Work, then play." He laughed as I swatted him on the arm. "I'm sorry," he says. "You're such an easy mark today."
"Yeah, yeah," I said. I focused on the sidewalk in front of us, putting one foot in front of the other. If I was even remotely tempted to break into places just to flirt with Kalif, then I was in far more trouble than Mom had thought. "Let's get home," I said. "I need to change into some business attire."
Nine
I spent the rest of the afternoon working on my Susan impersonation. I found a pants suit in Mom's closet that looked professional in a vanilla kind of way. The best thing would be to duplicate a suit Susan wore regularly, but I settled for an indistinct outfit that seemed to fit her buttoned-up style.
Standing in Mom's bedroom, I could feel her everywhere, like she was already a ghost, always flitting outside the edges of my vision. As soon as I had my clothes ready, I headed over to Kalif's. Even the possibility of being caught by Kalif's parents was better than the silence.
While Kalif worked on his computer, I studied myself in his full-length mirror, working on matching Susan's face. We had no way of knowing what she might have done to her hair after the company photo was taken, and so I pulled it back in a bun and threw a bell hat over it, the way a woman might if she had to go out in public but didn't have time to groom. That should eliminate the possibility of having to explain a sudden change of hair color, or six inches of overnight growth.
Aida only poked her head in once, thankfully after I was done rehearsing the physical transformation.
"Your dad will be out all night," she said to Kalif. "So don't worry about him."
Kalif nodded without looking at her. "Is he looking for Jory's parents?"
Aida shot him an annoyed look. "He's doing reconnaissance, yes."
Kalif's answer was clipped. "'Kay."
[A Thousand Faces 01.0] A Thousand Faces Page 10
