a dime, and a receipt from Dunkin’ Donuts, probably from Logan Airport.
She wasn’t wearing any jewelry except her earrings, which were studs. They’d already determined that the metal posts that pierced her ears were too small to use to pick the cuff’s lock.
Thomas had asked if she had any bobby pins in her hair, but he hadn’t known what to call them, so he’d reached and come up with hatpins. Her mockage had been mandatory.
“No other...” He cleared his throat in the darkness. “Larger piercings, like...” His dot-dot-dot hung in the rapidly cooling air.
Tasha waited.
Thomas cleared his throat again. “You know.”
“Like nipples or clit?” she asked, overly chirpily cheerfully loud.
And yeah, she completely blew him up. She could feel him wince as he verbally flailed, “No, I mean, well, yes, but no, I was thinking more like, belly button...?”
“Nope, nope, and nope,” she announced, then sing-songed, “Sorry.”
He half snorted, half laughed. “No, I’m sorry I asked.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“One last problematic question,” Thomas said.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Problematic. Perfect for this environment.”
“Does your bra have, you know, one of those wires?”
Whoa. That stopped her pathetic attempt to make more jokes in the face of this awfulness. “Really? You can pick a lock with an underwire from a bra?”
“I could do it with a plastic straw,” he said, adding, “in about three hours with a crapload of luck. It’s easier with a piece of metal or hard plastic.”
“Well, okay,” Tasha said, “because this one’s a yes.”
But even as she spoke, she realized the logistical issues. Like most women, she was able to take off her bra beneath her clothing—even beneath a long-sleeved shirt—but there was no way she could do that magic trick while her hands were cuffed. She was currently wearing a jacket over a sweater over a shirt—over her bra. Peeling off all those layers wasn’t an option either, again thanks to the cuffs. And no way would she want to rip or tear any of her clothing. Even if she could manage it without a knife or scissors, doing so would make for an extremely chilly walk in the morning.
Still, she didn’t need to take the bra off, did she? No. She just needed to extract one of the wires from beneath one of the cups.
Tash tried to reach up under her jacket, under her sweater, under her shirt—but the handcuffs plus the bulk her clothing made it impossible for her to...
She unzipped her jacket and tried again and...
“Do you need...?”
“Help?” Tasha finished for him. “God, I hope not.”
He made a noise that she took to mean agreement as she checked...
“Oh good, the clasp is in the front.” It had been a lifetime since she’d gotten dressed for this trip, and she’d long since forgotten what bra she was wearing. “Bras have two wires, one for each cup. The wires can be accessed from either side.” Now Tasha was the one who sounded like a documentary film narrator. The Amazing Wonder of the Modern Underwire Bra. “Under each of my arms, and also at the center, by the front clasp.”
“Okay.” He sounded uneasy, as if she were asking him to do something, but she wasn’t—please God—so she kept her narration going.
“I’m checking to see if... See, the bra I’m wearing isn’t all that new, and sometimes, even with normal wear and tear—” Who the hell said wear and tear outside of an infomercial? She sounded like a voiceover plugging an indestructible travel dress that doubled as a parachute and could be folded into a lifeboat. “—the underwire can start to wear through the fabric at, you know, one of the pointy ends, and it might not take all that much effort to pull it free.”
But as she spoke, she’d checked under her left boob, with her left arm twisted awkwardly up beside her armpit, and there was definitely no fraying happening there. Both points of wire that met near the center clasp were far easier for her to access with those cuffs on, but also equally secure behind the fabric. If they had a scissors... But they didn’t and... There it was. On her right side, beneath her right arm. Serious frayage where the wire poked through, just a teeny, tiny bit. Which was odd, because her left boob was bigger and surely that created more wear and tear... Focus! It wouldn’t take much effort to worry away at the area, create a small hole, and pull the wire free. She hoped.
Problem was, she was severely right handed,