she wanted—the alley at 738 Steele Street and the undying long-shot hope that the hot guy who’d busted her boost two weeks ago would show up tonight.
It was a little silly, and fun, and kind of comforting to have such a crazy crush on a guy. In this one way, at least, she was like all the other teenage girls in the city, the normal ones. None of them could have cruised the dark alleys of Denver or stolen their dinner off the street, and she doubted if very many of them had ever been on the rooftops. But they had crushes on hot guys, and so did she—the hottest guy ever.
Her smile returned.
At the top of the fire escape, she made a small leap onto a balcony rail and quick-stepped across, balancing herself with her arms outstretched, her small backpack in one hand, the Chinese food in the other. When she reached the end of the balcony, she threw her backpack up on the roof, gripped the plastic bag of food in her teeth, and swung herself up. She had her place all picked out and settled in with her dinner for the long haul, sitting in the prime place for watching the alley backing 738 Steele Street. A lot of buff guys went in and out of the building, but she was only interested in one—her crush.
Cripes, she’d had a day. Taking her jacket out of the backpack, she spread it out in front of her on the roof and unloaded her take: five wallets; a small clutch purse; four DVDs she’d copped out of the drugstore, all new releases; a couple of candy bars; a silk shirt with the tags still on it; and a Batman action figure. She thought Batman was pretty cool, but the action figure was for one of the new kids on the crew, a squirrelly little towhead named Jeffy. She should have gotten him a Batman shirt. His looked like it had been handed down about forty times. But she’d snagged the action figure instead so the kid could have some fun.
Not bad, she thought, looking the stash over and reaching into the bag of food. The first thing she pulled out was a box of wontons, and after taking a big bite out of one, she started her nightly sort. Cash went in one pile, credit cards in another, identification cards in another. Sometimes, if a wallet had a lot of good stuff, she’d keep the whole thing intact for an ID sale, squeeze a few extra bucks out of it to feed her crew.
A few minutes later, she’d counted up two hundred and seventy-seven dollars in cash, eight credit cards, four driver’s licenses, and one learner’s permit, whatever that was worth. She didn’t have a clue, but it never failed to amaze her what some people wanted to buy.
Reaching back into the bag, she took another wonton and decided that what she needed was a DVD player, and every now and then, maybe she’d keep a movie. The kids would love it.
During the sort, she’d kept her eye out for people coming and going in the alley below, but so far, the night had been a bust.
Disappointed but still hopeful, she scooped up the day’s cash and cards and stowed them into her pack before settling in to wait, and watch, and eat. She was into her fourth wonton when her luck changed.
“Chinese?” a deep voice asked.
Cripes. Her heart took a jump, and she jerked her head around but didn’t see anybody.
“You’re going through those wontons pretty fast.” The guy spoke again, and she quickly turned her head in the opposite direction.
There, in the deep shadows cast by the moon, he was standing with his back against the air-conditioning unit.
“Go find your own roof,” she said around a mouthful of wonton, the rest of the bag clutched close to her chest. “This one’s already taken.”
“I’ll leave as soon as I find the thief who stole my boss’s dinner. He ordered takeout from the Lucky Moon, that new restaurant up on Blake. Have you heard about it?” the guy asked, and oh, so help her, she suddenly recognized him.
The wonton turned to instant sawdust in her mouth.
Oh, God. Nobody’s luck could run this bad.
“General Grant, my boss,” he continued, “picked up his food about half an hour ago, but before he could get it home, the bag got snatched by someone he described as a coltish brunette.”