“How’d you get upstairs?” She needs a key or to be buzzed in. She waves me off. “The guys from yesterday remembered me, and I gave them cupcakes.” Of course they let her up. This woman could talk a cop into handing over his gun. All she’d have to do is smile and flick her ponytail, and he’d be like, you want the bullets, too? There’s a weird, funny pressure in my chest, and for the first time in so long, I feel the urge to smile.
