List of Bookmarks
Nisha is T minus ten when someone says “Hello! Do you want to make a thousand dollars?”
She pauses on the sidewalk outside the bank, one boot on the bottom step. She turns a little, her hand still on the bandana around her neck, half-raised.
The woman beaming down at her is tall, dark, and handsome, dressed to the nines. There’s a hint of muscle underneath all her jewelry, and that kinda does it for Nisha. “Yes, you there!” she projects, someone too rich for an inside voice. “Hello! I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a pickle, and need someone to lend a helping hand. I will, of course, compensate you for your time.”
“Two thousand,” Nisha says, because why not.