I climbed down the ladder into the underground warehouse that had become Gia and Mac’s home. A caramelized brown sugar flavor hung in the air; I had set Gia off on another angst-fueled baking frenzy. Since she was seven, making desserts had been her main form of self-care.

My feet hit the pink and blue epoxy floor. Gia’s girlfriend, Mac, had painted a cherry blossom tree on it as a gift. Each side of the two-story open space warehouse couldn’t be more different. Gia used white wood furniture and a teal and peach color palette to decorate the airy living space on the right side. To the left, she had shoved the mushrooming cardboard boxes and computers. That side was the only place Mac was allowed to spray paint her signature beautifully sad women.

Leaking mascara marred Gia’s cheeks. I’d caused those tears when I’d left this afternoon. She didn’t want me to see my boyfriend in the Vipers’ territory, but at least she didn’t know the Vipers found me there.

At five-foot-two and barely a hundred pounds, distressed Gia looked and sounded like a frazzled squirrel. Albeit, a squirrel with a knack for fashion. Tonight, she rocked a high-waisted miniskirt and leather garter belt with a heart-shaped buckle.

Gia slammed her wet cheek against my chest and squeezed me so tight I couldn’t breathe. “I was sure the Vipers caught you.”

I headed off to the butcher block kitchen island, lifted the ceramic lid of Gia’s cupcake-shaped jewelry box, picked three heaven pills, and swallowed them. My skin hummed as an all-consuming wave of pleasure washed over me. The world was beautiful, and everything would be okay. I laid face-up on the teal velvet sectional that had become my bed for the past month, captivated by the ceiling’s maze of pipes.

Mac meandered around in her black sleeveless Insiders Slayer tunic with a flaming skull—loved that band. She flung her titanium yo-yo up and down, flexing her beefy bicep. The tattooed metal gears and pistons were so masterfully inked on her, you’d swear Mac had robotic arms.

I desperately wanted to sleep but forced myself to sit up on the couch. “We need to brainstorm new ideas for the Electronix Empire job. Hacking it is taking too long.”

Gia’s ringlets bounced as she perched on the cushion next to me. “I had to find a store employee and make a copy of his face and phone signal all by myself because you were too busy whining about losing your savings and passing out doped on the couch every night for a month. But now, out of nowhere, you can’t wait to finish the job?”

I rolled my eyes in mock outrage. “You’re the one who keeps telling me to stop obsessing about the sixty-six thousand U-coins I’ve lost and do something productive for a change. And if you keep stress-baking, we’ll run out of water and food. So, can you still reach the guy who works at Electronix Empire?”

Mac tsked. “You want us to start kidnapping and torturing dudes for passwords?”

I winced. “I can’t rough someone up when just seeing it in 3D makes my skin crawl.” But was there a line I wouldn’t cross to protect my family?

Gia leaned into me, squinted, and scrunched up her nose as if smelling something foul. “How did you get that scratch on your jaw?”

“Just a welding accident when patching the Millennium Falcon,” I joked, imitating Han Solo’s smug smirk and husky tone.

Gia glared, not one bit amused at me referencing our favorite 2D. “I told you the Vipers would have thought of stalking your boyfriend’s place. They caught you—admit it!”

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I relaxed my posture. “Like I said, I was questioning a guy—”

Gia shot up from the couch, clenching her fist with walnut-cracking might. “Don’t lie to me, Ella! I swear to God.”

I avoided her gaze by checking out Mac’s rock-the-baby trick as she built a tent with the string and swung the yo-yo inside. I needed their help to pull off the job tonight and get the tech sold tomorrow before Zee got lucky. Yet there was no way they’d rush into it without knowing the truth.

I sighed. “Vipers tagged me.”

Mac’s yo-yo crashed on the floor.

Gia stopped blinking. “How long you got?”

I checked the time on my phone. “Twenty-six hours.”

Gia’s chest heaved.

Not another panic attack. I shouldn’t have said anything.

Mac pulled the tiny Gia against her muscular chest. “Don’t worry, babe. We can get two k for our ride—”

“Then what? No one wants the outdated crap Ella bought from her parents’ shop.” Gia turned to me. “Have you asked your folks?”

“Blown through their savings on Viper protection fees.”

Gia scurried to the butcher Island and took a heaven pill from her cupcake-shaped jewelry box, its bottom shelves stacked with labeled Mason jars. How many uppers had she taken because of me?

“Can you bring me your makeup kit?” I asked.

Gia raised one eyebrow. “Sure …?” Her platform shoes thudded against the industrial staircase as she ran upstairs to their bedroom.

Mac snapped the string from her finger and slammed the yo-yo onto her computer desk. “What’s your big plan? Charm the Electronix Empire dude into giving you the warehouse’s password? Forget it. Chain store’s employees are trained to give a false password that triggers a secret alarm, and if caught selling the real thing, they get killed. You’re not that hot.”

I hoisted a satisfied smile. “I’m not planning on asking him.”

Gia floated down the stairs, eyes glazed. Heavens usually calmed her, although she kept needing more for the same relief. She handed me her black-and-white checkered makeup bag and followed me to the bathroom wallpapered with ridiculously cute kawaii cartoon animals that Mac despised.

I brought the eyeliner to my eyelid, but my hands were shaking. Gia offered her palm, and I yielded the eyeliner.

She drew a line on my eyelid. “You don’t have to play the tough girl with me.”

I tilted my head up to avoid crying, but tears fell anyway.

She dabbed a tissue on my cheeks. “You’re not dying tomorrow.”

To no longer live with the constant pressure of being a missed payment away from losing our business, our home. If only … “I know,” I said instead, not to worry Gia with my sick death wish. “If I fail, Zee will force me to work in one of their strip clubs—or worse, their escort services—and he wants first dibs.”

She brushed mascara over my eyelashes. “I fully trust you’ll get the money in time.” She smiled wryly. “You’re the gift from God, after all.”

“You mean alien.”

“But then you made the wacky alien explanation for your special ability cool. See? No matter what life throws at you, you always land on your feet.”

I wished. Unfortunately, I wasn’t stoned enough to trust that my plan would work.

Growing up, kids had cast me out for being the weirdo who showed up at seven with no memory of my childhood and an uncanny learning ability that allowed me to memorize the entire Third Testament word for word in a week. Denying the alien theory only convinced them more. Eventually, I embraced it and started telling stories about my imaginary home planet, and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. Lying kept getting me favors and over time, I had mastered the art of attuning to people and transforming into whatever the situation required to the point that I lost track of who I was and who I should be, my soul decaying into slime.

One thing was for sure: I could never redeem myself.