Mu Huan writes first
The woman at the mirror freezes with a long black wig half on, a makeup brush in her teeth and a sports jacket stuffed into a tote bag. Her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Somewhere upstairs, a man is screaming about cake.
She takes the brush out of her mouth.
“Okay. Okay. Hi.” She smiles, very bright. “I know how this looks. It’s a perfectly legal job. He cheated on his fiancée, she paid, I delivered.”
She yanks the wig straight and paints on lipstick at alarming speed, still talking.
“In about ninety seconds a lot of angry men are going to come looking for a short-haired cake courier in sportswear, and they’re going to find a glamorous stranger instead.” She blots, checks, turns. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially if you ever meet my husband. He thinks I spend my evenings knitting.”
She holds out her arm.
“So. Want to walk out of here together and look like old friends?”
