Free Disruption by Jessica Shirvington

back door, a huge smile on his face. His M-Band camera zip was in continuous shot mode.
    I smiled grimly at Stella. ‘Thanks,’ I said, desperate for her to release my hands.
    She nodded, and then had the audacity to start massaging my hands up and down. ‘I told you,’ she said, beaming.
    I wondered if I should tell her that I could break both of her arms in four seconds.
    ‘You know,’ she went on, ‘everyone tried to talk me out of it because of the pheromone effects, but I knew I’d come down on the right side. Honestly, girl, I’ve never rated better. Maybe you should try it.’ She glanced pointedly at my uninspiring chest.
    I’d been worried about Stella going under the knife. Plastic surgery was more of a gamble than ever because self-image could cause a chemical reaction. Even if a person seemed happy with the results, there was the chance it would feed further insecurities or encourage an addiction to surgery, which could in turn create pheromone instability. Luckily for Stella, it had boosted her esteem, causing only positive effects.
    I pulled my hands free. ‘No, thanks,’ I said, putting some space between us before she tried to grab me again. ‘I’m pretty sure there is a customer waiting.’ I quickly made my way to the shopfront.
    By the time I finished closing down the tills and locking up, Gus was out the front with the car running.
    ‘Might’ve been faster if you’d helped,’ I suggested, feeling narky.
    ‘Or if you hadn’t paused to feel Stella up,’ Gus returned, smirking when I shuddered. ‘I may be your bitch, but I’m not your slave,’ he added, throwing his new model Audi-Glider into gear. I rolled my eyes. The sports car was much more valuable than what he should’ve been able to afford on his salary and had the same effect as a flashing neon sign with the words, up to no good . He sped down the road, drawing every passing eye.
    ‘Are you planning on leaving me the car when you wind up in jail?’ I said, purposely annoying him by putting my feet up on the dash.
    To my surprise, he burst out laughing. ‘Have you forgotten you are currently messing with a Mercer? Baby, if I’m on my way to jail, you’re on your way to the firing squad!’
    I glared at him, which only encouraged him to snort louder as he pulled up at the back of my house.
    ‘Here,’ he said, still smiling as he passed me my fake M-Band. ‘Make sure you leave your true band behind.’
    I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes, because I never would’ve remembered,’ I said sarcastically. The wanker at the parking garage might’ve been enough of an amateur to think he could get away with switching M-Bands in his car, but we knew better. Police had scanners and if they passed an unmanned M-Band in a car, they would know about it. Only someone stupid or looking for trouble risked leaving unmanned M-Bands lying around.
    I ran through the house, checking to see if Mom had taken my suggestion and given herself a few shifts off. She hadn’t. It meant I had another few hours until she was home. I headed for my room above the garage and changed into a pair of leather pants and a black tank top.
    I tugged at the bottom of my pants, wriggling the seams into place. I didn’t have time for a confused self-image. Frankly, I didn’t care much about my looks, but I’ll admit that when I needed to jam myself into tight-fitting clothes, it helped that I worked out a lot.
    I gave my outfit a quick glance in the mirror as I tied back my dusty brown heap of hair. Discreet. Not too dressy. It would work. Despite my fake M-Band I was still underage and dressing up too much drew the wrong kind of attention, plus I was there to act as Gus’s cover. Two good reasons why I needed to blend in, not stand out.
    Staring down at my black work boots, I sighed. I wanted to put them back on, bad. They were perfect for moving fast and hurt like hell for the person who copped one in the head, but last time I’d worn them I’d barely made it