For a minute or so, I think that I must have cracked under the pressure and temporarily gone insane. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

My brain simply refuses to accept that Ralph is here. That he’s somehow silently stormed the barricades of the White Diamond all on his own, joined the heist without any of us knowing.

I stand stock-still, staring at him in complete disbelief. How long was he out here in the living room, listening? He must have heard the instructions that Calla gave me on how to impersonate Brent. That much I know, because Calla told me to act like a smug, sexist brat with way too much money for his own good.

Ralph is doing that, and he's fucking killing it.

But there are things working against him.

The real Brent is wearing clothes that could probably pay a few months of my rent. It’s even obvious that his haircut was blisteringly expensive.

Ralph is wearing what he was when I left him at his house. A thin, threadbare t-shirt that I can almost see through. A pair of faded black jeans. Heavy, beaten-up, steel-toed boots. His usual leather wristbands. He’s been keeping himself nicely groomed, lately, but his blonde hair doesn’t exactly look like it was cut yesterday.

I don’t think that any of this is lost on Kate. She hesitates, and Ralph tips his head to the side, looking down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, when he arches a questioning eyebrow. “It’s just, um - I saw a picture of you in the newspaper a while ago, and you looked so - different.”

Cold, jagged fear stabs through my chest. Calla said that the Attorney General was good at keeping his son out of the press, but Brent is a repeat offender. Stories must slip through sometimes. Pictures, too.

Aside from both being blonde, Ralph and Brent look nothing alike. And Kate has seen a photo of the real Brent.

Ralph doesn’t seem concerned about this at all. He shrugs his shoulders at Kate, like he’s not sure what she wants from him.

“Those fuckers who shoot for the papers always get me at my worst angles. Or - old picture, mayb-” Ralph breaks off abruptly, staring at Kate like something just occurred to him. He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his eyes widening. “Wait - are you saying you don’t believe that I am who I say I am?”

Kate draws back, her cheeks coloring up instantly.

“Oh, no, not at all!” she says quickly. “I was - just-”

“Did you hear that, Carter?” Ralph catches my eye, lets out another nasty laugh. “My identity has come under question. That's hilarious. Maybe I haven’t spent enough at this hotel yet for people to know what I fucking look like.”

“No, really!” Kate protests, increasingly alarmed. “I wasn't-”

“Nah, it’s fine, Kate. Happy to provide proof.” Ralph fixes Kate with that cold smile again, then looks over at me. “Carter, gimme my passport.”

I blink at him, then follow his pointing finger to the counters of the shining, white-marble kitchen. A wallet, a plane ticket, and a passport are all sitting there.

My heart hammers wildly when I stop at the counter and take a closer look. This stuff clearly belongs to Brent. The wallet is thick with credit cards. When I open the passport to take the ticket out, I catch a glimpse of Brent’s name and picture printed inside.

Ralph beckons with his outstretched hand for the passport, and I stare at him, my jaw clenched with panic. What the fuck is he thinking? If Kate sees this passport picture, it’s all over.

But I don’t know what else to do, so I hand the passport over to Ralph.

“Kate thinks I’m an imposter," he snickers, taking it from me. “Let’s reassure her, shall we?”

“No, really,” Kate says anxiously, flapping a hand at him. “I don't need to-”

“C'mon, go ahead.” Ralph holds out the passport to her. “It’s a good shot of me. Definitely better than whatever you saw in the papers.”

My heart stops still, flooded with panic, but - Kate doesn’t take the passport. She quickly steps back, flustered, and shakes her head at Ralph.

“There’s no need for that, I assure you,” she insists again. “I’m very sorry for the confusion. It was my mistake.”

Ralph offers the passport out to her one more time. “You sure?”

Kate nods, and Ralph shrugs, like it doesn’t really matter to him either way. He tosses the passport back onto the kitchen counter, and Kate instantly looks relieved.

Then she looks taken aback as Ralph slips a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, extracts one, and sticks it in his mouth.

“Um - Mr. Windsor. I should remind you that there’s a fine for smoking in a non-smoking room.”

“Yeah?” Ralph slips a lighter out of his pocket. “How much is it? Couple thousand dollars?”

“Well - no, but a few hundred.”

Ralph lets out a snort of dismissive laughter, then lights up his cigarette.

“So, Kate.” He breathes out a long, slow stream of smoke through his nose. “Why’d you pay us a visit?”

“I came up to see how you’re enjoying your stay so far.” Kate tries to smile, gestures around at the lavish hotel room. “Is there anything we can do for you? Any special occasion you’re celebrating?”

Ralph slaps my shoulder, which in my present state nearly knocks me to the ground.

“My buddy here just got engaged,” he tells Kate. “No fucking idea how he landed such a babe. Actually, I do know. I introduced them at a party at my beach house. She’s modeled for Playboy Italy. Dumb, but gorgeous. My kind of girl.”

“How - nice,” Kate says stiffly, her eyes flitting over to me. “You have your ring on the wrong hand, though.”

“Yeah, he does,” Ralph snickers. “He’s not married yet, and we’re out to party tonight.”

Kate is clearly working hard to keep a smile on her face. She looks down as her phone lights up with a notification, and I seize the opportunity to catch Ralph's eye.

I try to mouth something at him. He widens his eyes and shakes his head at me.

His Brent-face snaps back into place as Kate looks up at us again.

“I'm afraid I have to run,” she says. “Mr. Windsor, if you can think of anything at all we can do to improve your stay, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Ralph smiles at her. “You can start by calling me Brent. Assuming you believe that’s who I am.”

Kate lets out a very forced laugh. “Of course. I’m sorry again for the misunderstanding.”

"I’ll let it slide," Ralph says, then pins on - "This time.”

Kate nods at him, then heads for the door like she can’t wait to get out of here.

“Very nice to meet you, Brent,” she says coldly, and shows herself out.

~~~~

I put one hand over my heart, the other on the kitchen counter. I lean heavily into my palm, struggling to get my breath back.

“Holy - fucking - shit,” I wheeze, then lift my head to look at Ralph.

The smug smile he wore as Brent, the icy look in his eyes - it’s all gone. Suddenly Ralph looks like himself again.

He actually looks shaken up. Grossed out, upset.

“Jesus." He shudders a little, rubs a hand over his chest. “That felt fuckin’ horrible. I came off like a total fuckface.”

“Yeah, nice work,” I stammer, my fingers still pressed to my heart. "You're super good at that."

Ralph scowls at me, but before he can say anything, Calla comes sweeping out of the bedroom.

She strides right up to Ralph, her face pale, her eyes blazing. He freezes, staring at her as she comes to a stop before him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, picking nervously at his wristbands. “You - you alright?”

For a split second, I think that Calla is going to stay calm. Then her neutral expression falls apart, and she seizes two handfuls of Ralph’s shirt in her trembling hands.

“Ralph!” She sounds beside herself with dismay. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, what the actual fuck, man?” I jump in. “How did you even - just - how?”

Ralph froze up again when Calla took hold of his shirt, but now he clears his throat, runs a hand through his blonde hair.

“I overheard your phone call with Jamie,” he tells Calla. “It sounded like you were in trouble.”

I press my fingers to my cheeks, staggered. “So you fucking followed me and Aiden all the way here?”

“And then tailed all three of us to the hotel?” Calla shakes her head in disbelief. “I'm sorry, but how the fuck did I not notice you?”

“He’s real good at that shit, just like you are,” I inform her. “Hiding in the shadows.”

Calla absorbs that, stunned, then lets go of Ralph’s shirt and takes a step back.

“How did you get up here, Ralph? The elevators are keycard activated, even the ones for guests.”

“How did you get up here?” he asks.

Calla holds up the key. “Stole an employee’s keycard.”

Ralph slips a similar one from his pocket, holds it up to show her. “I swiped one from a guest on my way in.”

They stare at each other, each holding up the key that they stole.

“I got up here in the guest elevator, like, right after you guys went inside.” Ralph nods at the door to the hotel room. “No-slam doors are actually kind of a security risk. They close so fucking slow. I caught it just in time.”

“How’d you know which room to go to?”

“You said the AG’s got his shit in the house safe, right?” Ralph stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking nervously down at Calla. “Figured the guy with stuff expensive enough for the house safe would probably spring for the best room.”

Calla stares up at Ralph, speechless.

“Ralph,” she says hoarsely, “You can’t be part of this. Don’t you realize - don’t you know…?”

She fades off, but both Ralph and I know exactly what she’s talking about.

Aiden, Calla, and I - we’re all taking a serious risk by participating in this improvised heist. But for Ralph, the risk is staggering.

He’s risking everything. Everything.

If Aiden, Calla, and I are caught, then we’re busted for the heist. We’ll be in huge trouble, but that’s where it’ll stop.

Ralph, on the other hand, is fucking drug kingpin. A search warrant for his house - which I’m sure would follow any charges brought against him following a botched heist - would be a disaster of unprecedented proportions.

We would all be in huge trouble, but Ralph would be the first one up against the wall. He would fall harder than any of us, go down for so much more, be treated so much more severely. He’s easily got twenty-five to life hidden away in that cabinet in his bedroom.

Even if Ralph were to get out of it somehow, his business would be ruined, destroyed, over. He’s built his entire reputation on never fucking up, never letting his people get arrested. If Ralph himself gets arrested, even temporarily, I’m pretty sure that shit is out the window. Everything he’s built and worked for, up in smoke. Just like that.

That’s what’s on the line for him, signing onto the heist the way he just did.

Calla knows this. She’s looking up at Ralph like she’s wondering if he does, too.

“Don’t you know?” she asks again, in a soft, strained voice.

The answer is obvious. I can tell from the look in Ralph’s eyes that he agonized over this. He’s thought about it. He knows.

He glances at me, then looks down at Calla again, pushes a hand through his hair as he struggles for an explanation.

“Yeah, I know,” he says haltingly, quietly, his eyes fixed on hers. “But I was - worried about you, and I - please just let me-”

Ralph breaks off sharply, then glances up at me again, a desperate look coming over his face. I can’t tell if he’s looking to me for help, or because he wishes I couldn’t hear what he’s saying, or what. I’m not sure that he knows, either. His composure has suddenly scattered in all directions.

He’s trying his best, but he's definitely not used to being this honest and open. He looks absolutely mortified and nerve-wracked, at a complete loss for what to say.

Calla stares up at him, her eyes very wide. The expression on her face is - complicated.

A faint blush is spreading beneath that light sunburn perpetually dusted across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are a chaotic sea of mingled and powerful emotions. Astonishment, incredulity, worry, and… something else, beneath all the rest. Something bright and warm. 

Ralph sees it, I can tell. He stares into her eyes, then hastily breaks his gaze away, then clears his throat again.

“Listen, you need my help,” he tells Calla, back to his regular voice and volume. “And Keane, get a grip. We don’t have time for you to panic.”

“Fuck you, dude.” I’m pacing back and forth in the kitchen, trying to calm down. “I’m fine, I’m totally calm.”

“We don’t need your help, Ralph,” Calla protests again, her voice scraping. “We’re professionals, alright?”

Unfortunately, she says this right as I trip and stumble into the kitchen counter, upending one of the grandiose displays of fruit. I try to catch it, and it falls to pieces in my arms.

Calla closes her eyes for a moment as grapes go rolling and orange slices smack down onto the elegant, polished floors.

Ralph looks down at Calla, then points to me, one eyebrow arched. “You were saying?”

Calla winces, drops her face into her hands. Then she whips around to glare at me, planting one hand on her hip.

“No?” she says heatedly. “That’s the answer you came out with when Kate asked if you were Brent, Jamie? Just no? If we survive this, I’m gonna kill you.”

"I told you what kind of liar I am!" I drop the remains of the fruit display, my cheeks on fire. “Why do you think I'm so freaked out, right now? I can't fucking do it! Remember this the next time you want to ask me to lie!”

Calla shakes her head at me, amazed. “Even in an emergency like that, you seriously can’t-?”

“No! No.”

Calla stares at me, then slowly turns to Ralph, an agonized look in her eyes.

He understands right away. Moves into action without another word.

Calla and I exchange a glance, then follow him into the bedroom where we stored Brent and Carter.

“Ralph,” I say haltingly, stopping behind him. “Are you sure-?”

“Yes, okay? Trust me, I can sell this.”

Ralph takes a look at Brent as he speaks. He reaches out and swiftly undoes the massive Rolex on Brent’s wrist. He slips it onto his own and snaps it into place, then starts maneuvering Brent out of his soft leather jacket. He snaps his fingers at me, then points to Carter.

I bite my lip, thinking about arguing with him - then give up. I switch the ring to my engagement finger, then rush over to Carter and shed my jacket, going for his instead.

“Don’t you have a safe to crack?” Ralph asks Calla, over his shoulder.

Calla hesitates, torn, then takes a deep breath.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get Aiden. You guys get yourselves established as Brent and Carter, so we’ll be ready if we need you. Sell the act, but don’t attract attention.”

Ralph and I both nod in agreement as we add expensive touches to our outfits.

“Good luck,” Ralph tells Calla, without turning around. “Be careful.”

Calla looks at Ralph, then at me. She beckons for me, and I follow her out into the living room.

As soon as we’re alone, Calla stops and gazes up into my face. She points to the bedroom, where Ralph is.

“Do not let him get caught, Jamie,” she says, in a fierce whisper.

I nod at Calla, my heart leaping nervously. She stares at me to make sure that I mean it, then takes one more look at Ralph. He’s undoing his leather wristbands, slipping them into his pocket.

I see a flash of that bright, hidden warmth in Calla’s eyes again before she turns and heads for the door.