Mezzanine

| 56 |

"Are you sure you know how to do this?" I shifted on my feet, glancing towards the boardwalk to make sure no one passing by would see us. Luckily, at the end of October, there wasn't much foot traffic.

Damien fiddled with the pair of paperclips he had jammed in the lock on the door. "Shit," he muttered under his breath as one snapped in half. He shoved the broken pieces into the pocket of his jacket and took another spare one from between his teeth.

"I've watched videos on it," he said. "I know what I'm doing."

My hands shook with nerves. We only had fifteen minutes. How much time had we already wasted? Last night Damien could barely get the lock on the door to his own house to work. Why did I trust him to take care of this one?

"How'd you get in last time?" I asked.

"Last time, I knew where she hid the spare key." He jiggled the door handle, cursing under his breath when it still didn't open. "Obviously, she doesn't keep it in the same spot anymore."

I scanned the alley for any place that might be a decent hiding spot, but other than a few stray plastic bags and a soggy cardboard box, it was empty. I ran my hand across the top of the door frame, but there was nothing but dust and sand.

"If she has one hidden anywhere," Damien said, "it's probably on the porch somewhere."

"Well a lot of good that does us now," I replied. She was literally sitting out there right now with Lola and Carter. I watched my brother struggle with the lock for another few seconds. "Can I try?"

"Just give me ten more seconds," he said. "I think I feel it turning over...there!"

The lock clicked and clunked softly, and without wasting a second, Damien grabbed the handle and turned.

The door slid open an inch...and then it stopped.

"Fuck," he hissed.

"What?"

"There's a bolt."

I peered over his shoulder at the metal chain that clipped into the door, securing it shut. It was fairly thin. How strong could it be?

"What if we both slam into the door at the same time," I suggested. "Do you think we can break it?"

Damien shrugged. "Worth a try."

We took a few steps back, and then on the count of three, we dove at the door. Pain shot up my shoulder as I collided into the wood with as much force as I could. The frame creaked where the chain was secured, and the door gave another half inch, but it didn't break.

"It's not gonna work," I said.

"I know," Damien agreed. "But it gave a bit. If you lean against it and push it open as much as possible, I can try to get my hand in and flip the clip out."

"Okay." I placed my back against the door and pressed with as much force as I could.

"Come on," Damien muttered as he stretched his fingers between the crack in the door and the frame, but it wasn't wide enough for him to reach in past his knuckles.

"Push it open more," he said.

I ground my teeth together as I dug my heels into the ground, shoving the door as hard as I could, but it barely budged. "This is as much as I can do."

The back of my neck prickled with sweat. We couldn't come all this way just to let a lock stop us. We had to get this thing open. We needed someone with smaller hands...or another tool.

"Your belt," I said. "Try using the buckle on your belt."

Damien nodded. "Good idea."

He tugged his belt out from his jeans and fished the metal buckle through the crack. After fiddling with it for a few seconds, with a clank, the door gave way. Damien grabbed me by the arm, yanking me back and preventing me from falling in with it.