“You’re the real McCoy, Sheba. You don’t need to fake it.”
Evie sat up, glaring. “I did not come to this party to hear a lecture from you, Sam Lloyd. You steal people’s wallets. Don’t act like you’re better than I am.
“Me? Sure, I’m a thief and a con. But not you, kid. Unfortunately, you care. I know you.”
“No you don’t,” Evie said, lying back again. “You just think you do because you’re my pretend fiancé. But nobody really knows anybody. We’re all just a bunch of Pears soap ads walking around clean and neat, ready to wash away to slivers.”
“What’s real, then?”
“I dunno, anymore, Sam. I really don’t.”