Nine #2
It had been decades since she’d smoked marijuana. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be high. She had a fleeting thought that perhaps she ought not to smoke it with the number of painkillers in her. But she put it to her lips and inhaled.
“Edie turned on us. She tried to get us arrested,” Joan reminded them.
“Because of her boyfriend,” Frances said.
“He was our mark,” Irene said. “And she married him.”
No one said anything for a moment. They just passed the joint around like they were in their twenties, sitting on the back seawall of Frances’s Hamptons house. “I miss her,” Frances said finally. “I miss her a lot.”
“I do, too,” Irene admitted.
Frances and Joan looked at her with surprise.
Irene shrugged. “I really liked Edie,” she said with a shrug. “Loved her, like I loved you two. I just wish she hadn’t been such an asshole in the end.”
“Didn’t we all?” Frances said. “We had a good thing going.”
Joan shrugged. “We couldn’t keep doing that forever. But I don’t trust Edie Smith. Frankly, I’m not sure I trust the two of you.”
Frances had known it was a strong possibility there would be a reluctance to get back together.
Much less pull off a heist. Still, she was terribly disappointed.
If Joan was out, would Irene stick with her?
Probably not. Frances had never distinguished herself as the must-have team member.
Would it even make sense to go to Edie without Joan?
Frances’s thoughts began to feel muddled. Joan brought an invaluable skill set to the group. Like the ability to make fake IDs. To doctor passports. To create whatever they might need short of forging something in fire. And could still kick ass, apparently.
Exhaustion suddenly moved through Frances.
She didn’t know if it was a sudden spurt of cancer growth or Joan’s marijuana, but she was floaty.
She felt like her body was on the couch but that she was high above Joan and Irene somehow.
At least her head didn’t hurt. She’d read about cancer patients using marijuana for pain relief.
Maybe she would move out here to help Joan and smoke the profits until she died.
Maybe she would just float off into the ether and people would say, Whatever happened to Frances Deluca?
A sudden slap to her arm startled her to the present. “Frances,” Irene hissed, and nodded to something in the room.
Frances sat up. Mrs. Harris was back with the ginger beer.
Joan handed them mugs of the stuff with a stern look, silently warning them they better drink up. Frances brought the mug to her lips and somehow managed not to gag—she could smell it before she tasted it. There wasn’t even a hint of ginger in that concoction. She could hardly choke it down.
“Well?” Mrs. Harris said once she’d settled into a chair with her mug. “Did you figure out what these ladies want?”
“I did. They would like me to go on a little trip with them.”
“A trip where?”
“They aren’t sure yet.”
Mrs. Harris frowned. “Why don’t they know?”
“It’s a girls’ trip, Mama. We’ll decide if we want to go, then decide where.”
“A swan song,” Frances said dreamily. She smiled and imagined herself floating away, like a swan. Irene glared at her.
“You can’t go now. What about Love Island?” Mrs. Harris demanded.
“Huh?” Irene had downed half of the ginger beer, much to Frances’s surprise.
Joan laughed. “We’re in the middle of Love Island.
UK, not US. There’s a difference.” To her mother, she said, “We’ll watch when I get back.
If I go, I won’t be gone for more than a couple of weeks.
” She looked at the other two for confirmation.
They nodded in eager agreement. Frances couldn’t imagine she’d last much longer than that.
She wasn’t sure she’d even be upright by then.
“Well, what about me?” Mrs. Harris said.
“I’ll get Norma to come,” Joan said. Frances assumed that was one of Joan’s many siblings.
“Not Norma. She’ll talk my ear off. I want Fred.”
“You said you were done with Fred.”
“Now why would I say such a thing? He’s my son. I want Fred.”
“I’m not even sure I’m going, Mama. I’m mulling it over.”
“I’m going to call Fred,” Mrs. Harris said, and took a flip phone out of the pocket of her skirt.
Flip phone. “Knew there was one in this house,” Frances murmured. No one heard her.
The discussion continued. Frances couldn’t follow any of it. She asked for a bathroom, and Joan pointed toward a hall as she continued to beg her mother not to call someone named Fred.
Frances managed to find the bathroom, but when she came out, she felt even more floaty.
What she needed, she thought, was a nap.
And she happened to notice a bed through a door that opened onto the hall.
Frances walked into the room and looked around.
It was dark and cool, and the bed had one of those thick blankets on it.
She moved closer, then allowed herself to drop, face down, onto the bed.
She giggled. Was she high? This was a terrible breach of etiquette, and if someone did this in her house, she and Marjorie would chew on it for weeks. She was just so sleepy.
Something sticky wet and cold was pressing against the skin under Frances’s eye, and she woke with a start. She cried out with alarm to find someone standing over her and tried to slap the person away before Irene—it was Irene—yelled at her to stop. But she continued to poke Frances’s face.
“What the hell, Irene?”
“Eye patches. You need them. Your bags are awful.”
Frances sat up on the bed, her head spinning. “How long have I been asleep?”
Irene consulted her watch. “Twelve hours?”
Frances gasped. “Oh my God. Whose room is this?”
“Fred’s, from what I understand. What’s the matter with you? It’s not like you to duck out of a party.”
Frances rubbed her head. The pain was terrible and her mouth was so dry. She needed her medicine. “It was the pot.”
“Are you saying you can’t hang?” Irene asks.
“I guess not.”
Irene frowned at her. “Really? Because I’ve seen you—”
“Where is Joan?” Frances asked, cutting her off before she began to list all the debauchery of Frances’s twenties.
“Getting ready. She’s going.”
Frances didn’t believe her. “She is?”
“Yep. Fred is coming to watch Love Island with Mama and to make sure that gun safe stays locked. So, you might want to get out of his bed.”
“Really?” Frances asked, smiling now. Her head was killing her, but she felt surprisingly rejuvenated by the news. Joan was coming! She hopped out of the bed (okay, rolled), her mind racing with how they would get Edie on board.
Joan walked in then, dressed in overalls and a long braid. “Well, well, Sleeping Beauty.”
“I’m so sorry,” Frances said as she began to strip the bed. “I haven’t smoked a joint in ages.”
“It’s fine,” Joan said with a flick of her wrist. “Fewer people to argue with. That was some of my best stuff.”
“Irene says you’re coming with us?”
“Well,” Joan said, sliding her gaze to Irene and smiling a little. “I’m willing to go and at least speak to Edie. See if I can trust her. But Fred won’t be here for two days, and we’ve got work to do. First things first, we’re going to need IDs. And you need to get rid of that rental car.”
“What? Why?”
“Are you serious? There can’t be a trail. Unfortunately, you two already started one by flying to Colorado under your own names. Times have changed, Fran.”
“But Edie is in Tennessee. How will we get there without flying or driving a rental?”
“Easy,” Joan said. “The Caddy.”
That old Cadillac that had flown by them? “What about your mom?”
“She’s got another one.”
“It will take us forever to get to Tennessee. Can’t we fly like, on different airlines? You know, split up?”
“Nope. Too expensive and besides, I’ve got to take some wig options. They’re too important to be shoved into carry-on luggage.”
“How are you going to make IDs?”
“The same way I always have, princess, but with some technological enhancements. You wouldn’t believe the kind of things you can get on the dark web now,” she added proudly.
“Oh my God,” Frances whispered. “How are you both on the dark web?”
“Hey, you’re the one who came here asking me to commit a crime,” Joan reminded her.
“Will you both stop saying that? We don’t want to jinx it.”
“Give me your IDs and let me do my part. In the meantime, you need to eat something. And shower. You look a mess, girl.”
She felt like it, too. But Frances was excited. This was happening. She finally had something to look forward to. Something Big.