Twenty-two #2
The big bag of disguises made another appearance, and the four of them selected their casino surveillance looks.
Two worn housemaid uniforms for Edie and Frances, a black vest to transform Joan into a pit boss, and a chef’s coat for Irene.
“We’re on our way to work,” Joan said firmly. “That’s the look.”
“Your mom got maid uniforms at Goodwill?” Edie asked as she pulled on her tight, curly gray wig.
“No. I stole them from the hotel in Dallas,” Irene said. “The others, I put together with some of my things and other items of clothing I found in the bags Joan brought.”
“But what maids would be going to work in the afternoon?” Edie asked. “Wouldn’t they have to show up for work in the morning?”
“Not necessarily. It’s entirely possible there are two shifts.
But here’s the real kicker—no one gives a shit,” Irene said.
“Anyone who sees a maid, a pit boss, and a kitchen worker will forget about it the minute you walk past. They are on the hunt for celebrities and good deals and are blinded by all the neon lights. We are about as noticeable as the trash on the street.”
“Stop making us sound so glamorous,” Frances said.
She was wearing her hair in a bun today.
It had taken a surprising amount of strength to hold her arms up long enough to put the bun into position and secure it with bobby pins.
She’d been feeling pretty good, but sometimes, when the fatigue hit, it hit.
Joan tossed a tote bag at Frances. “You look the part, anyway.”
They all did, really. Their goal today was to return this evening with as much information about the Pelican as they could find. They needed to know entrances and exits. Where staff congregated. Shift changes. Bathroom locations. The layout of each floor.
They walked through the back gate and stepped into the alley, then walked to the Strip, where they split up.
Irene and Joan went on ahead. Frances and Edie waited a few beats by pretending to peer into the window of a karaoke club before slipping into the sea of people moving along the sidewalk.
Skinner was right—they were two minutes from the heart of the Strip.
“This is surreal,” Frances said as they walked along. “Remember the last time we were here?”
“How could I forget?” Edie said. “That was a magical couple of months. I was just thinking of Tom the other day. Remember him?”
Tom was a squat older guy who had fallen in love with Edie and had showered her with gifts and money.
“I googled him once,” Edie said. “He lost his shirt, his house, and everything else in some big sting. Apparently, he was embezzling from his employer the whole time.”
Frances laughed. “Birds of a feather, I guess. I’m glad you didn’t marry him.”
“Are you crazy? I was never going to marry him. I didn’t want a man to save me.”
Frances gave her a look.
“Don’t say it,” Edie said. “Simon was different. I really did love him. I did not love Tom.”
So many memories began to flood Frances’s brain—of them in the casinos, being plied with drinks. On the dance floor, going wild, Joan swinging over them on a crystal ball in some gig she took in a bar. She was supposed to be an angel, but she’d looked more like a warrior.
Memories of sex with men Frances had only just met and then promised to call the next day but never did. It was such a different time. She was such a different person now. A prude, as Marjorie would say.
“Vegas doesn’t look the same,” Edie said, glancing around them. “Or maybe it does. Was it always so grungy?”
“It was always grungy. The difference was, so were we. Then, we belonged on the Strip. Now, we belong in suburbia.”
“Yeah,” Edie said. “Are we too soft for this, Franny? I really want to bring this guy down, but I worry—”
Frances linked her arm through Edie’s. “Stop it. This is like old times. It’s like getting back on a bike. Come on, you used to be so fearless.”
“Yeah.” Edie smiled. “I really was, wasn’t I? I know some thought I was more in the reckless category, but I like fearless. Hey, did you ever tell your husband what you did before you married him?”
An image of a healthy, vibrant Nick loomed in her mind’s eye. “Hell, no,” she said. “Nick was a good man and it would have hurt him terribly. And when we had Aaron, well … my kid is such a straight shooter that if he even suspected I was doing something a little off-color, he’d have an aneurysm.”
“Off-color!” Edie laughed. “I think my kids would, too. They all think I’m a Southern belle and would have me committed.”
“You are a southern belle now.”
“Not really,” Edie said. “That’s as much a disguise as this maid uniform. I’ve always had to hide the truth of me.” She smiled sadly at Frances. “You know what I miss? The raw honesty we had. No secrets. Or rather, no need for secrets.”
Edie was kidding herself if she thought they didn’t have secrets then. Clearly, there had been a few.
“What will you tell your son if you are caught?” Edie asked.
Frances hadn’t really thought what she would tell Aaron. She might tell him about the cancer. But the rest of it? She wasn’t so sure. “What would you do?”
Edie shrugged as they waited for a traffic light to turn. “I think Simon will probably kill me, so … there’s that.”
Frances didn’t know if she was joking or not. “Then let’s not get caught. Let’s manifest success.”
Edie snorted. “Sure, Suzie Sunshine.”
Frances turned her gaze forward. She couldn’t allow herself to think anything else. Because the moment she let herself think they’d fail was the moment she feared she would give in to the cancer and give up.
The light turned and they crossed the street, then rounded a corner just in time to see Joan and Irene walk through the front doors of the Pelican. The two massive entry doors, looked like a pelican when closed, and like a giant pelican wingspan when opened.
“Here we are,” Frances chirped. “There’s no turning back now!”
There was, of course, turning back now. They could decide to throw in the towel at any time, up to the moment they took the money from the vault. Edie must have known so, too, because she started forward, striding as if she thought she might be locked out. Frances had to hurry to catch up.