Thirty-one
Frances vomited first thing the next morning. She was not hungover; she’d had only one shot last night. But the pain in her head was fire.
Fortunately, none of the other revelers was stirring, so she sat on the cold bathroom floor and called Amani. After she’d said hello and asked after Amani’s day, she said, “Umm … so listen. I need more medicine. A bigger dose of the steroids.”
“Mmm,” Amani said, and even in that, she sounded disapproving.
Frances could hear the clicking of computer keys on the other end.
“May I ask about your symptoms?” She proceeded to rattle off a list for Frances to respond to.
Headaches? Pain? Nausea? Blurred vision?
Loss of hearing, sight, feeling? Fatigue? Slurred speech? Trouble speaking?
Frances had always been an over-sharer in doctors’ offices, but today, she lied about her symptoms. She feared Amani wouldn’t give her what she wanted if she were entirely truthful, because something wasn’t right.
She knew it; Amani knew it. But Frances did not want a death nurse telling her to slow down, or come home, or go to an emergency room.
At least not until she’d finished this last trip.
“Some pain,” she said, although she was hanging her head over the toilet because the pain was so bad.
“Some nausea. But I’m sleeping okay.” She did not add that all she wanted to do was sleep.
“I’d like to see you,” Amani said. “I’m here to help, and there might be something I can give you to alleviate symptoms. But I can’t do it without an exam.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. I’m out of town. I just need a few more days,” Frances pleaded. “Then I’ll come in. I promise. You can examine me up and down the street then.”
There was silence on the other end. Too much silence. But at last, Amani spoke. “I can call in some scrips for now. But I really need to see you, Mrs. Deluca.”
“I know, I know,” Frances said. The panic she was feeling was spilling into her voice, she could hear it. “Amani … please let me have this. I’m with some old friends, and it’s the last time I’ll get to see them. I just … I just want to be present for the few days we have left.”
There was another long pause on Amani’s end. “I’ll call the scrips in, but I need an appointment on the books.”
Frances closed her eyes and swallowed down her panic. “Absolutely. Next Friday, how’s that?”
“A little further out than I am comfortable with, but okay. Nine o’clock, my office.”
“I’ll be there.” She gave Amani the number of the closest pharmacy.
When she was feeling somewhat better, Frances came out of the bathroom. Marcy was outside, waiting her turn. She yawned. “Next time I hope we get a place with at least two bathrooms.”
“Next time?” Frances snorted. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Never say never. According to Irene, that’s what you said forty-something years ago.” Marcy brushed past Frances and went into the bathroom.
Tea. She needed tea. Frances went into the kitchen and rummaged around until she found some tea bags.
When Marcy came out of the bathroom, she joined Frances.
She sat at the kitchen table with her knees tucked up under her chin, her arms wrapped around her shins.
Her long dark hair fell over half her face as she watched Frances try to choke down some yogurt. “You don’t look so hot,” she observed.
“Thank you,” Frances said. “Always what I like to hear first thing after a night of partying. It’s been a long time since that happened.”
“How long?” Marcy asked curiously.
“I don’t know, let me think. Thirty years?” She was thinking of her fortieth birthday. Nick had surprised her with a trip to Greece. A smile spread across her face. She could picture the two of them dancing on a balcony. They’d been so young and alive. And so in love.
Also, so damn drunk. She chuckled to herself.
“I wish I’d known you then,” Marcy said. “I was watching Nana last night. You know, when she got up onstage and danced with Trojan?”
Frances laughed. “If you could call it that.” Edie had been so drunk, her melodious laughter lifting above the noise in the crowd.
But her movements were out of sync with the music.
Just like she used to do years ago, Edie had thrown abandon to the wind, allowing the spirit of whatever she was doing to take her.
“She would never do that at home,” Marcy said.
“No?”
Marcy shook her head. “She’s so different there. Prim and proper, like an old English lady. Like, she never goes into town unless she’s properly dressed. She and Pappa never dance, and if they did, it would be a waltz or something.”
Frances laughed at the image of Edie waltzing. “The Nana you saw last night is the Edie we all knew when we were younger. And she was never properly dressed.”
“What happened to you guys, anyway?” Marcy asked. “I mean, it’s obvious you all love each other and are close and talk to each other like sisters. I would never believe you hadn’t seen each other in almost fifty years, except that you all say that. What happened?”
Frances pushed the container of yogurt away from her. “Same thing that always happens when women fall out—a man came between us. Because Edie fell in love for the first time.”
“With Pappa?”
“Yep.”
Marcy frowned. “She was never in love before him?”
“No. Don’t misunderstand—there were always men around Edie. She was like a siren mermaid, and they couldn’t resist her.” She smiled. “There was this one guy; he was determined to get her to Hollywood and transform her into a star. But your grandfather was the one who swept her off her feet.”
Marcy rested her chin on her knees and gazed at the clock on the old stove. “I know they fight a lot. But they love each other, too. She was talking to him last night.”
That was a bit of a surprise. Frances wasn’t aware they were speaking this trip.
“He wants her to come home,” Marcy added.
“He does?”
“I think so. It was after everyone had gone to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I heard her in the bathroom saying she didn’t know if she could trust him. But she didn’t sound mad.” Marcy shook her head. “My mom told me that Pappa cheats on Nana.”
Frances shrugged. “That’s men for you.”
“Did your husband cheat on you?”
“Mine? Never. Nick was special. He was …” The swirly, sickly feeling of longing swept through her. She had a sudden and overwhelming urge to be with him. It won’t be long, Nick. “He was special,” she said again.
“I think Nana really does want to trust Pappa,” Marcy said. “I could hear it in her voice.”
A dark thought popped into Frances’s head. If Edie wanted to trust Simon, could they really trust Edie?
Marcy’s phone pinged. She unwound herself and pulled her phone from a pocket. She looked at the screen. A smile slowly spread across her pretty face.
“Who is that?” Frances asked.
“Rocco. He wants to have dinner tonight in his penthouse.” She typed something out, slipped the phone back into her pocket, still smiling. “He’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”
Great. Add Marcy to the list of people who could not be trusted. “Not as bad as the man who stole your life savings from you?”
At least Marcy winced a little. “That was terrible. But … when we took the helicopter ride over Red Rock, he was so nice and respectful. We talked a lot. He feels like he never measured up. He said his dad was always disappointed in him, and his grandpa was the only one who ever believed in him. And that he’s made mistakes, but now, he’s finally making something of himself. ”
“Poor baby,” Frances said sarcastically.
Marcy ignored her. “His mom has been having a rough time since his grandpa died. I think he wants to do the casino thing for her. To prove his grandpa’s trust wasn’t misplaced. I can totally relate to that, you know? Like, no one ever expects anything of me. I’m the family screwup.”
Frances had no desire or patience to live through Marcy’s insecurities just now. “I’m sure you’re not,” she said absently.
“I’m just saying I understand Rocco. Yes, he did a horrible thing and screwed me and lots of others. But people make mistakes. I don’t think he’s like … bad. Know what I mean?”
Frances knew exactly what she meant, and it wasn’t good. “Just curious. What did Rocco learn about you yesterday? Does he know you lost everything because of his Ponzi scheme?”
Marcy looked at her blankly.
“I thought you wanted him to pay for what he did.”
“I do,” Marcy insisted. “I’m just saying he’s not a complete asshole. That’s all.”
Frances didn’t buy it for a moment. “Be careful, Marcy. A snake is a snake is a snake.”
Edie suddenly appeared, her hair wildly tangled, her makeup smeared under her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What have I missed?”
“We’re just chatting,” Marcy said, and began to unwind herself. “Rocco wants to have dinner in his penthouse tonight.”
“A booty call,” Frances said.
“Franny.”
“What? Don’t you think she knows what it is?”
Edie didn’t get a chance to respond because Irene crowded in behind Edie, holding her laptop, Joan on her heels. “We’ve got a problem. They want to do the transfer tomorrow night now. Our boy is impatient—he’s arguing with Mark that the crypto is ready to go.”
It felt as if the air was sucked out of that small kitchen. “Tomorrow as in Sunday?” Frances asked, surprised.
“Tomorrow night, as in Sunday, at midnight,” Irene said, looking at her laptop.
“That’s not enough time. We can’t be ready,” Edie insisted. “How can we be ready? I can hardly even see this morning.”
“We’re going to have to be ready,” Joan said. She squatted, rose up with a kick, then punched the air. “I think I tweaked my shoulder dancing last night. Anyway, I’ve got some herbs that will help clear your head.” She punched the air again.
“Joan!” Edie complained.
“I have to practice! I’m all the muscle we’ve got, remember? Unless … maybe Trojan?”
Frances gasped. Edie roared her dissent. “Absolutely not! You know the rule—no outsiders.”
Joan pointed wordlessly at Marcy.
Edie’s jaw dropped. “It was your idea!”
“I think the point is, we’ve already opened this thing up,” Irene said. “We might need the help and I bet Trojan would be amenable for a nice payout.”
“I’m not sure we can afford his nice payout, just going off last night,” Frances said.
“Ladies!” Irene said sharply. “We need to get our shit together. Now look, we’ve got everything in place. Our biggest obstacle is entry. We need Rocco’s key pass.”
“She’s seeing him tonight,” Frances said, nodding at Marcy.
Everyone turned toward Marcy. The young woman paled. “Yeah, but I … I mean, I am. But I don’t know how.”
“That’s why we need a plan,” Irene said. “Everyone, get dressed. We’ve got to figure out how to get that key pass or we might as well get in the Caddy and drive home.”
They did as she commanded. When Frances was dressed, she stepped out to get her meds and returned with a new boost of steroids and sandwiches for them all. The rest of them had already cobbled together a semblance of a plan while she was out.
Unfortunately, the plan involved roofying Rocco. Marcy looked ill.
“She’ll slip it into his drink,” Irene explained.
“As soon as he passes out, she’s going to create a mess and call housekeeping.
I will come to clean it up—no one is going to question why I’m there.
I hope, anyway. Mel, the security guard, has complained how no one ever knows who is working, that they can’t keep workers, and disorganization is a big reason.
Marcy will give me the pass, I will pass it to Joan, she will make a dupe, which I will return to Marcy to leave on Rocco. ”
“Just like that?” Frances asked. “Won’t that take some time?”
“Not if you have a printer set up in a nearby vehicle,” Joan said. “I’ve got a text in to Skinner.”
“Is anyone concerned with how many innocent people we are involving?” Edie demanded.
Her question went unanswered.
“How much time will we have to work with?” Frances asked.
“A couple of hours,” Joan said. “If he’s drunk, maybe longer.”
Marcy was shaking her head. “I don’t know. This seems really bad, you guys. You want me to roofie him? That’s illegal. And it’s super dangerous. Won’t he know that I did it?”
“Roofying him is bad but stealing millions is okay?” Frances snapped. Her anxiety and the steroids were apparently kicking in. But now was not the time for the faint of heart.
“First of all, it’s not a true benzo,” Joan explained. “It’s mushrooms. Second, we’re open to other ideas.” She looked pointedly at Marcy and sounded like she sincerely wanted another idea.
Predictably, Marcy shook her head, then shrank in her chair.
“We’ll be in your ear the whole time,” Edie assured her.
“How does that help?” Marcy asked morosely.
“Just make sure he drinks,” Joan said. “Like, a lot. The trick is to get him to think he did it to himself. We’ll do the rest. Does anyone have a sedative?”
Frances raised her hand.
Marcy looked like she was on the verge of tears. She stood up and tried to leave the room, but Frances caught her hand before she could. “Remember the number one rule.”
“Keep quiet?” Marcy asked.
“Try again.”
“Keep my eyes peeled.”
Jesus. “No. The number one rule is Don’t fall for the mark.” Frances shifted her gaze to Edie. “Right, Edie?”
Edie glared back at Frances. “Right, Frances.”
“Okay, we all know the things we must do today,” Irene said. “Take your vitamins, eat something, and don’t forget to hydrate! We don’t need any delirious old ladies not knowing their names.”
No, they did not need that.