Thirty-three
Marcy was dressed in a shimmering gold slip dress. She looked so beautiful that Edie wanted to cry.
But Marcy also looked terribly subdued.
Edie’s conscience was biting at her. She loved this girl so much, maybe more than any of her children (was that possible?), and feared she was about to ruin her life.
“Marcy?” Her granddaughter looked at her, and Edie was reminded of the little girl running down the garden path in sunlight.
She had followed Edie around with her plastic scissors, pretending to deadhead plants with her.
Edie shook herself from the memory. “You don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now.”
Marcy gave her a quick roll of her eyes and turned her attention back to the mirror. “You never let us quit anything, and you want me to start now?”
Edie didn’t know what she wanted, quite honestly. They needed Marcy … but Marcy certainly did not need them. “What I don’t want is for anything to happen to you. Emotional, physical, or legal harm. Nothing.”
“I’m fine, Nana. Like I told you in the beginning, this is my fight.”
“But you don’t have to fight like we do, darling. You don’t have to fight at all. You’ve been wonderful, but I’m not sure you really—”
“I’m fine. Can you help me with this?” She held up her earpiece.
Edie helped her seat it behind her earring. “I’ll be on the floor below,” she said. “There’s a small bar there.”
“The Emperor’s Lounge,” Marcy said. “I know.”
“What if you get in trouble?” Edie asked. “What are you going to do?”
Marcy shrugged. “Get myself out of it, I guess.”
That sounded like something Edie herself would have said fifty years ago. But she didn’t have any faith that Marcy could get herself out of it. The problem, she too slowly had begun to realize, was that Marcy hadn’t been properly trained.
Marcy picked up her evening bag.
Was it too late? “You have everything?” Edie asked nervously.
Marcy opened her bag and showed her the capsule of Joan’s concoction. Part sedative, part mushroom or something. Marcy closed the bag. “I guess I’ll see you later.” She quit the room without looking back.
Edie’s heart left her chest and followed Marcy out the door. She felt sick. Almost dizzy with regret. But the wheels, as they say, had been set in motion.
A half hour later, dressed in a red wig, a ball cap, and a tracksuit, she followed her granddaughter. She looked like she was on the way to the betting track, because Irene had told her they had closed-caption racing in the Emperor’s Lounge.
Once there, Edie ordered a club soda and lime and took it out onto the bar’s small patio with its view of the Strip below.
She looked up, craning her neck to see the windows of the penthouse.
She saw windows, but she wasn’t entirely sure they were the right ones.
She took a sip of her drink, then tapped the tiny button on her sleeve to activate the mic and earpiece.
She heard Rocco first, his voice cutting in and out as if he was moving in and out of range. And then quite suddenly, she heard him clearly. He was talking about some expensive thing he’d bought for a song. “Got it cheap,” he said.
“That’s so cool,” Marcy said.
“Is there a man on the planet who doesn’t brag?” Edie muttered. More to let Marcy know she was here, but also, was there?
“No,” Marcy said, her voice calm and clear. “But thank you. I’m fine with the champagne. Gosh, the view is amazing, Rocco.” Marcy’s mic picked up the sound of her dress rustling as she moved.
“I’ve been waiting to show you this,” he said. “You can’t get views like this at the Bellagio. The Pelican is old style, you know? Like the days when the Rat Pack was king. All our views are sick.”
“The what?” Marcy asked.
Edie closed her eyes on a silent groan.
“The Rat Pack. You know, Frank Sinatra? Sammy Davis Jr.?”
Marcy didn’t respond.
“No way you don’t know them? Dean Martin, Joey Bishop, Peter Lawford. They were dope, man. Guy’s guys. The original party animals.”
“I’ve heard of Frank Sinatra,” Marcy said sweetly.
“Stick with me, babe, and I’ll teach you all sorts of things,” Rocco said, and then Edie heard the unmistakable and horrifying sound of a kiss.
“Barf,” Edie whispered. “Are you kissing him?”
“Oh, I think that’s dinner at the door,” Marcy said.
“I’ll get it,” Rocco said.
“Stop it, Nana,” Marcy whispered harshly.
“I’m sorry, but I want to punch him in the face,” Edie whispered back.
Rocco’s voice again. Edie could hear a cart rolling in, the sound of covers being lifted off plates. “No, over there,” Rocco directed. “I want her to see the Eiffel Tower.”
There were more sounds of dinner being set up, then Rocco dismissing the waiter.
“I’m starving,” Marcy said. “Would you like some scotch?”
“Thanks, that would be great,” Rocco agreed.
Edie sipped her drink and listened to Rocco wax philosophically of his prowess on the video game Grand Theft Auto. “I’m what’s considered a master,” he said. “I’ve finished more story lines than probably anyone else in history.”
“How great for humanity,” Edie muttered. She heard more drinks being poured.
Rocco continued to talk. Now, about cars. He’d gone to an auto show in New York and had put down money for a Genesis Magma.
“What’s that?” Marcy asked.
“A car, baby,” he said, and the condescension in his voice was like nails on Edie’s internal chalkboard. “It’s got an E-GMP platform, 600 horsepower.”
“Sounds so cool.”
“Sounds like a moron,” Edie said. “Does he notice he’s not the only one at the dinner table? This man likes to hear himself talk.”
“You been to Coachella?” Rocco asked Marcy.
“I haven’t. Let me top that off for you.” Edie heard the scrape of Marcy’s chair.
“Thanks, babe. Yeah, I was there last year. Hung out backstage with Lana Del Rey,” he added with a sniff.
“Bullshit,” Edie whispered.
“I’m just going to step in the powder room,” Marcy said. “Here’s your drink.”
Now all Edie could hear was the hard click of Marcy’s heels marching across the room, background to the rub of her dress against the mic. A moment later, she hissed into Edie’s ear, “Will you please cut it out? He’s just talking. You are making this so much harder than it already is.”
“The only thing missing from his monologue is his workout routine,” Edie shot back. “But fine. I’ll shut up.”
Marcy flushed the toilet and went back out.
“I could probably get you a meet-and-greet when she’s in Vegas next,” Rocco said. Then he chuckled. “Vegas. Is it just me, or does that word sound kind of funny?”
“I would love to meet her, Rocco,” Marcy purred. “You need another ice cube. Let me get that for you.”
“You work out, Marce?” Rocco said, his voice sounding a little thick. “I benched two sundred last week. Hundred.”
“Wow, that’s incredible.”
“Takes a lot of commit. Ment.”
Edie pictured Rocco sliding down in his seat. “You should get to the gym, you know that? You could tighten up those arms.” A dish suddenly shattered.
“Shit,” Rocco said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call housekeeping when we finish dinner.”
“We’re still eating?” Rocco sounded genuinely confused.
“Let me top off your drink,” Marcy said.
“You gotta drink, too,” Rocco said thickly.
“I am. See? This is my champagne.”
“It’s spensive,” he said. “I can afford the best. You know how much money I’ve made? Millions,” he slurred. “What you need to do, Marcy Marce Marce, is to invest your money.”
Marcy didn’t speak for a long moment—so long that Edie cringed hearing Rocco slurp his scotch. “What?” he asked blandly.
“I did invest my money.”
“Yeah?”
Another long pause. And then, “Riiight. Yeah, that didn’t work. But you know, you have to be prepared to lose money if you’re going to make money. You’re so pretty.”
“Thank you. You also should be prepared to face the consequences if you lose, right?”
“Egg-sactly.”
“My nana is always saying things like that. You reap what you sow, that sort of thing.”
“Smart old broad.” Rocco snorted a laugh.
“But don’t you feel a tiny bit bad about what happened?” Marcy asked sweetly.
“What happened?” Rocco asked dumbly.
“My friends and I invested a lot in your crypto.”
“What?” The sound of another dish breaking. “Oops.”
“I’ve got it,” Marcy said. “Watch where you step.”
“Babe, you can’t blame me for that. I got nothing to do with the price of crypto. It is what it is.”
“Yes, but—”
“You should have invested in the casino. This is going to be lit. Crypto king, right here.” More stumbling, the sound of chair moving.
“Tomorrow, right?” Marcy asked.
“Transfer tomorrow, at the stroke of midnight. It’s crypto time, baby. Having a big celebration in the Nest. Bands, booze … and something else. I don’t remember. You should come.”
“I’d love that,” she said, and Edie heard more liquid being poured.
“Hey, no more for me,” Rocco said, his words thick and slurred. “I’m really drunk. You wanna dance?”
“I do.”
What followed sounded like dogs were running around the room, knocking things over. Rocco was apparently bumping into furniture and the table.
“I don’t feel so good,” he said.
“Here, sit on the couch,” Marcy said. “You had a lot to drink.”
“I did? C’mere, I want to kiss your neck.”
“I like that,” Marcy said.
“You know what I like? I’ll show you,” he murmured.
And then silence. Edie could feel every muscle in her body tensing.
“Rocco? Are you asleep?”
Rocco muttered something incoherent.
“Make sure he’s upright,” Edie said.
She listened to Marcy’s exertion as she tried to move Rocco. “Okay, he’s definitely out,” Marcy confirmed.
“Call housekeeping. I’ll put the rest on alert.”
For several moments, Edie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She heard Marcy make the call, heard her pacing restlessly. It seemed forever before Irene finally came in.
“Take a breath,” Irene said to Marcy. “Check his pockets. I’ll check the bedroom.”
“It’s right there, next to the door.”
“Look at that, like he’s doing us a favor,” Irene said. “Okay, now pour out the booze and wash the glass you used. Put it back with the others. I’ll be back.”
And then Irene was gone. Edie was wound as a tight as a coil and feared one wrong move would send her sailing over the railing. She couldn’t imagine how Marcy must feel. “Are you okay, love?”
“How can I be okay? I just roofied a guy. What if he doesn’t come out of it?”
“He’s breathing. I can hear him from here. You need to leave him a note. Say something like he got too drunk and you had to go. That you waited around … just something that makes it look like it’s all his fault.”
Marcy didn’t respond. Edie could tell she was pacing again. “What if I killed him, Nana?”
“You didn’t kill him. He’s snoring.”
“This very thing happened to a girl I knew in college, did I ever tell you? Someone roofied her and raped her and she was never the same. It’s horrible.”
She was starting to spiral and it alarmed Edie. “It’s not a roofie. And it’s true that sometimes in this line of work we do things we don’t like—”
“Don’t like? This isn’t a dentist appointment, Nana.”
“What do you want me to say? That the bastard had it coming? Because that’s what I think.”
“What is taking them so long?” Marcy pleaded.
“Breathe,” Edie said. She was heading out of the bar.
To where, she didn’t know. She felt panicked and sick with worry that Marcy would be caught.
That they’d all be caught. “Everything is fine. We’re right on schedule.
” What schedule? They weren’t on any schedule.
Nothing about this was fine! Is this what she’d wanted?
Revenge? Because it didn’t feel like that’s what she wanted right now.
She hated herself right now, hated the fear in Marcy’s voice.
She hated that she’d called Simon last night. That conversation was still clanging about in her head.
She couldn’t really pinpoint why she’d picked up the phone and called him.
Sure, he’d been blowing up her phone wanting to know when she was coming home, to say that he was sorry, that he wanted to talk.
But she’d been down this road before with him.
It was always the same—he pushed her until she pushed back hard.
But over the last day or so, she’d been feeling uncertain about this heist, and in particular, having Marcy here.
And when she was scared or uncertain, she wanted to hear his voice.
It might have been that simple, the thing that made her call him.
The thing about Simon was that she hated him most days and resented the way he held her past over her head, and disapproved of his lying, cheating ways … but she loved him.
“Edie,” he’d said when she’d called, and she could hear the relief in his voice. “I was beginning to wonder if you were alive.”
“Why do you care?” she’d shot back. “Isn’t Linda keeping you warm at night?
” That was the other thing about their marriage—Edie had always found it hard to let go of her anger.
It was another part of their ritual—she needed to punch and punch and punch until she got it all out of her system. She needed him to grovel.
“It’s over with Linda,” Simon said immediately. “I don’t know what got into me—”
“You’re a cheating, lying dick, that’s what. You don’t deserve to lick the bottom of my shoe.”
“I know. I—”
“I hate you, Simon. I don’t want to see your bloated face or ever hear your whiny voice again.”
“I’m so sorry, Edie,” he said, sounding almost tearful. “I swear to you, this is it. I will never be unfaithful again. It’s not even that, it’s just this sick compulsion I have. They never mean nothing to me. Linda is the last one, I swear it.”
“Until the next one comes along, you mean.”
“No, no, I swear to you, I swear on the lives of our children, I will never do this again. I miss you so much, darling. I want you to come home. Please come home. We can work this out. I need you.”
Edie hated herself because she let him back in.
She wasn’t stupid enough to believe him, and she knew they would be here again until some STD rotted his dick.
But she could not stop loving him. She had tried, and she could never stop.
And he, for whatever reason, even knowing fully who she was, loved her.
Their marriage was complicated before that was even a box to tick.
It was dark and twisted … but it worked for them.
They’d been together for years, had four beautiful children.
She knew they’d be together still. And she hated herself for it.
But she wondered if he would still love her if he ever learned what she did to their granddaughter. And that was perhaps the truly sick thing—she knew he probably would.
Edie stood outside the bar, her back against the wall, listening. She and Marcy did not speak. The only sound was Rocco’s constant snoring.
Marcy suddenly spoke. “Thank God, you’re back.”
“Give it fifteen minutes,” Irene said. “Then get out.”
Edie heard the door close. “I’ll see you back at the house,” Edie said calmly.
Marcy did not respond.