Thirty-four
The room felt charged with a high volt of electricity when they reconvened, everyone a collection of frayed nerves and adrenaline.
Frances’s new meds weren’t working like she’d hoped, and she’d ended up taking a higher dosage of the steroid than prescribed.
Now she felt ready to fight. Physically.
Like in a ring, just box the shit out of someone or something.
Except Joan—she’d watched Joan practice her kung fu, and that woman looked lethal.
“We did it,” Joan said excitedly. “The switch has been made and Prince Charming is snoring away on his couch.”
“How long before Boy Genius figures out his badge doesn’t work?” Irene asked.
“He doesn’t need it to get to the penthouse,” Joan said. “The guards let him up. Just the vault, I think. What’s his plan for tomorrow?”
“I just happen to have the latest communiqué between security and ownership,” Irene said, opening her laptop. “They still plan to transfer the casino to crypto at midnight. The money move will happen after that,” Irene said. “Mark’s calendar is blank.” She looked at Marcy. “What do you know?”
“I don’t … I don’t know,” Marcy said. She seemed tired. Confused, even. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “We didn’t really talk about tomorrow, other than some sort of celebration at the Nest tomorrow night.”
Frances was on pins and needles, and staring at the mopey face of Marcy, she felt all her steroid rage directed at her. “It would have been helpful if you’d asked.”
Her snippy tone caught everyone by surprise. Edie looked murderous.
“What?” Marcy asked dumbly.
“‘What?’” Frances mimicked. “You pushed yourself into this group, even after we told you to go away. You got your wish, so stop moping around and step up and get the information we need.”
“Hey,” Joan said softly.
Frances looked around at their confused expressions. Was she wrong? She didn’t think so.
“I’m so sorry,” Marcy said. “I tried—”
“Stop, Marcy,” Edie said sternly. “You have done your best. Franny might have forgotten that this is your first time,” she said, glaring at Frances, “and this is hard. But the good news is, you’ve done the hard part. Everything is in place now.”
“About that,” Marcy said. She began to twirl a tress of her hair around her finger. “Can’t we just ask him to give me the money back? Wouldn’t that be better than trying to steal millions of dollars and risking everything?”
“This is what I’m saying,” Frances said, gesturing at Marcy. “You should have asked that question a long time ago.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Edie snapped.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Frances replied testily, although she did know.
She suspected nerves, a healthy dose of steroids, and the end of her life were all mixing toxically.
“Here we are in the eleventh hour, and now, suddenly, the princess has a problem. We never did. We committed and we didn’t complain. ”
“Fran, honey, calm down,” Joan said. “Want a gummy?”
“I’m trying to be calm, and no, thank you.”
“She’s right,” Marcy said. “She’s right! I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. What if Rocco doesn’t wake up? What if I killed him? The only thing he wanted to do was show his mom that his grandpa was right to put his trust in him.”
“He was breathing,” Irene said. “Snoring. He’s fine.”
“But what if we get caught? What if they catch us? What if they shoot us?” Marcy continued in a panic.
“Jesus,” Frances said angrily.
Edie stood up and grabbed her granddaughter by the shoulders. “It’s normal to have butterflies. Fear is healthy in a situation like this. But we’re almost finished here, darling. After tomorrow night, we can go back to Hunterville and pick up where we left off and forget all about Rocco Vitali.”
“Fear is not the problem,” Frances said.
“God, Fran, will you shut up?” Edie said hotly.
Frances would not shut up. “What we’ve got here, ladies, is a case of fucking history fucking repeating itself.”
Again, everyone gaped at her. Joan leaned toward her, her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay, Frances?”
But Irene demanded, “What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious? She’s fallen for this guy and she’s going to forget what he did to her and screw us in the end. History repeating itself, like grandma like granddaughter.”
Edie gasped. “How dare you?”
“How dare I? We planned the heist against Simon for a month, and then you blew it,” she said hotly.
“I didn’t blow it! He figured it out, I told you. You know this.”
“Wait, what?” Marcy asked, looking at Edie.
“Stay out of it, Marcy,” Edie warned her.
“No, no, let’s clue Marcy in on how you screwed your best friends. How she can’t be honest about what was going on with her and apparently, neither can you. Frankly, none of you can!” Frances’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. Could steroids cause one’s heart to explode?
“How did we get dragged into this?” Irene exclaimed.
“You’ve been in love all these years and you never told us?
You hid it? You lied to us! And you lied, Edie.
You’re still lying! You can blame Simon all you want, but I know you.
I know you fell in love with him, and it was okay with you that he tried to turn us in, because you were going to get your fairy tale, and you didn’t give a fuck what happened to us. ”
The color drained from Edie’s face. “That is not true,” she said, her voice shaking. “But so what if it was, Frances? I never had that. I loved him. I still love him.”
“Yep. The bathroom phone call has been reported.”
“What call?” Joan demanded.
“It’s nothing,” Edie said with a flick of her wrist. “I talked to Simon. He’s my husband—I have to talk to him.”
“Your cheating husband!” Frances cried. “You led us to believe you could hardly stand him.”
Edie’s face sagged, and for once, she looked older than her years. “It’s over, Franny. His affair is over.”
This news made Frances even more irrationally angry, if that was even possible. How much had Edie given up to that man through the years? “For now,” she said, seething. “But he’ll do it again.”
“Probably. But I love him and it’s my problem,” Edie said simply.
“See?” Frances said to Irene and Joan. “All lies!”
“You want to talk about lies, Fran?” Joan asked cooly.
“Both of you are liars. You pretended to be concerned for me and Irene when the FBI got involved, but in reality you never thought past your own fate. Don’t lie now and tell me you did, because it was obvious—you were on a plane before we even knew.
Did either one of you ever think what would happen to me or Irene if we were caught?
Did you think the FBI would go easy on us, the two minorities? ”
“No,” Edie said flatly. “Franny is right about that—I thought only about me. I was careless, and Simon found out, and he threatened me, and I did what he said because I loved him. I loved all of you! But you know what? It was the best decision I ever made. I’ve had an amazing life.
I have four beautiful children, six beautiful grandchildren. ”
“Well, good for you that you got a better family,” Joan said. “We didn’t,” she said, gesturing between her and Irene. “We were family until you blew it all up for your own selfish reasons. And why the hell did you keep the brooch? Don’t look so smug, Fran. You weren’t much better.”
Frances was livid now. “Why are you coming at me? She was turning me in, too.”
“You had means. We didn’t. You never looked back.”
“And you never told us about your secret love affair,” Edie said to Joan. “So, you’re right, we’re all liars, and maybe now is a good time for everyone to tell the truth. Let’s start with you, Frances.”
Frances’s head was pounding now. “Excuse me?”
“You think I’m stupid, but all those pills you’re taking …? They aren’t supplements. So, what is wrong with you? Parkinson’s? Cancer?”
And just like that, the rage in Frances’s sails was blown out by a single word. “None of your business,” she said tightly.
“Fran?” Joan said. “You have cancer? I thought something was going on, but—”
“It’s fine,” Frances said, and waved her hand at them in a feeble attempt to stop the questions.
“What kind?” Irene asked. “Curable or incurable?”
Frances couldn’t help her sad chuckle. “Leave it to Irene to get right to the point. Yes, it’s cancer. And it’s incurable. It’s an inoperable brain tumor.”
The silence that fell over the room felt like a weighted blanket. Frances could see the shock and the pity, and she loathed it.
“Franny,” Edie said softly.
“Don’t.” Frances threw a hand up. “Just … don’t. I’ve lived a good life. I’m okay.” She stood up. Too quickly, apparently, because she had to catch herself on the wall. She started unsteadily toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Irene asked.
“Away from all of you,” Frances said. “We’re all liars.
Great! Glad we got that out of the way. I was a fool for thinking we could reunite.
That we could rekindle what we had, which for me were the three most important relationships of my life outside my husband and child.
I was an idiot to think that at our age we could pull this off.
I was a bigger idiot to think we could trust a young woman with too much to lose.
So, please forgive me for dragging you along, but I am dying, and this was my Make-A-Wish, and that is my trump card. ” She opened the door and went out.
Into cool night air. Into dark, into silence, into the unknown.
She’d been headed here all along.