“An angel investor type,” I press on. “Do you know what that means?”
Holly elbows me in the ribs. Okay, fine, maybe that sounded a bit condescending.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he exclaims, matching my contempt and leaning hard into his twang, “I’m just a good ol’ country boy. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout—”
“Of course he knows.” Holly steps between us, a big smile on her face, working overtime to smooth things over. “So, anyway, you just got your first trust fund payout,” she explains to Eli. “You’re desperate to show your daddy you can make it on your own, so you’re looking for a rock-solid investment. We get you into the country club. Then you casually run into Griggs—”
“Griggs Johnson. He’s the developer who’s stealing land from innocent families up here,” I interject. “The guy’s a total snake, but he’s also greedy as fuck.”
“All you have to do is score an invite to be the fourth in his standing Sunday golf game,” Holly adds. “At the nineteenth hole…” She pauses, looking up at him. “You know what that is, right?”
Eli rolls his eyes and keeps petting that cat but says nothing.
“Of course you know,” she continues. “Because you were made to do this job!” She turns to me, beaming. “See?” she erupts, triumphantly. “I had a feeling about this one.”
I, too, want to roll my eyes ather, but it’s almost cute how excited she is by this plan. And I have to admit, she’s good at stroking egos. Must be all the practice at the club.
“This one?” Eli asks, skeptical. “How many people have turned you down?”
“None,” I reply. “And neither will you, because the plan is simple. You’ll make Griggs think you’re deep in his old boy network, but also young and naive enough not to get that he and his golfing buddies are criminals. Eventually, you’ll make an offer to invest in his new development and ask him how he’s getting access to the land. Or, really, anything—details on bribes, bankingconnections, money laundering, shell companies.” I pause, lifting one finger in the air. “Anything to prove he’s a scumbag. Record one simple detail of his many crimes and we’re done.”
“We’ll give you a free makeover,” Holly adds. “New haircut, new clothes…” Holly’s voice trails off as she, like me, takes inventory of Eli’s tragic ensemble. Greasy, muddy work boots; saggy, ill-fitting jeans; and a baggy T-shirt under an open flannel long-sleeve shirt that, frankly, should’ve been turned into cleaning rags long ago. Eli follows our gaze, staring down at himself.
“What?” he asks, oblivious.
“Maybe even new golf clubs,” Holly swerves. “And I’ll coach you on what to do and say—every step of the way.”
“Oh,” he exclaims sarcastically, marking something off with a pencil, “like a circus monkey.”
“No,” Holly apologizes. “That’s not what I meant. I just—”
“Don’t those people check bank records, financial history?” Eli cuts in, gently pushing the cat from his lap and then moving to tidy up a shelf of fishing weights and line reels. “I mean, don’t take my word for it. I’m just some country boy running hustles for a living.”
“Actually,” Holly says, her voice rising, “that’s the great thing about these old-money families. They barely have any public presence at all. You only know they’re filthy rich if you’re a part of their world. So we wouldn’t need to create any physical record of your false identity. And I’ve already tracked down the perfect real-life person for you to pose as.”
He sighs, takes off his hat, then runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “Listen, ladies. I could pull something like this off, sure. I’m a professional. But it would cost you.”
We’ve got him now, I know it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Before he can change his mind, I tell him how much we can pay. He scratches his beard, releasing a low, long whistle. “We’ll pay half up front, half upon completion of the deal.” Eli doesn’t fight me on the payment terms. Seeing an opening, I press on. “And to be clear, you work for us. We set the rules, and you follow. No arguing. No going rogue. Understood?” My hands instinctively go to my hips, and my eyebrows arch in an expression mysister, Carola, has dubbed my don’t-fuck-with-me face. Which even my cop brother-in-law says is mildly terrifying.
Eli folds his arms tightly over his broad chest and nods in agreement.Message received.
“Well, all right, then, ladies,” he says, slipping into a charming-as-hell smile and an honest-to-God, authentic Mississippi drawl that’s so smooth it’s actually almost sexy. “When do we start?”
CHAPTER 12Holly
Sand or toasted almond? Which works better with his complexion?” I turn to Luisa for her opinion, but she’s distracted by her phone.
“I don’t wanna sound like an idiot,” Eli announces, looking perplexed as I hold out two pairs of flat-front performance trousers, “but why did we have to come all the way here, when the place we just left had perfectly good pants?”
Dressing him was supposed to be the easy part, the second step in our four-phase plan to turn our pool hustler into a guileless young angel investor.
Phase One:OperationMiss Congeniality, the identity tutorial.
Phase Two:OperationPretty Woman, the shopping spree.
Phase Three:OperationMaid in Manhattan, the full-body makeover.
