“Wait.” Edie turned her attention back to Marcy. “Did you learn anything useful on your helicopter ride?”
“I think so,” Marcy said. “One, only Rocco’s and Mark’s cards will work on the vault. He says that way, he or Mark must be there any time someone goes in.”
“That seems terribly inefficient,” Joan said.
“Also, he’s going to do the money transfer on Monday.”
That news was met with silence. “Three days?” Joan said. “I thought we had, like, more days than that.”
“So did I,” Irene agreed.
“Don’t panic,” Frances said. “We’re close.”
“Speak for yourself,” Edie countered. “I was only able to crack open that sucker once today,” she said, gesturing to the safe door. She rubbed her knuckles just thinking about it. Her fingers ached terribly. “The Pelican safe is more complicated.”
“Let’s all just keep a positive mindset,” Joan suggested.
“Joan, I swear to God, if you start that positive energy bullshit—”
“No fighting!” Irene said. “At least not now. Come on, you guys—we’ve got to get ready and go. We aren’t going to do anything if we can’t get access to the security information on Mark’s computer.”
“Agree,” Frances said, and she and her wonky eye retreated to the bedroom to change her clothes.
A half hour later, the “book club” walked to the Strip to hail a cab. Destination: The Midnight Cowboy.
Thirty
The Midnight Cowboy was in a renovated Smith’s grocery store—one could still make out the letters of the grocer under theEXCITING MALE REVUEneon sign. The parking lot was full, and a heavy bass beat echoed over the neighborhood.
Joan took out her hearing aid. “Sorry, girls—my hearing aid can’t deal with that level of loud.”
They made it as far as the front door before a tall and musclebound man stopped them. “You gals looking for trouble?” he asked. He was moving, his hips swaying to the beat, snapping his fingers like he was about to ask them to dance.
“Looking for fun!” Edie said.
The man stopped swaying his hips and looked them up and down. “Ladies—do you even know what sort of place this is?” he asked, his gaze zeroing in on Edie’s shirt with the stack of books.
“We heard it was raining men,” Frances said.
“I think you want the Magic Mike show.” He pointed toward the Strip and began to usher them toward the parking lot.
“We can’t afford that,” Joan said.
“Then maybe take in a movie. This isn’t a tourist spot, and you’re not exactly the demographic for the dancers here.”
“Why not?” Edie asked. “We like dancing. Come on, let us in.”
The man flashed a smile that was blistering white against his dark skin. “Not sure you’ll like this style of dancing. I know, because I’m one of the dancers. Trojan is my name. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pushed open the door.
They crowded into a vestibule and paid the price of admission. They then entered a space with music so loud that Edie worried they could all be blown back by the force of it. Neon flashing lights strobed across the crowded dance floor. Edie noticed Frances had put her hands to the temples, as if trying to contain the light and sound.
Irene pulled her bucket hat low over her eyes and huddled behind Joan. Only Marcy seemed to be enjoying it; she was bouncing around between them, dancing in place. They weren’t the only women in the establishment, but it was hard to distinguish drag queens from other women in that light.
They stood like deer in headlights until Edie corralled them all and drove them to the bar. The show had not yet started; men on the dance floor were grinding against each other. Some of them were making out, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around them. Irene ordered shots of tequila and passed them out.
“No thanks,” Frances said when Irene tried to put the shot glass in her hand. She looked white as a sheet.
“Haven’t you ever been to a gay bar?” Edie asked her.
