Marcy looked at her blankly.
“I thought you wanted him to pay for what he did.”
“Ido,” 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.”
