“Thanks.”
“Okay, Golden Girls,” Skinner said. “Everyone ready?”
They were as ready as they would ever be.
Thirty-seven
Edie’s heart was pounding so hard that she couldn’t hear a thing, and they hadn’t even made it to the vault. Skinner had dropped them off in different places, of course, so no one would see them together. Edie met Frances by the elevators, and they’d slipped down the stairs, two old women chatting away. Now, they were holed up in a small supply closet on the basement floor, their old-lady clothes discarded, their security uniforms ill-fitting.
Edie had Joan’s hearing aid, a stethoscope, and a small notepad to write down the codes. She had to keep chanting a silent mantra to herself:The hard part is getting into the vault. The rest is easy. The hard part is getting into the vault. The rest is easy.Talk about the lies they told themselves.
She and Frances didn’t speak, just listened. The first person they heard was Irene at the employee entrance. She was talking to Mel, the friendly security guard. “Girl, you haven’t got that badge replaced?” Mel asked.
“You know how long they take,” Irene said. “It’s like molasses up there.”
“You got that right,” Mel said with a chuckle.
“Are you going to be here?” Irene asked. “I’ve got to get my cart and go downstairs to clean the bathrooms.”
“Here all night.”
A few moments later, Irene asked, “Joan, are you in?”
“In,” came Joan’s muffled response.
Edie noticed Frances kept pressing two fingers to her temple, and she wondered if she was in pain or simply nervous. The noise coming through their communications was chaotic and loud—it seemed the entire casino was in a party mood, giving the historic event happening tonight. She could hear Irene over the din, chatting with someone. Then Marcy, ordering a glass of wine.
“There is a lot of press here,” Marcy said low.
Good. Rocco’s humiliation would be recorded far and wide.
“Oh myGod,” Marcy said suddenly.
“What?” Edie asked, her heart pounding harder. “What’s wrong?”
“He iswithsomeone. He’s got his arm around some chick’s waist!”
“His mom?” Joan asked from somewhere.
“No! She’smyage. That absoluteshit,”Marcy said angrily.
“He’s a prick, we’ve already established it,” Irene said. “It’s almost go time, ladies. Everyone in their places?”
“Yes,” Frances and Joan said in unison.
“Hey, Rocco,” Marcy said.
“Marcy, no!” Edie tried, but it was too late. Through the earpieces, they could hear Marcy confront Rocco. “Who is this? Because I thought you’d been trying to get me in bed this week,” she said.
Rocco laughed. “I don’t think so. We’ve just been hanging out. You’re not really my type.”
Marcy gasped. “You think you get to have a type?” she said, her voice rising. “Hey! Hey, you!” Marcy yelled. “If he asks you to invest, run the other way.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Rocco said.
Edie gasped with outrage. “Marcy! You can’t leave! We need to know where he is.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving,” Marcy said with a dark laugh. “I’m going to watch his sorry ass go up in flames.”
