“How many times do I have to say it?” Frances said. “I’m sorry I was late, but I was ironing my hair. You can’t iron one half and not the other. And besides, I thought we’d agreed to go later.”
“Recollections may vary,” Joan said, mimicking Queen Elizabeth.
It had all begun with a runway show. They hadn’t tried to steal a lot of jewelry, but this was a perfect opportunity to pay it back to the designer who had tried to force himself on Joan on previous casting calls. The casting couch wasn’t just limited to Hollywood.
The job had been easier than it should have been. On thenight of their heist, Irene was close by in her craft services position (she always managed to get a service job). Frances had finagled a ticket through an old family friend and took a seat near the door to the dressing area. Irene had let Edie in through a service door. She was, of course, the lure for the security guard. It was amazingly easy then—there was no technology, just a young guy with a gun whose head was turned by a young woman in a low-cut minidress holding a string of condoms for no apparent reason. “What, these old things?” she would purr.
Edie could charm the venom from a snake. And while she flirted with him, Irene and Frances followed Joan into the dressing area and stuffed their pockets and bras and a small tote bag with jewels. They walked out of there, met up with Edie later in a bar, then decamped to Irene’s terrible little apartment in Chelsea. Their plan was to take the jewelry to the Diamond District the next day. They knew of a jeweler who would fence items.
That’s when things went awry. They had a rule—none of them ever alone when “conducting business.” Joan and Frances had agreed to take the jewelry, and Joan had been eager to go. But Frances was ironing her hair. They’d agreed to meet there.
Frances, Irene, and Edie left a little later and made their way to the Diamond District. But when they arrived, Frances noticed Joan through the storefront window. The way she was standing seemed … off.
“Something’s wrong,” she said to Edie and Irene.
Both turned to look.
“What do we do?” Irene asked.
“I’m going in,” Frances said.
“I’ll get a cab,” Irene said.
Frances didn’t hear the rest—she was darting across the street. She entered the store with a lot of noise. “Sorry!” she called out. She walked over to where Joan was standing at the counter, the jeweler behind the counter, holding a phone receiver in his hand. Both looked oddly murderous.
“Do you have pearls?” Frances blurted. “I have a wedding toattend this weekend. Just a choker or something. Maybe earrings?”
“I’m in the middle of something,” the jeweler said.
“So sorry,” Frances said to Joan. “If you could just point me toward the pearls.”
“Lady, if you don’t mind—”
The door opened again, and Edie entered. She’d been wearing a jacket, but that was gone. She had on a thin T-shirt and no bra. “Laura,” Edie snarled. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Frances knew Edie so well that she had instantly understood her role. “Are youfollowingme?”
“Are you sleeping with my husband?” Edie shot back.
“I can’t help it if he doesn’t want to sleep with you. That’s your problem, not mine.”
Edie lunged for Frances and grabbed her as if she meant to take her down. They twisted around, pretending to fight, screeching at each other.
“Hey!” the jeweler shouted. He slammed down the phone and came over the counter to break up their fight. When he’d finally pulled them apart, Joan was gone. Frances ran to the door. “Stop following me!” she screamed, and fled.
Edie stayed, of course, to let the jeweler mollify her.
Recalling all that now, Frances couldn’t help it. She giggled. “What an idiot.”
“Remind me why he got cold feet?” Irene asked.
“He didn’t get cold feet,” Joan said. “But he wasn’t going to pay a Black woman for her hard work. He was going to call the cops.”
“At least you cleared out his cash drawer,” Edie said. When the fight broke out, Joan leaned across the counter and grabbed what she could. The jewelry she’d brought in was too far out of reach.
“One hundred and sixty dollars,” Joan said. “A very poor return on our investment.”
It was one of the few times they failed.
