A Heist Story

by Ellen Simpson

  “That’ll be the day.” The officer laughed. “I saw your poster up in her office.”

  Marcey scowled.

  “Did you do what it says?”

  “I was a minor. And I was acquitted.” Marcey let the officer lead her into an interview room. “What she’s doing is illegal.”

  “I think you’d need to guess again, kid,” the officer said. “She wouldn’t ever condone it if it wasn’t legal. She ain’t stupid.” He settled her into a chair across from a concerned-looking Devon Austin Jackson and his companion. The officer removed her handcuffs and pocketed them. He turned to leave.

  Marcey’s eyes slid over the careful updo and the extremely professional suit Kat was wearing. Her eyes were hooded, cast in dark eye shadow and an air of mystery. Marcey wanted to slap her. “What are you doing here?”

  Kat had the nerve to look wounded. It seemed they were both far better actresses than they gave themselves credit for. “I was concerned about you, darling.”

  Devon shot Kat a weary look. He rolled his eyes when Marcey caught his gaze. Marcey closed her eyes, revulsion leaping forward. She felt dirty, playing this game, like the deck was already stacked against her and she was set to be screwed over by Kat just because that was the game Kat wanted to play. That was the game she and Topeté were playing.

  “You landed my ass in here.”

  “That was entirely your doing, actually,” Kat shot back. “One does not simply waltz into the dragon’s lair and expect to come away…unscorched.” She quirked an eyebrow. Marcey glared.

  Ever the peacemaker, Devon put up his hands. “Ladies, please.”

  Marcey sat back, her arms folded across her chest. “You can’t get me out of this, Devon. I have to get taken down to Central Booking before you can bail me out.”

  Nodding, Devon slipped a piece of paper across the table at Marcey. Marcey picked it up, reading carefully. The penmanship was messy, clearly not Kat or Shelly’s. “We thought we’d communicate to you what the next steps were to get out once booked, since you were…waylaid,” Devon explained. Marcey read quickly, following the innuendo without prompting.

  Devon clicked his pen and drew a line across the bottom of the document. “This is what has already happened. The below is what is going to happen, should you give the word.”

  The plan was simple: they would walk out of here right now. The paperwork had already been filed with the courts last night. Marcey would never be booked, and therefore would be free of the blemish on her record. Kat didn’t know about that part of the deal Marcey and Topeté had struck. Topeté had sorted all of it out, initialed each page as though to assure Marcey that her hands had been all in this ruse.

  But the next steps were complicated. Marcey had to play along perfectly. Marcey scowled, wondering if the messiness of this was Kat, or if this was some sort of backhanded revenge for going to Topeté with the book before it was time. She was playing both sides now, in the complicated little war that was transpiring between Kat and Topeté; if she had to be sick, so be it. She could be sick.

  But what good would it do?

  Humiliation burned at Marcey’s cheeks. She didn’t understand and didn’t want to ask.

  A little vial pressed into her waiting palm wasn’t enough to make her want to ask, but it wasn’t enough to make her take anything either. She stared at Devon across the table. “Why do it this way?” she asked.

  Devon grinned at her. “I would think it obvious. You want to fuck up someone’s day, don’t you?”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “I don’t think you realize what you’re compromising by not going along with this,” he answered. “Your paperwork’s already been filed. I don’t know who did it, Mar, but they’ve hooked you up. All we need to do is get you checked out.” He glared at her pointedly. Marcey tilted her nose up and tried not to look indignant. She’d figured this out. This was just an added humiliation. Kat wanted her departure memorable, but not in a way that would make the paperwork seem oddly timed.

  That bitch.

  “You say you’ve been feeling ill since you had to spend time in the cell? Why didn’t you say something?” Kat’s expression was kind, but her eyes were flinty. Do it, they said, or else we’ll leave you in here to fend for yourself.

  Marcey raised a hand to scratch her cheek. She swallowed the vial in the same motion. This was Shelly’s game, the distraction and the redirect, but with Kat’s twist on it. Kat’s humiliating twist. Kat’s lips twitched. Marcey furrowed her brow and lurched forward. In the years since the one time her mother had forced her to take it after eating a tube of lipstick as a child, she’d forgotten just how unpleasant the sensation was of her entire body revolting against the slippery substance in her throat.

  “Ms. Daniels!” Devon jumped to his feet, his expression serene and his tone panicked, but only just. The histrionics came from Kat as Marcey lost the dinner she’d picked at last night, all over the table. “Officer?” He ran to the door. “Officer, we’re having an…incident. I need you to open the door.”

  The officer came, a different one from the one who’d escorted Marcey up to the interview room. He pushed the door open and took one look at the mess. Kat was supporting Marcey, trying to get her to throw up into the trash can from the corner of the room. It was no good though; it was going everywhere. She cringed, looking up at the officer, her forehead stinging with sweat. “Mr. Austin Jackson just said my bail was posted—urp.” Marcey threw her head forward, this time actually succeeding in getting most of the vomit in the trash can. Kat’s fingers were warm on Marcey’s back, gentle.

  “Fucking hell. Don’t come near me.” The officer took a step back and held out his hand to Devon. “Let me see the documentation. She’s still gotta go to Central Booking.”

  “Apparently Johnson fucked up. She put the paperwork in even though Daniels never made it there. It means we were able to post before Central Booking closed.”

  Kat raised an eyebrow at Marcey. That was a mighty breech of protocol.

  “Does ADA Johnson know?” the officer demanded.

  “She signed off on it too,” Devon answered. “Now, I probably should get Ms. Daniels out of here before she makes an even bigger mess.”

  “I’m going to need to clear it with the DA’s office.”

  “Look,” Devon said. He got up and moved to stand beside the officer. “See here, and here? That’s Johnson’s signature. She signed this authorization herself when she realized that Ms. Daniels couldn’t have possibly done what she’d turned herself in for.”

  “Fine, then. Let me get her things.”

  “I hate you,” Marcey said to her as Devon put his papers back into his bag and settled it across his chest. She tilted her head forward once more and threw up bile. “I hate you so fucking much.”

  The room blurred when Marcey’s things where shoved into her hands and the three of them were shooed back out onto the street. Marcey felt a smug little surge of triumph, as though knowing they’d gotten away with something so daring was somehow vindication. She knew it wasn’t. She knew the whole thing was a mess, but she walked out of there content all the same.

  Kat led them up the street, passing Marcey a bottle of Pepto and a package of makeup remover wipes. Devon hailed them a cab. And then, just like that, they were gone. There was no Marcey sitting waiting for Linda Johnson’s judgment now. There was just the thrill of it all.

  “Where are we going?” Marcey asked. She gulped down a few minty mouthfuls of the Pepto and put it into her purse. Her stomach was still churning, but she was focused enough to push forward now. “I mean, they’re going to start looking for me soon enough.”

  Devon shook his head. “Probably not, actually. Johnson will, sure, but she’ll find that all the paperwork is kosher. She signed it. She’ll have to find a justifiable reason for you to have never made it to Central Booking. And any way she does it’ll make her look bad.”

  Marcey nodded. “So we’ve got
some time there. Has the transaction gone through?”

  Kat flipped her phone over and unlocked it. There was a text from Kim. “See for yourself, Marcey, and watch your empire grow.”

  “There’s no need to be dramatic.” Marcey scowled. She read the e-mail quickly. “So a rendezvous at the storage unit?”

  “Given what we’re up against, it needs to be empty as soon as possible,” Kat said. “And then we’ll figure out how to break the story.”

  “Wouldn’t…”

  “Let’s not talk about her, Marcey, all right?”

  “Why not?” Marcey demanded. “She’s your fucking girlfriend, Kat. If she’s the one pulling the trigger on this, as we agreed, then I need her to buy in like, yesterday.”

  Kat looked down at her fingernails. The cab filled with an uncomfortable silence. Marcey swallowed down another mouthful of bile.

  “She’ll do it,” Kat promised.

  “You don’t sound so certain,” Marcey shot back. “Is she pissed at you because you’re fucking around on her? Because I know I am.”

  “I like you, Marcey. You’re a pretty face, but you’re playing with forces you couldn’t possibly hope to understand. And until you realize just how doomed you are, you’d best let the big girls manipulate the board.”

  “This is my heist, Kat.”

  “Your part is done, Marcey. This is about Wei and me now. How this plays out will determine our future.”

  Devon, beside them, was silent, and the city fell away and rose up and then fell away again, the wave of business transitioning to residential and then back to business. Marcey met Kat’s gaze evenly until Kat looked away.

  CHAPTER 35

  The Walk Away

  Shelly, Gwen, and Kim were already at the unit when Kat and Marcey got there. They lingered outside for a moment while the cabbie sorted out the fare. Marcey pulled on a clean shirt and flicked some sick from her jeans. Devon grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. He’d gotten out of the car with them, but he wasn’t planning on staying. “Don’t stay with Kat tonight,” he hissed.

  “I was going to go to Shelly’s.” Marcey kept her voice low. Kat was on the phone, presumably with Topeté. Marcey wasn’t that keen on overhearing what was being said. Not after the day she’d had. Her stomach lurched. Marcey pulled away from Devon, afraid she was going to be sick again. “Why?”

  “I’ve known Kat Barber a long time, kid. This is the moment when she truly shines. She’ll need the time tonight to make sure that Topeté does what she wants. So stay out of her hair.” Just then, Kat turned and the mid-morning sunlight caught her hair and made it shine the color of straw, warm and welcoming. It reminded Marcey of happier times—Thanksgiving, autumns in full fall colors back in college—and her fingers twitched. She wanted to be free to reach out and touch it, free enough for Kat to say she was more than a pretty face. “She’s using you,” Devon added. “She knows that sleeping with you will make you controllable, like some sort of sick puppy. That’s what she wants. Because you and your plan were never part of her endgame.”

  “Does everyone have to know my fucking business?” Marcey’s lips pitched downward, but then Kat smiled a serene, gentle smile, and Marcey felt herself returning it effortlessly. She was already too far gone. This was a disaster in the making. “I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t about her and Topeté.”

  “You’re in love with her, Marcey. That’s the problem. Shelly’s worried. She sees the signs.”

  “So she sent you, the big scary lawyer, to set me straight? Devon, no offense, but you’re not exactly the most intimidating guy on the planet. Plus, we both know that Charlie owned your ass.” Marcey tilted her head. “What were you in with him for? Don’t you stand to lose if the book ever goes public?”

  Devon opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, his brown eyes almost black and flinty with annoyance. “If you pursue this any further, she’s only going to hurt you.”

  “Devon, I’m not going to. I never planned to. It was never about her like that.” She touched her cheek, the back of her neck, looked down at her feet. Everything seemed ill-fitting. “This is a game. We all have our roles to play. If I needed to set up something that ensured I got the outcome I wanted, then so be it.”

  He didn’t seem convinced. Marcey wondered if her face was giving something away, if she was projecting some emotion that she wasn’t aware she was showing. She was always better than that. Everyone said so. Her poker face was unreadable, even if she made dumb decisions in the process of playing sometimes.

  Marcey tried again. “Look, I get it. It looks bad. All of this looks bad, but I’m not a goddamn idiot, okay? I know that getting in between them was stupid, but it bought me the time and trust I needed from Kat, and it got this job done. We’re all about to get what we want. Why not just let it lie? Why lecture me?”

  “Because you’re still that same kid who sat next to Darius and cried when he got convicted. You’re still that same kid who fell in love with Linda Johnson’s daughter and brought all this hurt upon yourself. You’re human, Marcey. Sex? Manipulation? That’s one thing in theory, but it’s another thing entirely in practice. You’re not that person. I worry about you.”

  Because this is the end and you could never see her again. The thought came unbidden. And it’ll hurt far more than you know. Marcey bit her lip and looked down, away from Devon. “Thanks,” she said, not feeling thankful at all. “I’ll be careful. No feelings, right?”

  “Better to avoid them all together.” He pressed a Zippo lighter into her hands. “Don’t burn it anywhere too exciting, okay? I’ve canceled the contract on this place. So, once you’re out, you’re done here.”

  Marcey nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good luck.”

  He climbed back into the cab just as Kat hung up the phone. The lighter was warm from Devon’s pocket. She flicked it open, and the flame blew out in the wind. Marcey closed the lighter and looked up to meet Kat’s gaze. She shifted, uncomfortable. There was nothing safe about this moment of freedom. “Where are we burning this?” Marcey asked, just as the cab sped away into the busy lunchtime traffic.

  “I was thinking the parking lot across the street.” Kat gestured to the empty lot across the street. “The chain on the fence shouldn’t be an issue. I know how good you are with locks.”

  Marcey’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t meet Kat’s smirking face. She turned and stalked into the storage locker, pushing past the guy at the guard station as it was business hours and there was staff on hand. She didn’t need to sign in.

  The unit was already open when she approached the door. The lighter grew warm in her pocket, warmer still when she caught sight of Shelly and Kim shoving armfuls of paper into a metal wastebasket. Gwen was sitting at the workbench, flipping through notebooks, probably checking for important details they’d missed. There was a pile of things—a deck of cards and a few other mementos—set aside on the workbench. Marcey slipped in and stood next to Gwen, running her fingers over them while Kat lingered in the doorway.

  “Good, you’re all right,” Gwen said.

  “Yeah.” Marcey glanced over her shoulder. “Turns out you were right. Giving Johnson the book would ensure that she was distracted during the time that LePage was trying to get a hold of her while the action was taking place. And Topeté stalled her just long enough. Her face when he finally called back was impressive.”

  “You were with her?” Gwen raised an eyebrow. She ran a hand over her close-cropped hair. “Was she livid?”

  “You have no idea,” Marcey said. “I got grilled for another few hours on the auction after that. I didn’t tell her anything, but I think she thinks I’m involved. She just can’t figure out why I’d give her what she wanted.”

  “Because it’s an obvious fake,” Kat cut in.

  “Kat,” Kim said shortly. “So nice of you to join us.”

  “Things to do, Kimiko, you know how it goes,” Kat replied airily. She swept into the room
, a whirlwind of rolling up her sleeves and depositing her jacket on the workbench. “I do miss this space though. Charlie wrote half his legacy in here. It’s a shame we had to give a fake away without discussing what we were doing.” Her tone was icy.

  The tension in the room was palpable. Marcey took the lead. It had to be her. It couldn’t be anyone else. She ripped down a schematic from the wall and balled it up. “We couldn’t tell you, Kat.”

  “Why not?” Kat’s gaze was starkly accusatory. “We’re all on the same team here, Marcey.”

  “Are we, though?” Marcey asked. “I took your lead on this, I followed you because it got me what I wanted, but what I wanted was not what you wanted, was it? You were perfectly content to let me fumble around your plan without ever telling me the whole thing.” She glared. Kat huffed. “We might all be on the same team here, but at least the others, even your girlfriend, were honest with me about what was happening.”

  All the air left the room. Marcey ripped down the original picture of the ugly painting and balled that up too, throwing it into the trash can. Gwen glanced at her sideways, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead.

  “You’ve spoken to Topeté?” Kat’s voice was breathy with surprise.

  “In New Hampshire.” Marcey nodded. “She was the one who interrogated me, not LePage.”

  “But you said—” Kim gestured to Gwen and then to Shelly. That wasn’t what Marcey had told them. Or even what she wanted to be believed in the end.

  “It wasn’t worth the risk. LePage was a wildcard she couldn’t predict or control. She wanted the book. I told her I’d get it to her if she left me out of things. Guess she couldn’t control Johnson either.”

  Kat’s lips were a thin line. “No, that was her. She put the paperwork in for you last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t you see, Marcey? Honesty wouldn’t kill you.” Kat stalked closer. “Even if we don’t trust each other—”