Mary Jane and Grace made their way around the bar counter and wrapped their arms around the two. They stood like that for a bit. Each one thinking about their dance with the devil in less than 48 hours.
“I remember being off ‘bout that bollocks sign Gio posted. I know I got stroppy with Sam but I don’t know wha’ the ‘ell else happened.” She backed up and looked at her wrists, “How the bloody ‘ell am I supposed to get this off?”
“Rip it. Who knows, you may discover you can save a lot of money on waxing.” Sam turned to make Birdie a fresh cup of tea.
“Right boss. Save that task for later.”
“I guess I’m in deep shit with Gio then? ‘Ave to kiss ‘is arse tonight?”
“Not tonight darling, you’re suspended until next Friday.” Grace peered over her mug as she sipped steaming coffee.
“Wha’? I just got off suspension! One little indiscretion and ‘ees all over me.”
Sam pulled up her camisole to reveal a darkening bruise over the left side of her ribs, “Indiscretion? Shit, Bird, I’d hate to see what you can do when it’s a major slip.”
“Sorry, Sam. I really am. But a week?”
“Oh yeah, and a five-hundred-dollar fine.”
Birdie started breathing through her nose like an angry bull.
“Right.” She waited a few moments until her breathing slowed, “Least it won’t muck up our plan, what with me bein’ outta’ work . . . Bugger Gio!”
“It could be worse,” Sam said looking her in the eye, “You could have chipped one of my teeth.”
CHAPTER 64
Friday came and went. Since Birdie was suspended and Mary Jane had the night off, Sam and Grace decided to take a break too. Anxiety was high. Knowing the club would be exactly the same on Saturday as it had been on Thursday was rational, however, paranoia was setting in. The idea that something vital might transpire in their absence lurked in the recesses of their collective unconscious.
Tanya, who was trying to make every dime she could before her trip to the Far East, was working her last shift at Denny’s before she took off early Saturday morning. It was an unusual hour for the girls to be there, and the place was relatively quiet. Drunks and night owls wouldn’t start filing in for another hour or so.
“Ready?” Sam smiled at Tanya.
“Oh yes, child. Ready as I’ll ever be.” Tanya fingered the manila envelope Sam slid across the table to her.
“I think that’s everything you’ll need.” Sam said, nodding at the sealed paper.
“I’ll send a smoke signal when it’s done.”
“How’s Shug?”
“Fine as frog hair. He’s a little worried, but that old boy is so butch. Holds his cards close to his chest and doesn’t show much emotion, ya know?”
The girls smiled.
“I think he feels better that he’s checked those poor doctors out so thoroughly he knows what they’re kids are named. If they had any secrets he’d a found ‘em.” She gave a girlish smile as she looked down at the steel clasp holding the envelope shut. “Does feel kinda nice that he’s gone to all this trouble for lil’ ol’ me.”
“Sounds like he really loves you, Ms. Tanya,” Grace, a believer in true love, beamed.
“So you’re off to pick up the money, then on to Bangkok?”
Shug had been slowly funneling money into a numbered Swiss account for Tanya’s surgery so he wouldn’t have to explain the discrepancy in his books to his accountant or the IRS.
“Yes, ma'am. Lotta’ flyin’ in the next few days, but luckily I’ll have a bit to get settled in Thailand before the surgery on Wednesday.”
“Do you get to keep it?” Birdie couldn’t get over her fascination with the procedure.
“Birdie!” Mary Jane almost blushed.
“Well?”
“Haven’t asked. I’m working so hard to get rid of it, can’t say as I’d know what to do with it. Encase it in Lucite?”
“Give it to me!” Birdie chortled, “I can start a collection!”
“God bless you, little Bird,” Tanya laughed, “You may be one of the most uncouth people I’ve ever met and I love that about you. I’ll try, but I don’t know how in the world I’d explain it at customs.”
“Do you fancy they’d consider it perishable?” Birdie worked the equation in her mind.
“I think it’d be perishable if it was still attached. It’s perished once they take it off.” Tanya shot back.
They giggled.
“We need to stop this before Grace throws up.” Sam said eyeing her friend who was beginning to turn an odd shade of green.
“Have you talked to Tyrone and Tyrese? How’re they doin’?”
“Havin’ some trouble with one of the girlfriends. Other than that, they’re same as always.”
Tanya propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on the back of her hands to avoid smudging her makeup. Her eyes danced around the interior of the restaurant, then back to the girls.
“Last time I’ll be here as Tommy. Maybe I can get a job with ya’ll when I get back.”
Birdie squealed with excitement, “What a brilliant idea Tanya!”
“Order UP!”
Tanya reached across the table and placed her delicate hand in the center, palm down.
Sam placed her own hand on top of Tanya’s and gave it a squeeze.
Grace, Mary Jane, and Birdie joined the pile.
The five sat for a moment, looking at their joined hands, thinking about the silent oath they were taking.
Tanya slid from her seat and shuffled off to pick up their plates, which were waiting under the warming lamps.
CHAPTER 65
Sam and Grace quietly donned their skimpy uniforms and strapped garters to their legs like pornographic militia readying themselves for battle. Mary Jane sat next to them slowly dragging on her cigarette while watching the preparations. Casual conversation would have been the natural flow of things, but none of the three could think of idle chatter.
Grace made a few attempts to apply her liquid eyeliner before giving up and holding the tube out for Sam to help. Smiling, Sam took the hint, unscrewed the cap and rested her pinkie on Grace’s cheek while she carefully traced the outline of Grace’s lashes.
“So, what do you think Birdie’s up to?” Sam asked.
Mary Jane looked at her momentarily horrified, then fell into step. “Probably getting drunk and then gettin’ some strange.”
“Don’t make me laugh, I’m trying to hold still.” Grace breathed through parted lips. She could feel Sam’s hot breath warming her cheek and the ritual, so familiar, comforted her.
Sam paused, smiling. “And that’s saying something since it doesn’t get much stranger than Birdie.”
Mary Jane exhaled smoke through her nostrils and grinned.
“Stop, you two! I’ll never get my face on. Sam, focus please.” Grace stared at the two under half-mast lids while the liner dried. She pushed a small case with false lashes toward Sam.
“Please?” Grace begged through a tight-lipped smile.
“Last night of Chicken Plucker’s.” Mary Jane studied the burning paper at the end of her cigarette. “Let’s hope the money is good tonight. You know what’s next don’t you?”
Grace glanced at Mary Jane while Sam fiddled with the task of squeezing a thin line of adhesive on the base of the false eyelash strip. “What?”
“Pathologists the first part of the week and Obsessive Compulsives, Wednesday through Saturday.”
“Shit.” Grace looked like the wind had gone out of her sails. She’d been cornered by a particularly morbid pathologist the previous year. His only wish was to talk at length about his work. His wife wouldn’t let him talk about it at home, so he saved up all that death for his yearly trip to Atlanta. Grace made a mint, but she ended up spending half her take on a therapist, just to get her head right.
“Hold still.” Sam held Grace’s face between her pinkies while trying to align the spider-like ma
ss of faux lashes.
“Done.” Sam stepped back to admire her work.
CHAPTER 66
“What aah you doin’ here?” Gio looked up from his paperwork as Grace slipped into the office.
“Nothing.” She dropped her chin slightly, a coquettish grin on her face. “Just brought you a little something to help the time pass.
Grace wore a new set of particularly expensive lingerie. Dressed in black, she looked dangerous. She wore a corset with laces cinched tight and a matching thong. Her legs, wrapped in black silk stockings with a back seam and Cuban heel that traced the path of her curves. Her pedestal, a pair of black, six-inch patent leather mules. A quick spray of golf grip on the bottom of each foot to keep them from sliding in the shoes. A silk ribbon tied at her neck completed her look. She remembered reading that French Courtesans did this to symbolize the separation between mind and body. That worked for her.
Gio straightened himself in his chair and turned his full attention to her. “Well, this is unexpected.” He returned her smile with a sexy charm she’d been careful to avoid until now.
“I know you don’t drink on the job, but I thought you might make an exception just this once?” Grace was always shocked at how effective the batting of eyelashes could be. It seemed so ordinarily predictable but never failed to get the desired result, so she batted.
Holding a shot glass of clear liquid in each hand, she raised the two slightly, careful to make sure her chest was dead center.
Screwing up his mouth as if in thought, Gio leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I s’pose I could make an exception just this once.”
With the same slow gait she used onstage, she circled his desk and came to a stop less than six inches from his arm. Handing him one of the glasses she looked down her long, tan body at him, “It’s Sambuca. Your favorite.”
Mary Jane had prepared the shots. Grace’s glass was water, the other, a shot of Sambuca spiked with a carefully measured dose of Versed. The drug had been purchased by Birdie through her Bettie Page look-alike friend at Fifi Mahoney’s.
Used as an amnesia inducer for surgical procedures, Versed resulted in a conscious, helpful, subject with absolutely no ability to retain memories while under the influence. It was colorless, odorless, and tasteless, making it just the thing for the occasion. They had agonized over the dosage, since administering too much would result in death. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Birdie hadn’t ever asked about specific amounts from her nurse anesthetist customer, who had been the source of so much of their information on the drug. Scouring the Internet for an accurate equation, Birdie had casually checked their findings with another of her customers who was a pharmacist. Grace double-checked it with an anesthesiologist customer. It was frightening how accessible the powerful drug was on the street.
Accepting the glass, he raised it to her. “To new friendships.”
“And what’s to come.” She emphasized the last word and slowly took her shot of water.
Gio tipped his head back and poured the shot down his throat, never losing eye contact with Grace.
She took his glass and stacked the pair on an end table between two armchairs that backed up to the two-way mirrors. Sliding into the chair, Grace spent a moment casually straightening the seam in one of her stockings, pushing her bosom into her knees, nearly spilling out of the corset.
“Thanks for helping us with Birdie two nights ago, Gio.” She looked up at him with heavy lids. “You are so level headed about things. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you to deal with crazy women every night.” She flipped a mass of blonde locks across her shoulder, “I think I’d be gay if I were in your shoes.”
Leaning back in his chair, Gio looked at the ceiling and laughed.
Grace flicked her eyes to the digital clock on his desk. 9:35. Ursula went on at 10:00 sharp. She hoped she hadn’t missed her window of opportunity.
“So how awe you doin’? I hear you just went through a rough break-up?”
Grace sighed and looked at the floor.
“It was over long ago. I can’t tell you how many months it’s been since I’ve had sex, for God’s sake.” Her head stayed low and her eyes rolled up to meet his.
They studied each other for a moment in the silence.
Gio nodded, leveling a look that would have raised her pulse had she not been on a mission.
“I’d like to know more about that,” Gio said, his gaze unfaltering.
Grace lost herself for a moment in the intensity of his blue eyes. Eyes that were still crystal clear.
She’d always seen him as Gio-the-manager, but she could feel herself being sucked in by the intoxication of his undivided attention. She realized why many of the dancers swooned over him. He was definitely attractive. No, he was sexy. He had an undeniable appeal that had eluded her until this moment. He sat quietly, still as stone, staring straight through her.
Rising from her chair, she walked to the switch on the wall and dimmed the lights to a warm glow.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
Gio remained silent, unblinking. The corners of his mouth crept up.
Grace slowly strutted around the office and studied artwork, monitors and the random plant with a casual interest while she filled the time with suggestive comments. Pretending to tell the story of a neglected, lonely stripper with an empty bed. Gio watched her progress.
Finally, turning to Gio after her diatribe about being undersexed and overpaid, she ventured another look into his deep blues. They were no longer clear. His posture was still upright but the eyes had clouded with a lazy look that was curiously innocent.
“Gio?”
“Yeah, Grace?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“I dunno. Nothing, really.”
“Will you open the safe for me?”
CHAPTER 67
Tanya rested her head against the windowpane in first class, watching the countries pass beneath her. She was exhausted.
She’d made the twenty-five hour flight between Atlanta and Bangkok, Thailand two days ago . . . or was it three days. She’d checked into her hotel suite and left instructions not to be disturbed.
A day later she had boarded a flight to Singapore where she opened a bank account. After leaving the bank, she changed into men’s attire, returned to the airport and boarded a Lufthansa flight bound for Zurich, Switzerland. The name on her ticket was Fyodor Il’yavitch Patrushev.
Since Singapore was the new Switzerland of numbered accounts it had been picked as a final resting place for the stolen funds. Opening an account and authorizing the transfer between the Swiss and Singaporean accounts as Fedya, would hopefully be easy.
A beautiful blonde flight attendant leaned across the empty seat next to Tanya, “Can I get you anything Mr. Patrushev?”
Tanya smiled. “Pleez, call me Fedya.”
CHAPTER 68
Galina’s birthday was an extravagant event with as many high-ranking officials as there were children in attendance.
Fedya sat in a slipcovered lawn chair, under the canopy of a side porch attached to the main house. Drawing on his ever-present cigar, he glanced around the party, taking mental snapshots that would tide him over when he was in the U.S., away from his homeland and his family. He felt a flutter somewhere in his gut and wondered if this was what most called love. He liked his wife and daughters just fine, but Fedya loved no one but himself.
Joining him at the table were the current Russian president and several of his cabinet members, Najib, his Afghani associate, Seiji Matsuda, a high-ranking Yakuza boss, and a handful of bank executives who ran his interests in Yekaterinburg and Moscow.
His daughter, Galina, and two of her friends ran by, bundled in warm furs, carrying bottles of colored water with spray nozzles, for making pictures in the deep snow. Fedya smiled, mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. Large heaters had been arranged on the outdoor porches to keep the air at a comfortable seventy degrees. Sheer dr
apery held the cool breeze at bay while the adults relaxed in their simulated summer. The children were happy to play in the mounds of winter white until they collapsed in front of the large fireplace in the living room.
The crowd chatted in hushed grown-up tones. A sweating, twitchy man in thick, wire-rimmed glasses was seated next to Fedya. He pushed an envelope in front of him with trembling fingertips.
Leaning in to whisper, he said in Russian, “All the transfers are complete. The funds have been moved into the Swiss account for you to distribute.”
Fedya chewed his cigar and slowly nodded, placing his hand on the documents.
“Thank you, Mischa.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, this is fine. I’ll make arrangements with Helvetia in the morning.”
He glanced at Najib and Seiji, who were involved in conversations with other guests but kept their eyes on him. Fedya gave them each a short nod and turned his attention back to the festivities.
Fedya had been laundering money through the banks he owned in Russia for some time. He would transfer funds into Swiss accounts and then forward them on to the crime syndicates who were his clients. Some transactions started as gold bullion disguised as ball bearings, some were bogus stock trades, and some were payments to shell companies. The means by which the large payments were justified always changed, but the constant was Fedya’s ability to make transactions virtually untraceable.
A large sum of money had just been processed in Moscow and was now resting safely in several Swiss accounts. Tomorrow, they would be funneled back to their rightful owners, with a portion left untouched – a payment to Fedya for services rendered.
CHAPTER 69
“Okay, kids, settle down and lemme tell you about the special treat we have right here at Atlanta’s best show bar tonight, and only tonight.” The DJ paused for dramatic effect, “The beautiful and amazing Ms. Ursula Amoureuse has agreed to perform her world-renowned fire show.”
Tea Leafing: A Novel Page 21
