To Have and to Heist(46)

“I’m a fair man,” he said. “Do well and you’ll be rewarded. Fail and—”

“So serious.” Simone laughed lightly and tapped his hand, gesturing for him to release me. “I’m sure Simi will do a wonderful job.”

“Saturday. Noon. My assistant will send you the address.” He looked over at his daughter. “That’s how you get things done. You’ve got a new wedding planner. You got your elephant. There is no reason now why the wedding can’t go ahead.”

“Yes, Papa,” she said quietly.

“How did I do?” I whispered to Simone after they walked away.

“Dahling.” Simone gave me a squeeze. “You’re fucked.”

Thirteen

I closed the door to Rose’s garage and looked around at my crew. I still couldn’t believe everyone except Jack had shown up on a Friday night. It was no big deal for me to be here—my Friday nights were usually spent watching crime shows with Rose or kicking back with Chloe and Olivia—but I’d assumed everyone else would have had plans.

“Thank you for attending this emergency meeting,” I said. “I’m sure you all have better things to do with your Friday night.” I used a red marker to write our company name on my new whiteboard. “Our new business is up and running. We are now officially Simply Elegant Events. Chloe will be handing out packets of business cards. You can use the QR code to check out our website and familiarize yourself with what we do.”

“What do we do?” Anil asked.

“We organize events—in particular, weddings—and in this case, the wedding of Bella Angelini. I spoke to her dad last night and we cut a deal. We are now her official wedding planners.”

“Cut is right,” Gage muttered. “You piss him off and you’re gonna lose a limb or two.”

“I could do without the negativity.”

Chloe patted my arm. “Don’t mind him. He’s been grumpy since he got here. I don’t think he’s been sleeping well.”

“How would you know? He hardly ever talks.”

“Just a feeling.”

“What kind of deal?” Cristian asked. He was dressed in his uniform of cargo pants, pastel shirt, Sperrys, and a backward ball cap. As usual, he looked like he’d just stepped off a fashion runway.

“He’s going to pay us two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to organize his daughter’s wedding.”

Cristian whistled. “Fuck me.”

“I thought no one fucked you unless they paid,” Emma quipped.

“Fuck you.” Cristian dropped his feet and sat up like he was about to start a fight, which I knew would never happen because he was anti-violence as well as being anti-everything-else.

“How about no one fucks anyone and we listen to Simi’s plan.” Chloe shot me a worried glance. “You do have a plan.”

“Yes. I have a plan.” I wrote four headings on the whiteboard. “Tomorrow we’re going to the Angelinis’ mansion to meet with the bride. I’ll introduce you as my team. Everyone will have a different wedding-related job that will give you access to an area of the house that needs to be searched or a system that we need to understand to pull off the heist.”

“What do you mean by ‘job’？” Anil asked.

“We do actually have to step in to save the wedding,” Chloe said. “That’s what the money is for.”

“I don’t know about the work part.” Cristian sat back in his chair. “I was down for a quick snatch and grab but—”

“This is how we’re doing it,” I told him. “If you don’t like it, you can leave. That just means an extra . . .” I trailed off because math had never been my strong suit. Luckily, Anil jumped in for the save.

“We would each get $833,333.33 plus $41,666.67 for the wedding planning fee, for a total of $875,000 per person.”

“Did you just do all that math in your head?” Emma asked.

“Numbers make more sense to me than people.”

“Damn, dude,” she said. “That’s impressive. We should give you Cristian’s share just for working all that out.”

“I didn’t say I was leaving,” Cristian protested. “I’m still in.”

I was disappointed to hear it. I still didn’t trust Cristian, especially not after he’d blackmailed his way into the heist. Nothing about him screamed loyal, reliable, or valuable member of the crew. “You can handle—”

“Schmoozing and keeping the mama bears occupied while they suffer through the existential angst of realizing no one will ever look at them the way everyone is looking at the young twenty-somethings in their strapless dresses and stiletto heels?” Cristian offered. “I’m in.”

“Um. No. I thought you could manage the catering staff—snacks for the bridal party while they get ready, chocolate strawberries and nibbles while pictures are being taken, the banquet, the late supper . . .”

“Food?” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s not an important job.”

“Italian weddings are all about the food,” I said. “I went to an Italian wedding that had a fourteen-course meal, followed by cake, a mobile espresso cart, pastries, a candy buffet, and then, just before midnight, they served a second meal.”