I pulled out my phone to call an Uber, but when I turned around, Jack was there, leaning against his vehicle, arms folded across his chest.
“I saw his car,” was all he said when I joined him on the sidewalk.
“Her ex was here. She’s never not called me.” I rubbed my chest. “It hurts.”
“Where do you want to go?”
My head was spinning. There was too much going on, too many changes, too many emotions to process. Despite my big speech about people needing people, I desperately wanted to be alone.
“Just take me to my parents’ house. I’ll sneak in the back.”
Seventeen
In heist movies, there’s always a montage of scenes where the caper crew rehearses for the big day. The grease person practices maneuvering through a mock laser beam field made up of string. The driver races through obstacle courses, back alleys, and dark city streets. The hacker pounds on her keyboard, staring at screens full of code. The gadget person demonstrates all their clever toys. The key master practices opening a safe. The muscle finds a few security guards to knock unconscious and wrestles guard dogs to the ground. The inside person seduces or befriends the target and gets them to spill their secrets. And the leader organizes it all with the help of her second-in-command.
At least, that’s the way it works in the movies. In real life, with a bunch of newbs who are scraping by with low-paying jobs, inflexible hours, difficult bosses, and a bunch of side gigs to make ends meet, just organizing a rehearsal heist was one hell of a task. And on top of it all, we had a wedding to plan.
We met at Rose’s house on Saturday morning for the drive to the vacant mansion in Englewood where we were going to do our dry run. Jack had gone ahead in the van to collect the keys from the real estate agent. The rest of us traveled in the limo Emma had borrowed from her friend.
“Chloe got the floor plan off the real estate listing,” I said, trying to balance the plan, my phone, and my list of tasks on my lap while sipping a glass of complimentary champagne. “The layout is similar to the Angelinis’ mansion. Is everyone clear about what they’ll be doing?”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Anil had shown up with my brother’s old drone, a pirate hat, and a velvet jewelry box containing the fake necklace he’d made at work. In response to my query about the hat, he’d simply said, “Dead men tell no tales.”
Gage pulled a weapon from the holster under his jacket and another from his boot. “Lock and load.”
“Put those away,” I snapped. “This is a no-shooting heist.”
“Not even one shot? Just to scare the guards away?”
“No.” I polished off my glass of champagne and poured another.
“What about a Taser?” Emma looked back over her shoulder instead of keeping her eyes on the road.
“Do you have a Taser?”
She cut her gaze to Gage, who was following the conversation with obvious interest. “Maybe.”
“Do I want to know why you have a Taser?” I checked out the champagne supply. It was becoming clear that I would need a substantial amount of alcohol to get through this day.
“I do.” Anil lifted his hand. “I’m a curious beast.”
“Yes, you are, sweetheart.” Chloe patted his knee.
“Do you want the good answer about how a nonlethal legal weapon is always a highly preferred choice for self-protection . . .” Emma asked as she turned off the highway and onto a gravel road. “。 . . or the bad answer about my last boyfriend who was into electric—”
“Oh look!” I cut her off with a shout. “We’re here.”
Jack arrived a few minutes later and parked the van beside us. We practiced the switch from limo to van. Cristian was going to be entertaining the family at the rehearsal dinner, so we got him to time us. Mostly, he just laughed.
“Anil, the idea is to move quickly from the limo to the van,” I said. “You should have the seat belt off well before go time. And no apples. We don’t want to have to deal with the cores or the smell when we’re in close quarters.”
“Safety is important,” Anil said. “What if the limo is hit from behind? I’ll go through the window. My parents spent a fortune on orthodontics to straighten my teeth. Imagine how they’d feel.”
“I’d hope they were more concerned with the damage to your face than the money they spent on your teeth if you went flying through a window,” I said. “Or are they not that kind of people?”
“They’re very frugal,” Anil said. “Two squares of toilet paper for a number one and five squares of toilet paper for a number two.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gage said. “You still call them number one and number two? Man the fuck up.”
Emma stretched out on the floor of the van. “How many for a number three?”
Anil tipped his head to the side, frowning. “What’s a number three?”
“Explosive diarrhea.”
I automatically looked to Chloe to share my silent exasperation but her attention was on Gage. I was happy that she’d finally met someone who lit her up inside, but at the same time I missed our connection.
“Please don’t tell us—” I made a desperate attempt to divert the conversation, but Emma cut me off.
“Los Cabos, 2004. Meatball sub on the way to the airport. I’ll tell you right now . . . bring your own toilet roll when you fly because they don’t have enough.”
“I think in a situation like that, my father would approve the use of a few extra squares,” Anil said.
“Remind me never to come to your place for dinner.” Gage opened the van door. “I’m done with this shit. Let’s get to the fun part and practice breaking into the house. I’m giving up my Saturday golf game for this. Tomorrow would have worked better for my schedule.”
“Chloe and I are meeting Bella and her mom at the bridal shop tomorrow,” I reminded him. “And what schedule are you talking about? I still have no idea what you do during the day. I find it hard to believe you spend it playing golf. You’re not a shorts and polo shirt kind of guy.”
“You’re right about that. Last time I wore shorts was never,” Gage said. “You can’t stop bullets with bare legs.”
Housebreaking was surprisingly easy. Emma stretched out in the back seat for a nap. Cristian pretended to send a text to my burner telling us he had started the party games and had secured the Angelinis’ phones. Chloe tapped on her keyboard and did the mysterious things that would supposedly jam the signal. Jack attached one of the devices Dog had given us to the front door and pressed buttons until the door unlocked.
“I thought the real estate agent left it open,” Anil said.
Jack tucked the device away in his pocket. “I wanted to make sure it worked. Dog’s stuff isn’t always reliable.”
“Are you kidding me?” I grabbed the edges of his leather jacket and pulled him toward me. “Everything hinges on that equipment. If Chloe can’t jam the signal or hack the system, we’ll be sitting ducks for armed guards and Rottweilers.”
“You’re very sexy when you’re riled,” Jack murmured, studying me with hooded eyes. “There’s a guest room on the main floor with a four-poster bed. Maybe we should—”