Francine looked down at her boots, stuck the right one out to admire the soft leather and smirked at Zyah. “They’re so comfortable too. I love everything Jimmy Choooo.” She drew out the last name and then tossed her head laughing, bringing deliberate attention to her earrings and necklace.
Zyah’s gaze was immediately riveted to the glittering star at Francine’s throat. It was an amazing blue diamond and very, very real, as were the stars at her ears. That was part of Lizz’s galaxy collection. Anat had told her about it and spoken of it in low tones, afraid of being overheard. What was Francine doing wearing a piece like that in public when there were known robbers preying on the elderly? Was she so selfish she would risk her grandmother to show off? Zyah was beginning to fear she would.
“You’re wearing your grandmother’s blue diamonds. I thought she kept those locked up in a safe at the bank.”
Francine stuck her hip out. “I talked her into letting me wear them to the charity ball next month. I told her I had to try a couple of pieces with different outfits to see what would go best. It’s such a shame to have such beautiful jewelry and then keep it in a vault somewhere and never even see it.”
Zyah lowered her voice and looked around, although she knew the store was empty. She just wanted Francine to think she was entering into some kind of conspiracy with her. “Aren’t you afraid those thieves might target you and your grandmother?”
Francine scowled. “I have a gun. I always carry a gun. Do you want to see it? You would never suspect I have one on me.” Her body swayed, and she gripped the edge of the counter to keep from falling. Before Zyah could answer, she leaned closer, giggling. “You should carry a gun, Zyah. Someday you’re going to need it.” That made her laugh hysterically. She pulled her shirt up to show the tight band around her waist that had the gun holster with the gun fitted to her. “If anyone tries to take me in, I’ll just shoot ’em.”
“You mean rob you? Or your grandmother? Have you been worried they might? You haven’t seen strangers hanging around your house, have you?” Zyah asked, suddenly feeling anxious. Francine wasn’t making a lot of sense, but then she’d clearly had too much to drink. “Is that thing loaded?” Zyah glanced at the security camera. It made her feel a lot safer to know that there were two Torpedo Ink club members in the back. Someone was always watching.
“Of course.” Francine dropped her shirt back into place, shook her head and then laid a finger across her lips, then looked around and beckoned Zyah closer. She waited until Zyah leaned across the counter. “I keep my grandmother safe. No worries about her. She might be an old bat sometimes, but I take care of her.” There was love in her voice. “She takes care of me. No one is going to hurt her.”
Zyah sighed. There was no way she was going to get to go home and take a hot bath and soak in the tub. She was going to have to go to dinner with Francine and make certain she didn’t drive Lizz’s precious Cadillac. She’d definitely had too much to drink. Zyah pulled out her cell phone and texted Player to arrange for someone to get Lizz’s car and take it back to her. She would hate to have it left out all night sitting in front of the grocery store.
She found it strange that the first person she would turn to for help was Player, when Keys and Destroyer were in the back room, probably watching on the monitor.
“I think you should teach me to dance, Zyah.” Francine began to undulate her body. “If I learned to belly dance, I could be beautiful and sexy like you. Then I wouldn’t have to be such a whore.” She giggled again.
Zyah froze. She was barefoot as usual and, although Francine had had too much to drink, she was still blurting out the truth as she saw it. “You are beautiful and sexy, Francine.”
Francine shook her head. “No, I’m not. Not like you. My mother told me. She said, ‘Francine, you’ll never be like her. You might as well face it. You’ll never be beautiful or sexy. You were an ugly baby, an ugly child and you’re ugly now. Be a whore and go after the money. Men are lying, cheating bastards anyway.’”
Every word was whispered, but Zyah felt as if they’d been carved deep into Francine’s skin. Branded into her bones. What kind of mother would say those things to a child?
“Francine, that isn’t true at all. Look at you. You’re so beautiful. I don’t have a clue how to wear makeup. I used to try to copy you all the time. And you have great fashion sense. I never could find the right clothes to suit me. I gave up a long time ago. When we were kids, my grandmother would always comment on what a beautiful child you were.”
“She did?” Francine’s voice wavered.
“Ask her. I heard it all the time. And it was true. I was always chubby and had to fight my weight. You were like this beautiful little doll. I can’t imagine why your mother told you that, but it wasn’t the truth. Surely Lizz tells you how gorgeous you really are.”
Zyah poured sincerity into her voice. Francine had been a beautiful child. She’d gotten hard as an adult, and she drank far too much. The constant alcohol was beginning to show on her, but there was no question that she was beautiful.
“It would be fun to go to dinner with you, Francine. Thanks for asking. I’ll just let Player know. He’s with my grandmother right now. I’ll ask him to stay with her until I get back.”
Francine frowned, tried to straighten and wobbled for a moment and then caught herself, waving her hand dismissively. “Why would Player be with your grandmother?”
Zyah winced at the belligerence in her tone. Francine had wanted to be with a member of Torpedo Ink. She was a naturally jealous woman, and she would want what she thought Zyah had. All the points Zyah had made with her were lost that quickly. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that Torpedo Ink was looking out for Anat while she worked, or that they were there at night.
“We were going to go out tonight,” she said. “I just texted him and said I wanted to go to dinner with you.” She hoped that would be enough to placate Francine.
“Invite him to come with us,” Francine said. “There’s no reason for him to be bored out of his mind staying with an old lady who will just talk his ear off when he could be with the two of us. We can go to Alena’s restaurant. He’d love to be with us; you know he would. Men like Player take on two women at once.”
She leaned on the counter with both elbows and deliberately stared straight into Zyah’s eyes. “Have you ever done that? Been with a woman and a man? Or been with two men? I’ll bet Player’s shared a woman. And I’ll bet he’s had more than two women plenty of times. Ask him. I dare you. Text him right now and ask him. Ask him if he wants to party with the both of us tonight. We can go to his clubhouse.”
Francine’s face took on a greedy, almost obscene look of grasping glee. “You know how he got his name, right? Player? Did he ever tell you? Because I know how he did. Heidi told me. He took a bet one night from the others that he could do fifty women and they’d all call him back wanting more. They made the mistake of not making a rule that it had to be one woman at a time. He’s that damn good, but you already know that, don’t you?” She licked her lips, her eyes bright. “Come on, Zyah, you must have shared before. If you haven’t, there’s no hope in hell of keeping a man like that.”