One
Stella
Pulling in a calming breath, I pressed a palm to my belly, trying to quell the anxiety churning inside before looking down to give my outfit one last glance.
The Target dress and heels weren’t anything special, but it made sense since the last thing I could afford was anything special. But the ensemble would work in a pinch. With the right attitude, hair and makeup, and a few pieces of costume jewelry that looked real from a distance, I could make it look like I belonged, at least for as long as it would take to do what I needed to do.
“In and out,” I whispered under my breath as I stepped in front of the automatic glass doors, jolting just a bit when they slid open, even though I’d been expecting it. You’d think, after so many years of doing this, of being raised to do this, the explosion of butterflies in my belly would have died down by now. But nope. I walked into every grift, every con, full of nerves, no matter how many jobs I pulled, and I’d pulled more than I could keep track of.
My dad always said it was those butterflies that made me the best grifter in the whole family. He claimed it was a sixth sense that kept me from getting caught. Those butterflies kept me on my guard and made it so that I could get a better read on any situation, so I could sense trouble brewing before it happened. At least according to him.
I wasn’t sure how much good that sixth sense did me or anyone else in my family, given the trouble we were currently in. That was why I was here in the first freaking place. My father had gotten sloppy. There hadn’t been much heat on us lately, and it almost felt like we were skating by, undetected. As was the case in every single situation like that, he’d gotten too comfortable and started making some pretty dumb decisions, such as running a con on the wrong people. People who now wanted their money back and had the grit and resources to make that happen in some not so fun ways.
This wasn’t the first time Dad had done something stupid, and like always, I was the one pulled in to help clean up the mess. The fix-it grifter of the family. It wasn’t a title I was fond of carrying, but I had it nonetheless. Guess you could say I was resigned to my fate. Wasn’t like I had much of a choice. They were my family, after all. They could be massive pains in the ass from time to time, but I loved them like crazy, so I was stuck with them.
Pushing the nerves back down and locking them up tight, I pasted on a façade of confidence, wearing it like armor as I lifted my chin and walked into the swanky hotel bar like I owned the place while that couldn’t have possibly been further from the truth.
I headed straight for one of the vacant stools that lined the front of the U-shaped bar without taking in my surroundings. That was grifting 101: never make it obvious you were scoping out the place for potential marks.
The bartender glanced in my direction for a second, lifting a finger to tell me she’d be right over. I gave her a nod and faced forward, using the mirror behind the rows of glass shelves lined with liquor bottles across from me to spy on the different people in the bar so it looked like I was deciding on a drink.
From a cursory glance, it was obvious that there was enough money in this room to take care of my family’s debt and then some. I could lift the expensive diamond bracelet on the wrist of the blonde sitting in the lounge area or the Rolex of the dude currently trying to talk her into going up to his room with him. I could probably snag the wallets of the foursome taking up one of the high-top tables near the window without them even noticing. Then there was the older couple sitting at the leather wingback chairs across the room. The rock on the woman’s finger and the diamonds around her neck and in her ears probably cost more than most normal people made in three months.
We had a family friend who was one of the best fences in the business, he could easily get us a few grand for the watch and bracelet; even more if I was able to snag the ring off the old lady. And there was no telling how much cash those businessmen carried on them. Probably a lot. But I couldn’t be greedy. That was the fastest way to get caught. I could only target one person here tonight, possibly two. Three if I was really lucky and a dude approached, eager to sit close and ply me with drinks if he thought that might help him get some. And I desperately needed to get lucky.
We were running out of time to get the money we owed. Running wasn’t an option, and calling their bluff was out of the question. My father had already made that mistake once, and the hospital bills after they’d beaten him nearly to death to prove their point had seriously cut into our already meager savings—the rest of which had already gone to paying down what we owed the bad guys.
My phone buzzed from inside my small purse, and I shifted my attention from scanning the crowd for marks to pull it out and read the text message that had just come through.
Serenity: Remember not to make that sour, pinchy face you always make. Guys don’t like that. Good luck!!! Love you!!!!!!!
It wasn’t my sister’s overuse of exclamation points that was rubbing me the wrong way in that moment—well, not just that, anyway. It was also the fact that I’d been talked into doing something I’d never been comfortable doing.
My sister had always been better at using her feminine wiles to sucker the poor fools she targeted, something I’d never been all that good at. I was no honeytrap, that was for damn sure. My aunt Trina said my resting bitch face made me come off as unapproachable, and, other than being taken back by my raging bitch of an aunt’s hypocrisy, I hadn’t really minded that it was true.
Making men think I wasn’t all that fussy about who I let near my vagina had always skeeved me out in a major way. Until now, everyone had been more than happy to let Serenity take the lead on the seduction cons, but seeing as we were all on a serious time crunch, I had basically been shoved right out of my comfort zone and straight into the deep end. If I could, I needed to catch the eye of a man, the more expensive-looking the better. But I’d drawn a hard and fast line at doing anything that would require going upstairs with him or taking off a single article of clothing. Serenity could do whatever she wanted, but I’d be staying fully dressed.
I let out a sigh, catching myself before I could roll my eyes, and stuffed my phone back into my purse without bothering to type out a reply, then hung it from the strap on the back of my stool.
I was pulled from the unhappy thoughts about what I was here to do when the man sitting two stools down from me spoke in a disgruntled voice that was loud enough to disturb everyone around him.
“For Christ’s sake. Who do I have to bang around here to get a refill, huh?” I glanced over in the angry man’s direction and saw him shaking the ice in his empty glass aggressively while glaring daggers at the bartender as she hustled to mix three cocktails at one time.
The harried woman was the only person behind the bar that was more than half full of patrons, so a bit of a wait to be served was to be expected, not that this asshole cared.
I’d seen his kind more times than I cared to in my life. The entitled, self-absorbed prick who thought the sun rose and set out of his ass, and he should be handed everything he wanted on a silver platter simply because he existed. “This is absolutely ridiculous. Do you have any clue who I am? I could have you fired like that.” He stressed his point by snapping his fingers.