They returned to Sophie's apartment several short hours later, an excessive amount of bags in hand. They dumped them on the couch before Sophie pulled the suit she had bought Abigail out of its bag. She tossed the grey skirt and suit jacket across the room and the teenager, after catching it with ease, pulled it off the hanger.
"Shall we change?" Sophie invited.
"Sure," Abby smiled then walked into her room to change. The skirt wrapped tightly around her hips and brushed just above her knees. A white blouse was tucked under a thin black belt and, after flicking her body around and checking the fit in the mirror in front of her, she nodded at herself and pulled on the matching jacket. She buttoned it up, frowned, and then unhitched it, letting it flow around her hips. She swooped her hair up into a ponytail and walked out the door.
"Sophie, do you have shoes I can borrow?"
The grifter was standing in the mirror in the foyer holding to sets of earrings up to both years, unsure of what suited best.
"Third cupboard on the left," she replied, pointing Abby into her bedroom. Abby pranced off and pulled a pair of black pumps from her wardrobe, then hopped back out as she struggled to pull them on her feet. "Which earrings say 'rich but not quite so classy'?" She turned so Abby could see her both ears. Abby stared at the set of long diamond hoops and small dainty pearls, then contemplated which matched the sleek hair and extensions and her cream coloured dress.
"I say the diamond ones." Sophie turned back to the mirror, checked her suggestion, then nodded and put them on.
"So now what's the plan?" Abby asked, sitting down on the arm of the couch.
"I dunno. You tell me."
Abby let out a huff and furrowed her brow. "What is it with you wanting me to plan this?"
"Because you can," she explained briefly. "Just think about it logically."
"What's to think about? You go in, sell him the jewels then expose him as a fake," she rattled off as Sophie sat down on the couch. Abby lifted her legs up and spun her feet around so they were now resting on the seat cushion rather than the floor. That was until the grifter frowned and brushed her feet off the seat. The teenager did so begrudgingly and slid into the gap between Sophie and the arm.
"Right, but for him to buy the jewels and then resell them with absolute certainty he-"
"Needs to believe that you're the real deal, so he believes the diamonds are the real deal," Abby finished off for her. It was a simple enough plan when you thought about it, but Abby sensed Sophie had more to tell, as she often did.
"He needs to believe the story we sell is real," Sophie elaborated, confirming the teen's suspicions.
"And what story would that be?"
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Sophie scanned the room with eagle eyes as she weighed a glass of bubbling champagne in her hand. The expensive, affluent air that she carried matched everyone in the room but, like she always could when she needed to, she stood out. Abby, waiting more or less patiently in the car, penned it down to her charm, how she carried herself and something uniquely Sophie.
"Have you spotted him yet?" the teen asked with her bare feet leaning up on the dashboard. Their lack of Hardison and electronic equipment had left Abby with no visuals and she was relying on Sophie for information.
The grifter took a sip of her champagne and tilted her head to get a better view of the other room. "Mhm," she confirmed. "I'm going up to talk to him now. Are you ready with the phone?"
Abby held her phone up to nobody. "Ready as anything."
"Good," Sophie declared walking up to the short, pudgy balding man in a three-piece suit with a pink shirt. He was swinging back and forth on his feet, laughing with a group of people Sophie assumed were some minor acquaintances; he looked uncomfortable and glanced awkwardly from side to side as he laughed, looking for approval and recognition.
"Mr Grant," Sophie smiled, strengthening her British accent, then looked down briefly at her shoes. "My name is Annabelle Carrington, I was wondering if I could have a word with you about," she flicked her eyes about and lowered her voice, "a sale you might be interested in."
Through lack of stimulating conversation, the crowd dissipated.
"What can I help you with?" He scanned Sophie's curves and looked up at her lusciously.
"I have some pieces to sell, very exclusive but also, very under the table," she explained, lowering her voice seductively and stroking her champagne flute with her thumb. It was purposefully evocative and extremely effective. For the most part.
"I'm, uh, sorry, Mrs Carrington," he apologies, bowing his head and doing his best not to make eye contact as he searched the room for someone to mingle with. "It's not my business to do that sort of business with strangers.
"Please Mr Grant, you're my last hope," she pleaded, lightly grabbing his forearm as he tried to walk away. She stepped a little closer so she was nearly whispering in his ear. "Plus, what I have to sell is very rare and very, very," she paused and lowered her voice once more. Her alluring tone drew him in closer, "exciting."
He lingered for a moment then pulled away. "I, I'm sorry I really can't." He turned his back and walked away.
"Russian jewels," she spoke clearly and with a degree of importance. Grant jolted to a halt at the news, clearly intrigued. But the fact that he didn't turn around showed he was still hesitant. "A friend of mine has already sold through you if that helps?" She craned her neck so she could see his face a little better. His weight shifted but still he did not move.
Sophie let out an audible sigh and opened up her purse. She pulled out a business card and shut the clutch with a commanding snap. Her heels clacked as she walked up to face the mark and handed him her card.
"If you decide to help out, here's my card." He stared at her name and number as Sophie walked sauntered away, sipping back the last of her champagne and placing it on an unsuspecting waitress' tray as she did. "You're up Abby," she declared, slipping back into her standard tongue.
Back in the car, Abby fumbled for her phone which she had been spinning with her hands. "Got it," she replied then clicked the predialed number, flicked her hair back and sat up straight as though the posture helped her snap into character.
It only rang twice before it was picked up by a woman with a British accent that contained soft hints of Russian. "This is Ellen." The soft humming of violins hung in the background. The same sounds could be heard from Sophie's earbud.
"Yes, my name Jennifer Cook," said Abigail, her voice clean and crisp. "I've heard through the grapevine that someone is trying to sell some Russian… artefacts."
"Go on," Ellen exclaimed, she seemed intrigued and, with her heels clacking, she walked over towards Grant, her boss.
"Now I'm not going to beat around the bush, we both have business to attend to I'm sure, so I'm going to be very clear," she paused for dramatic effect, "I want what they're selling and I will do anything I can to get it. So back off."
"Excuse me?" Any little cordiality that had originally been in her voice had now dissipated.
"You heard me," Abby too dropped the civility from her voice so it was commanding. "I want those jewels miss," she heard Ellen gasp at the patronising title, "don't get in my way." She hung up almost instantly arched her back to release the character. Then, with a deep breath, she settled down and turned her attention to Sophie.
"How was that?"
"Perfect," she praised, unpinning her hair as a grey haired gentlemen held the front door open for her. She only gave him the slightest recognition.
"So the story you sold was to make him not feel guilty from buying from you, and the story I sold was to put on the pressure and push them into buying it?" she confirmed.
"Yup, time pressure, just like your car salesman or realtors," Sophie confirmed. She had explained briefly her reasoning before, but everything was still a little over her head.
"How long do you think before he calls?"
Sophie had reached the car and snapped open the door, startling the teenager.
"Not long I should think," she declared just as, almost fortuitously, her phone rang. She smiled proudly at Abigail, then brought the cell close to her ear. "Annabelle Carrington." The name rolled off her tongue as though it had been hers her entire life. Selling the rest of the con was as effortless as selling them her name.
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So after a moderate hiatus, I'm back!
not much else to say, other than hello and thankyou for your patience!
xx A Lyrical dreamer