2.
Three months had passed since Wesley Winters had been laid to rest and life had, inevitably, continued on without him. And while Albert had no doubt been shaken by the loss of his old friend, it seemed he had bounced back by simply throwing himself into living each moment to the fullest.
No fewer than three marks had already crossed paths with the crew, all expertly roped by the veteran grifter. None of them had in themselves provided a big payday, but they couldn't exactly complain about easy money and the coffers were certainly looking much healthier than they had of late.
And anyway, a fourth target was already in their sights – another one who seemed just the right mix of greedy and sleazy to make the prospect of ridding him of thousands a downright pleasure.
It was almost too easy, Ash thought as he eyed the crowded bar. There was no real need for discretion on his part for a change, as he'd blagged himself a security job in the venue they'd decided was ideally suited to their plans and could move around at will, hiding in plain sight. Not that the others were exactly keeping a low profile either. This was, after all, where they thrived – inserting themselves, chameleon style, into the worlds of their marks so convincingly they could afford to be bold.
"Showtime," the grifter grinned, but only to himself, squaring his shoulders in preparation and reaching into a pocket to touch the small wrap of coke just ripe to be planted.
A casual glance around the dimly lit establishment told him the rest of the crew were in place. Stacie, glamorous as ever, toying with the stem of her cocktail glass by the bar. Mickey, suited and booted, and holding court with the city boys as they blustered and bragged, each probably trying to outdo the others so he could feel better about himself. And Danny… Where was Danny? Ah, eying up the redhead on stage with the acoustic guitar. A little off-piste, but that was Danny for you.
To be fair, the singer was a little stunner with a cracking set of pipes, commanding more attention that the usual run-of-the-mill entertainment in these places, although not all of it entirely welcome by the sound of the occasional lewd catcalls from one particular "gentleman". Besides, their self-designated ladies' man did have a knack for shifting focus back from any distractions in a split second when he had to.
Sure enough, they all seemed to clock their mark making his entrance at exactly the same moment. Meanwhile, even as the last notes of the Stevie Nicks cover faded away, the redhead murmured something about a short break, slipped off her stool and melted into the crowd. Danny's attention snapped back to the job in hand.
"Like a bleedin' goldfish, that boy," Ash sighed, although he had to admit no distraction ever seemed to fully obstruct his colleague's ability to get the job done. Not that he'd tell him that, he didn't need the encouragement.
It seemed not everyone was so easily deterred though.
Already starting to head from his position, Ash's eyes narrowed as he tracked the drunk behind the catcalls. The departing singer seemed to be doing a decent job of ignoring him and instead heading without a second glance for a door marked "private" and "staff only".
But, with the baffled, yet offended look of a man ill-accustomed to being given the brush-off, her unwanted admirer swayed where he was for only a second and then, with a sly check behind him, lurched after her.
"Ah shit," Ash muttered, realising he appeared to be the only one who'd noticed and technically he was supposed to be security…
A feeling in his gut told him no good could come of what he'd just witnessed. He'd come up against plenty of blokes like him. Entitled, not used to being told no, emboldened by booze.
And now their mark was on the move too. Fan-bloody-tastic.
He could feel Mickey's eyes boring into him in silent question as to where the hell the signal was to kick the next phase of their plan into action. Stacie was playing it ice cool as always, but there was a question in that raised eyebrow, and Danny was starting to fidget as was his wont when the pace didn't pick up as he thought it ought to. Which was often.
"Problem?" came Mickey's to-the-point voice in his ear, via the earpiece that also added to his disguise, such as it was.
Ash weighed it up before replaying, shifting course to head for that door. "Problem."
Acutely aware he'd just thrown their own plans in chaos, Ash's mind was trying to race three steps ahead as he pushed through the door and into the dark, narrow corridor beyond. He couldn't in good conscience leave it. He knew all too well what entitled pricks were capable of when they wanted something, he'd had dealings with enough of them over the years.
He wasn't particularly worried for himself either. Between serving time and having to be prepared for whatever trouble a grift might land them in, he knew he could handle himself. The civilian caught up in the middle of all this though, through no fault of her own – other than having the nerve to be an attractive woman in a public place? She didn't deserve this kind of hassle.
Various sets of stairs and doors led off the corridor in all directions, but the fire escape at the end left open just a crack drew his attention, even before the muffled grunts and sounds of a struggle. Grim-faced at the thought of what he might find, although with one small question mark as to whether he had perhaps totally misread the situation and was about to provide a most unwelcome intrusion, he inwardly debated whether stealth or brute force was the way to go.
He was meant to be a bouncer, for Christ's sake. He decided on the latter.
Sending the door crashing back on its hinges, he strode into the alleyway ready for confrontation, only to nearly trip over the writhing figure on the ground.
The singer's drunken would-be suitor was rolling around in apparent agony, trying to clutch both his face and groin and howling something indecipherable about his eyes as the apparent object of his unwanted attention stood over him, trembling but clearly furious.
"Oh good, security. This handsy arsehole seems to have mistaken the place for some kind of knocking shop," she seethed, having spared only a fleeting glance at the newcomer on the scene. "You're not on holiday in the red-light district now, pal."
Ash glanced from the pepper spray cannister in her hand, to the rumpled bob now ever so slightly askew in a way that could only mean one thing. His eyes first narrowed as he scrutinised her and then widened when she finally met his gaze, still trying to get her breath back.
"You!"
"Well? Aren't you going to - wait, Ash?!"
Few things ever really threw him, but this he hadn't seen coming and her shock mirrored his own.
Skylar Winters, in a red wig and skintight dress, staring at him wide-eyed.
"Didn't know you could sing," he managed lamely.
Approaching footsteps and voices spurred them into action, Ash quickly deciding the inevitable questions were far too much hassle at this stage in the evening.
The closer anyone looked into his role, the more likely it was they'd soon discover he wasn't actually on the payroll at all and then the shit really would hit the fan. The actual head of security was a thug he doubted would take kindly to having the wool pulled over his eyes.
"This is assault – that little slut's blinded me! Help!" came the anguished yell from the ground, almost certainly loud enough to draw attention.
"No time for pleasantries," Ash said, stepping over the still wailing figure and nodding to Skylar. "Let's get gone."
"You filthy bitch!" the suit spat, trying to lurch to his feet, his feelings towards the former object of his unwanted attention having clearly soured in the last few minutes. His eyes were still closed against the stinging and the surrounding skin was already turning red and inflamed.
Ash had zero sympathy for him. Less when he made a sudden grab for Skylar, only to find himself slammed back against the rough brickwork by the grim-faced grifter.
The "oof" as the wind was knocked out of him morphed into a whine over the thud of the back of his head against the unforgiving wall. It trailed off though when the arm across his throat pinned him a little tighter and a stern glare met his watery eyes.
"You flash gits are all the same. All money and no manners," Ash scowled, although a glance towards the door told him the window of opportunity for a clean getaway was in danger of slamming shut any second. "Between you and me, son, you wanna count yourself lucky. She shoulda kicked your balls into your throat."
"I did try," Skylar supplied.
Fair enough.
"Who's out here?" came a shout. "This area's out of bounds…"
"Then I guess we shouldn't be here," Ash said to Skylar, letting the other man slump to the ground before swiftly grabbing her hand. "Time to move!"
Conscious he was making her trot along on impractical heels to keep up as they legged it, he decided it couldn't be helped and led the way down the cobbled alley and along a few random side streets to shake any tail they may have picked up, tugging free the earpiece with his free hand as he did so and fishing for his phone instead.
"Mick? Yeah, sorry, mate, something came up…" he said, his call having been answered on the second ring. "I know, I know… Couldn't be helped. I'll explain back at base. Later."
"You were on a job…" Skylar said, no question in her voice, only apology.
"Don't worry about that," Ash shrugged, deftly loosening his tie and nodding in his intended direction as he led them round another corner before slowing to a brisk walk and then an amble, a plan formulating on the fly. "Casual now."
At his sole prompt, he was impressed that she seemed to catch on quick, straightening her hair and accepting the jacket he shrugged off tossed around her shoulders. She slipped an arm through his as if they were any other couple staying in the elegant hotel he had spotted just ahead.
Rather than heading inside, blagging their way into someone else's flash booked car was a piece of piss and Ash grinned as he held the door open to let his unexpected companion. She slid across the plush backseat, making room for him to follow.
"Not here," he cautioned, putting any explanations as to how they'd found themselves flung together on ice. Instead, he leaned forward to give the waiting driver an address just around the corner from the building where the crew had set themselves up in yet another commandeered apartment.
When he sank back against the leather, he had more than enough experience at dealing with the unexpected to avoid flinching at the hand on his knee, but he did give Skylar a questioning look that only brought her closer to his side.
"Too much, we leave an impression," she whispered in his ear, apparently – given the coy glance at the driver in his rear-view mirror – under the guise of familiar intimacy. "Too little, he remembers the couple with trouble in paradise."
Ash smiled and shook his head as if indulging his companion, shifting to settle an arm around her shoulders. "You sure you ain't a grifter?" he murmured into her hair.
"Here, get that down ya."
With Skylar settled on the sofa in the crew's plush penthouse apartment, her heels kicked off and the wig discarded on the coffee table, her own blonde hair freed if somewhat rumpled, Ash handed her a steaming mug of tea and then, after a second's deliberation, chose the armchair to settle in.
The blunt red bob was sexy, but her own look was better, he decided, before wondering where the hell that thought had come from. Must be spending too much time hanging around Danny. That was probably it.
"So… I gotta ask, what's with the get-up?" he said finally.
"It's not a con, if that's what you're thinking," she said, with a small smile. "Just… an act. Stage persona, that sort of thing."
"So this is what you do? Singing?"
"Gotta do something to pay the bills."
"I didn't mean… You're good. Too bloody good to be slumming it in bars, even the posh ones."
"Think I missed my big shot," she said wryly, trying to keep it light, but he couldn't miss the downcast look that flickered across her face even if it was just for a second. "You don't want to hear my life story."
"Why not?" he countered, sipping his own tea. "Looks to me like it might be nearly as eventful as your old man's."
"Music was all I wanted to do," Skylar sighed, relenting under his enquiring gaze. "Even as a kid. I took piano lessons, singing lessons, taught myself guitar. My parents didn't mind at first. I think they thought it was a phase or something. Just a hobby. Something to get bored of. Or put on the university applications – applications for something more… dependable. But I just knew that was what I wanted to do. And they couldn't see it. Wanted me to study something… solid. Something with proper prospects."
"But you didn't give up," he smiled.
"Oh, no, I absolutely did," she shrugged. "What can I say, they wore me down. Hey, I know they meant well. I mean, how many people actually make it in the music industry? And we didn't move in those sorts of circles. This is going to sound nuts, but I suppose I should say I had no idea who my dad really was growing up. Oh, he was in my life, I don't mean it like that. I just… didn't know he was a grifter. Looking back, I'm not sure what I thought he did. Just business, I guess."
"Some grifters keep work and family separate," Ash acknowledged. "Tough way to live though."
"I can see it like that now," Skylar nodded. "With a lot of time, a lot of growing up. But back when I first found out? I was furious I'd been kept in the dark like that. I felt pretty stupid not to have seen it. I'd gone to law school to please them, for god's sake. Although with hindsight, that was always more mum's wish than dad's. Still felt like the joke was on me."
"Hold on, law school?"
"Mm-hmm, you're looking at a fully qualified solicitor."
"Well, aren't you just full of surprises," he noted, getting a ghost of a smile in return.
"Nearly dropped out when I found out about dad – I suppose I felt humiliated, studying to be a lawyer and it turns out my own dad's a conman. I turned into a proper brat, refused to take a penny more of his money knowing how he'd earned it…" she trailed off, obviously pained by the memory, but shaking it off. "Anyway, yeah, I ended up doubling down, all the more determined not to follow in his footsteps. Over the years, I let dad explain, we learned to live with our differences, rebuilt our relationship… Then years later, he's all over the news and that was that. Turns out rumours were one thing, but a murder rap in the family isn't the kind of baggage clients want for their legal representation. It didn't leave me with a whole lot of choices in the end."
"Shit, sorry," Ash sympathised. "That's rough. I mean, even if your dad had… you know. Hardly your fault, is it?"
Skylar shrugged, taking a long sip of tea, her hands wrapped around the mug. "That's why I went back to the only other thing I know how to do. Even thought I was getting somewhere. Had a manager, cut an EP… Didn't work out though. But enough of my sob stories. What did I get in the way of tonight? Anything exciting?"
Ash knew when he was being fobbed off and suspected there was more to the semi-failed music career story than she was letting on, but after the night she'd had, he was tactful enough to let it slide.
"Ah, nothing we can't salvage for another day," he said easily, although not entirely sure Mickey would see it that way. "Besides, turned out you didn't need anyone wading in, did ya? Proper laid that prick out. Bet you didn't learn that at law school."
"You'd be surprised."
"So lemme get this straight, you blew our whole operation to rescue a damsel in distress who didn't actually need rescuing? Ash, me old son, tell me she was at least fit," Danny lamented, ignoring the disapproving looks he was getting from both Stacie and Albert.
"Look, I'll hold me hands up," Ash explained to the collected crew. "Maybe I should have kept my nose out and, yeah, she probably had it handled, but what's done is done. And it turned out to be Wes Winters' daughter, so I'm just glad it didn't get any messier than it already was – she's been through enough."
"Skylar?" Albert noted in concern. "Poor girl. And you're sure she's okay?"
"Did she mention me at all?" Danny asked, eyebrows raised in expectation.
"Bit more shook up than she was ever going to admit, I think," Ash said, directing his response to Albert, although a little distracted as he picked up his suit jacket and rummaged through the pockets. "We can make the same set-up work again – we just need a different bar where the mark…"
"Ash, something wrong?" Mickey asked.
"Uh, no, nothing," he covered. "Just thinking ahead. I'll sound out options since I blew tonight."
"Okay," their leader nodded slowly, not quite looking convinced. "I'll leave it with you."
Retrieving his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Ash excused himself and stepped out onto the balcony, lighting up and taking a deep drag before tilting his head back with a groan as he stared unseeingly up at the star-filled sky.
Shit.
He'd definitely had it in the bar, right trouser pocket for ease of slight of hand, but switched to left jacket pocket as he'd changed course and headed for that door. Couldn't risk it falling out at an in opportune moment. But now, that tiny wrap of coke with a key role in their con was definitely gone.
In itself, it was no big deal. A replaceable means to an end, no more and no less. But only one other person had easy access to his jacket since then and therein lay the problem.
Skylar.
