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Chapter Thirteen

–––

The Dark Past

Las Vegas, Nevada

“Well, this is just so lovely.” My mom delicately wiped her mouth with the corner of her napkin. “Such a treat running into you girls!”

I suppressed the urge to gag, instead picking moodily at my croissant. No sooner had I agreed to coffee than my mother basically dragged us to a café at the far end of the casino, gushing about how it served the best croissants outside of Paris.

I knew for a fact that it would be a miracle if my parents had managed to visit Paris in the past decade, and they’d definitely never been before that. My mom was really playing up her “wealthy Midwestern lady” character; if I hadn’t known better, even I might’ve been convinced. Kat just sat there nodding. (As always, it was nearly impossible to get a word in edgewise with my mother.)

Still, the croissant was pretty damn good. I polished mine off and took another gulp of coffee, then checked my watch. I could stand about five more minutes of this before it became impossible to suppress the primal scream burbling in my gut. My dad just sat there grinning like an idiot, which was his usual role in their scams; he played the quiet guy who just seemed so gosh-darned normal. You’d never suspect that while my mom was distracting you, he’d snagged your watch and wallet. Which was why I kept an eye on my wrist; no way was he walking off with my Rolex.

Meanwhile, Kat was lapping up everything they were serving. “Tell me more about what Amber was like growing up.”

“Amber?” My mom’s eyes slid across to me. I threw her a warning look but needn’t have bothered. My mom was too much of a pro to screw up someone else’s alias. “Oh, you know Amber. She was always a firecracker. But how about you? A real live baroness!” My mom clapped her hands together.

That’s what they must think, I suddenly realized. Between the fake name, my nice clothes, and Kat’s clearly impressive background, of course my parents would assume that she was my latest mark. As my mother prattled on, I could practically see her mentally tallying up what I could squeeze out of Kat.

The thought made me sick. And yet, I knew how easy it was to fall back into pulling cons. After all, I’d been forced to do it myself just a few months ago. I frowned, a feeling of dread blossoming in my stomach.

“Well, the title does not really mean much these days,” Kat said modestly.

“But still!” The sinking sensation in my gut worsened at the familiar glimmer in my mother’s eyes. Shit. This was a mistake. I should have dragged Kat away from them when I had the chance. My mom leaned forward and put her chin in her hands, saying, “Tell me all about it!”

As Kat launched into her family history, which apparently went back far enough that they qualified as “primeval nobility” (I’d googled it), I kicked my mother under the table. Her lips tightened, but other than that she didn’t react. I tried for my dad next, but he anticipated the move and shifted his feet away so I encountered nothing but air.

Glowering, I finished my coffee and pushed back my chair. “Well, this really has been something. But we’ve gotta go.”

Following my cue, Kat stood and said, “So lovely meeting you both.”

Through tight lips, my mother said, “Oh, that’s such a shame! I was really hoping to hear more.”

“Yeah, well, guess we timed this one wrong.” Unable to resist, I dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and added, “This is on me. Just paying you back.”

I grabbed Kat’s hand and prepared to make a break for it, only to nearly crash into Grace, who was standing silently behind me. Because of course she was.

“Hello again!” Kat said, looking delighted. “We just keep running into people today!”

Grace cocked her eyebrow in a way that I was all too familiar with and said, “It’s not a coincidence. I deliberately came to find Amber.”

I knew better than to ask how she knew where we’d be. Grace looked even more serious than usual, which was never a great sign. “Um, Kat? Can you give us a minute?”

“Why don’t we visit the little girls’ room together?” my mom said, seizing the opportunity to reinsert herself into the situation by taking Kat’s arm.

Kat threw me a panicked look, but I nodded. “It’ll just take a minute,” I called reassuringly as my mom dragged her away. My dad had already disappeared, probably to cash in my twenty for chips.

“Who is that woman?” Grace asked.

“My mom.” Off her look, I said, “I know, it’s been a weird day. Very parent-forward. What’s up?”

“Nothing pressing,” Grace said. “I simply wanted to reiterate that I’d prefer you not mention my current living situation to anyone.”

I examined her. She looked uncomfortable, a little shaky beneath her usual icy reserve. “Shit. Are you saying I shouldn’t have rented that billboard?”

Grace issued an exaggerated sigh. “Must you joke about everything?”

“Sorry. I already promised not to tell Dot.”

“Or your girlfriend?” Grace said, crossing her arms.

“Not that she’d care, but no, I haven’t told her and wasn’t planning to.”

Grace held my gaze for a moment, as if trying to discern if I was lying. Then she nodded sharply. “Thank you, Amber. I appreciate your discretion.”

“Sure, no biggie.” Over her shoulder, I spotted Kat and my mother coming back. Kat looked tired and aggravated. I could empathize. “Is that it?”

Following my gaze, she said, “It must be unsettling, running into your parents like this.”

“You can say that again,” I muttered. Grace wore an odd look, like she was debating saying something. “What?”

“Nothing.” She nodded stiffly. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Can’t wait,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Make sure to bring enough cash to cover our bet. I take fives or tens, no singles.”

Grace smirked. “I admire your optimism.”

“Oh, we’re getting him,” I said, repressing a yawn. “Mark my words.” I’d had a half dozen coffees today, but none had made a dent in my fatigue. I desperately needed a power nap. And to rescue my girlfriend. Leaving Grace, I marched across the café to where my mother had Kat backed into a corner. As I approached, I overheard my mother say, “Really, I shouldn’t even be telling you this—”

I grabbed Kat’s arm and said, “Time to go. For real, this time.”

Kat smiled weakly at me. “Your mother was just telling me about an amazing business opportunity.”

“Oh, she was, was she?” I narrowed my eyes at my mom, who tucked a stray hair behind her ear, deliberately avoiding my gaze.

“I should probably make sure your father hasn’t gotten into any trouble,” my mom said, backing up.

“Is everything all right with Grace?” Kat asked.

“She’s fine,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Honey, why don’t you go get the car from the valet? I’ll meet you out there. I just want a quick word with my mom.”

“That’s sweet, dear,” my mom said, still edging away. “But I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

“Oh, I insist,” I said grimly, handing Kat the valet ticket and a five and grabbing my mother firmly by the elbow. I waited until Kat was out of sight around the bend and then growled at my mom, “Stay away from her. Do you understand?”

“Really, Emily,” my mother sighed. “Still so dramatic.”

My eyes narrowed, and I snapped, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, and I don’t care. This is the last time we see each other.”

“Is it?” my mother said, raising an eyebrow. “Because I have to say, that poor girl seems to know so little about you. Honestly, Emily, you know better. Always tell them enough to not raise questions, otherwise, it just looks like you have—”

“—some deep, dark secret,” I said, finishing for her. I’d heard that little nugget more times than I could count. It was easily in the top ten list of “Sarah Austin’s Guide to Cons.” “She’s not a mark. She’s my girlfriend.”

A long beat. My mother blinked at me. “Really?”

“Yes, Mom, really.” I rubbed my eyes, irritated. “I’m not involved in that sort of thing anymore. So seriously, just back off.”

“Well,” my mother said. “That does change things.”

I definitely did not like the look in her eye. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Because while you might have lucked into a relationship with an heiress, your father and I are barely scraping by.” A tear slipped out from her lashes, and she dug a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at it.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Crying on cue. Impressive.”

“Yes, well. It’s a shame you never mastered that particular life skill.” The tears stopped as abruptly as they’d started. My mom sighed and said, “The truth is, Emily, your father has managed to get us in debt to some rather frightening people.”

I shook my head. That wasn’t surprising. When I was ten, we’d burned through three cities in as many months, trying to stay ahead of someone named “The Collector.” I felt a reflexive twinge of panic, remembering my mother throwing things into bags as my father nursed a broken arm.

But that was a long time ago. And their troubles definitely weren’t my problem anymore. “Welp, good luck with that,” I said, turning away.

“I’ll tell her.”

“What?” I spun back around, fists balled.

My mom calmly picked a piece of lint off her sweater and said, “You heard me.”

I guffawed. “You’re seriously trying to blackmail me?”

“If the shoe fits.”

I used to be terrified of my mother, with her mood swings and unpredictable fits of rage. But staring at her now, this middle-aged woman with crow’s feet and gray roots showing through her dye job, I realized that she didn’t have the power to make me cower anymore. I’d faced much scarier people than her and walked away. Her trying to frighten me now was almost comical.

But it still pissed me off. I came right up to her and said in a low voice, “Knock yourself out, Mom. Because I’m going to tell her everything myself, tonight.”

I’d already walked ten feet when she called out, “Everything? I seriously doubt it.”

I whipped back around and spat, “You know what, Mom? You have no idea what I went through. What I survived. So do your worst. I fucking dare you.”

And with that, I stormed away.

———

Kat stared at me. “I don’t understand.”

“Which part?” I asked, plucking at the comforter. I was feeling groggy and parched, but after everything I’d just dumped on Kat, it seemed like poor form to get up for a glass of water. Outside our room, I could hear the usual soundtrack of night in Las Vegas—well, at least this particular section of Vegas, which admittedly was not the fanciest. Car horns blaring, a siren whipping past, and what sounded like a domestic dispute in the parking lot.

Which was relatable, because I was currently in the midst of a more muted version.

Despite the mass quantities of caffeine I’d ingested, when we got back to the room earlier, my body had declared a time-out. I stumbled to the bed, slept for five hours, and awoke to find Kat staring at me. I haven’t been in a lot of long-term relationships, but I’m a quick study, and what I’ve learned is that when your girlfriend glares at you like that, it’s never good.

So bearing in mind what my mom had threatened, I decided it was time to tell Kat everything. Warts and all, right? And if she decided that she didn’t want to be dating a former con artist who might also be a person of interest in a cartel murder in Miami six years ago, well, that was her choice.

It was oddly liberating. Terrifying, too, obviously—but liberating.

Except Kat wasn’t having the reaction I’d expected; instead, she just sat there looking puzzled. “So your parents are not real estate developers?”

“What?” I asked, perplexed.

“Your mother told me they were here to scout a new location for a retirement community. She said that’s what they do, that they have a nationwide contract.”

“Let me stop you right there,” I said, holding up a hand. “Did my mom ask you for money?”

Kat shifted uncomfortably. “She invited me to participate in a unique investment opportunity.”

“Of course she did,” I groaned. “But you didn’t say yes, did you? Or…oh God, please tell me you didn’t give her any personal information.”

“Like what?” Kat asked, eyes wide.

“Anything,” I said, ticking them off. “Driver’s license, credit cards, bank account numbers…”

“No, just my phone number. And you are frightening me, Amber,” Kat said.

“Sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled hard. “Okay. There’s not much they can do with a phone number, especially if you don’t pick up, which you shouldn’t. Like, ever. I’d feel terrible if they took advantage of you.”

Kat shrugged. “How much damage could they do?”

“You’d be surprised,” I muttered. Man, I was thirsty. Although a shot of tequila was starting to sound more appealing than water. “My parents are professional liars—as in, they literally lie for a living so that people give them money. And they’ve been doing it for so long, I doubt they could tell the truth now if they tried.”

Kat eyed me dubiously. “And you were also a liar?”

My knee-jerk reaction was to get defensive, but instead, I drew a deep breath and owned it. “Yeah, I was. That’s the thing about being raised by liars. I grew up thinking that was normal, that everyone lied and pretended to be all sorts of things they weren’t: bankers, lawyers,…real estate developers,” I added pointedly. “And when I was old enough to realize that most people weren’t like that, it seemed like a game. Like anyone who actually worked for a living was an idiot and deserved to be taken advantage of.”

“But then you stopped,” Kat said slowly. “After your girlfriend was killed in Miami.”

“Yeah,” I said, bracing for the flood of memories from that day. Oddly, it wasn’t as bad as usual. Maybe I was finally getting past that particular trauma. Forcing myself to meet Kat’s eyes, I said, “After Stella was killed, I went straight. I took out loans, went to college, got my degree in psychology…all of that was true.”

“Loans?” Kat cocked her head to the side.

Shit. Is this a good time to tell her the rest of it, too? That seemed like a lot of explaining for one day. And in addition to feeling like there was sand in my throat, I was hungry. Besides, my parents didn’t know about the serial killers, so it wasn’t a weapon in my mother’s arsenal.

Save it , I decided, telling myself that I didn’t want to overwhelm Kat. “That’s kind of an even longer story,” I hedged. “Can I explain that part tomorrow?”

“Amber…are you lying to me right now?”

“What?” I frowned at her. “No, of course not. I swear, everything I just told you is true.”

“No, I mean…” Kat bit her lip. “I just wonder…am I a mark? I mean, even if it just started that way, I would understand—”

“No, baby.” I took her hands in mine and scooted closer to her. “I swear, I never saw you like that. I’d already put all this behind me when we met.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I said firmly, deciding not to tell her that I’d had a bit of a relapse last spring. Because that hadn’t been by choice. And I was not even tempted anymore.

Right?

A knock at the door and then Dot called out, “It’s stakeout time! Are you girls ready to catch an asshole?”

“Be right there!” I called back. I leaned in and kissed my girlfriend, then rested my forehead against hers and looked into her eyes. “I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”

“I am crazy about you, too,” she whispered.

“Great. Then let’s go handle some toxic masculinity.”

———

Everyone had assembled back in the Mayhem dining room to get corner assignments and final instructions from Dot. Kat was walking ahead of me; when she hit the doorway, she stopped dead and I nearly crashed into her.

“Oh my,” she said, sounding awed.

Peering around her, I had to agree. There were fewer folks than had been crammed in that morning, but those in attendance were a sight to behold. A third of the room was composed of a wide variety of women in miniskirts, six-inch heels, tube tops, and blond wigs. I recognized Portia; she was in full dominatrix leathers and a blond wig that cascaded down to the small of her back. A significant number of the rest looked like they’d just stumbled off the set of a noir flick: trench coats, fedoras, wide shoulder pads, and kitten heels—clearly an assortment of Dot’s Fatal Femmes. The few people left were dressed in black, like Kat, and like Grace, who leaned against the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest, looking bemused.

“Amber,” Kat said breathily. “This might be the best vacation I have ever taken.”

“It’s a trip, all right,” I agreed. “C’mon.” I couldn’t see Dot, but Marcella was standing by the TV mounted in the corner, dressed in her former uniform: a minidress, towering heels, and a blond pageboy wig. She was talking on a cell phone with her finger blocking her opposite ear. Behind her, a chyron was ticking off the usual litany of bad news: the wildfire still raging in Colorado, a hurricane in Louisiana, a brutal murder in Arizona. We made our way over to Marcella, wending carefully through the crowd. The prevailing mood was anticipatory, chatter bouncing off the walls. A table in the center of the room was piled with snack bags and bottles of water. Beside it, a second table held canisters of pepper spray. The rest of the tables had been cleared to the room’s perimeter.

“Yeah, me too. Love you,” I overheard Marcella say as we got within hearing distance.

“Hey,” I said awkwardly after she hung up.

“Nice outfit,” Marcella said.

I couldn’t tell if she was being sardonic, but Kat brightly chirped, “Why thank you! Amber bought this for me today.”

Marcella quirked an eyebrow. “Did she now?”

“We didn’t pack a ton of black since we were coming for a wedding,” I said defensively.

Marcella smirked. “You should know better by now.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I am going to explore the food options.” Kat leaned in and pecked me on the cheek. “Any requests?”

“Grab some of those Takis,” I said.

I watched as she practically skipped to the table, immediately striking up a conversation with a cocktail waitress who had sat near us the night before. After a beat, Marcella said, “She seems to be enjoying herself.”

“Yeah. This trip isn’t turning out exactly how I promised, so I’m glad she’s making the best of it.”

“Please. Look at her. Like a pig in shit.” Marcella took a drag off a vape pen. “Not too late to throw a blond wig on her.”

Did she just call my girlfriend a pig? I frowned and said, “Thanks, we’re good.” Maybe coming over here wasn’t such a great idea. Marcella seemed to be in a mood. “Who were you talking to just now?”

“Why? You jealous?”

“Just curious.”

“Okay, everyone, listen up!” Dot called out as she bustled into the room. She wore a trench coat and fedora and was carrying a sheaf of papers. “Skeeter has come up with corner assignments and a few basic rules to follow to keep you all safe. That goes double for you blondies, hear?”

A general murmur of agreement. Skeeter stood behind her, wearing a muumuu and turban; their beard was dyed lavender to match. “Send up someone from your group to collect instructions. If you don’t have a group, no worries. We’ll get you sorted in two shakes.”

A person peeled off from each cluster. It was only then that I realized most of the crowd was grouped in trios, and we didn’t have anyone in a blond wig. Nervously, I scanned the room. Kat came back over, her purse bulging with snacks. “I grabbed ours!” she said, waving a piece of paper. “And three pepper sprays, so we are all set. We are to go to a motel called the Prickly Pear. Isn’t that a fantastic name? Marcella, are you coming with us?”

Marcella and I both looked at Kat, then at each other. She smirked at me. “That okay with you, Amber?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” I said, matching her tone.

“It is settled then,” Kat said decisively, linking an arm through each of ours. “I feel like we might be the lucky ones!”

“We better be,” I said. “I got money riding on this.”