AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Katerina stared at her and then said something crude-sounding in Slovakian and walked away.
Fifteen minutes later, in her street clothes but still wearing the jewel-toned makeup and lion’s mane of white-blond hair, Aria was on the street outside Greville’s, where a text message summoned a rental car. In twenty minutes she’d be at the airport, where she’d hit the first-class lounge and clean off the rest of Melody Solo. By nightfall, she’d be in London from where she’d make contact with Shoma Oshiro and negotiate the transaction.
Meanwhile she planned to eat everything on the plane, including anyone who attempted to talk to her. She’d never been so hungry.
She boarded a British Airways flight as Archie Peggio. It was Archie, wearing vintage jeans, a low ponytail, a leather bomber jacket and scuffed Doc Marten boots, who landed in Gatwick, caught a cab to the Charlotte Street Hotel, where she endured the raised eyebrows and snooty tone of the desk clerk for her down-market dress standards while she signed in, changing her name again and listing her occupation as web designer, and her purpose for staying as shopping. Only one of those things was a lie. She would definitely be shopping.
But that came after sleeping and a late snack, during which she called Pari using a burner cell phone.
“It’s me.” She took a bite of chicken, ham and leek pie. It was delicious, and so were the mashed potatoes.
“Hello, babe, did you have a good day?” Pari responded. There was the echo of being on speaker. Pari was in the shop, not the factory.
“Exceptionally good.”
“Ooh.” Aria could hear Pari clapping. It was a very Pari thing to do, that and design the most exquisite shoes in the world. If only the swanks, toffs, socialites and celebs who paid squillions for her creations knew Pari wasn’t the daughter of Indian royalty, but a Vegas hustler born in Detroit whose real name was Sue Ann Singh. “When do I get my cut, babe?” And nobody’s fool.
“When the transaction is complete.”
“Which is when?”
“A few days. It’s better if I let Shoma think I’ve got several buyers dangling.”
“It’s not better for me. I get a straight cut of whatever you take.”
“How could I forget.”
“And be careful with that yakuza bitch. You’re lucky I love you and there’s no vig.”
Aria was lucky she’d met Pari, someone who knew a great hustle when she saw it and how to keep her secrets close. Between the two of them they’d financed a life of crime from other crimes. Counting cards, rigging scams, duping tourists and fencing stolen property on an average day, running short cons on a good day—until Pari met Kristof, the love of her life, and went straight. More or less. And Aria decided to spread her wings with increasingly sophisticated long cons.
“Tell me I’m a genius with the shoe thing,” Pari said. “Did it go like we planned?”
“You’re a genius. It went exactly to plan.”
“That’s because I told that Slavic dresser she’d offend me if she returned the shoes with a single scratch on them.”
“Ah, Katerina.” Aria ate more pie. “She was nice to poor stupid Melody.”
“I’ll be sure to buy something off her when she launches her own line. I guess Melody’s career is in tatters.”
“Yeah, reputation ruined. She’ll never work as an upscale hand model again.” And yet Aria’s reputation, if she could claim it, would be wildly enhanced by her biggest ever score.
There were a good couple of minutes of cack
ling at that. Aria had to abandon her pie to breathless laughter.
“Now what are you going to do?” said Pari.
“Eat, sleep, shop. Mostly eat. All my regular clothes hang off me. If I get any skinnier my ribs will stick together.”
“And.”
“And start researching the Blue Hope.” A diamond bigger—and more famous—than the Sweet Celestia.
“It’s too big for a shoe,” said Pari. “We need another scam.”
“Hmm.” Aria yawned, took advantage of her open mouth and forked some mash. “What if Sikander-Jah made costume jewelry to match the shoes? You’d still have a legitimate reason to order high-quality synthetic diamonds.”
