The Con Read online

  What the hell did I just agree to?

  Chapter Nine

  I must have passed out. It's the only explanation as to why the last thing I remember is being in my outdated mess of a kitchen with Jagger, the man I've been in love with since I was a kid, and now I'm lying on my bed staring at my pale yellow walls while Jagger is removing my sweat pants and sending sparks of desire up my body.

  Wait.

  Why is Jagger removing my pants?

  I fumble, placing my hands on the pink sheets that cover my twin mattress and sit up, kicking my legs gently until Jagger is no longer touching me. I pull my pants up as fast as possible and stare at him in disbelief.

  "What do you think you're doing, Jagger?"

  "I was trying to be a gentleman. It didn't look like you were going to wake up anytime soon so I put you to bed and was just trying to make you more comfortable." He sits at the foot of my bed and takes in my bedroom that looks exactly the same way it did when I was five. "Nice room."

  "I haven't had time to redecorate. I don't have money, like you do." Everyone in our trailer park has seen the renovations made to Jagger's trailer. His place stands out in our neighborhood.

  "You will soon."

  "Jagger, what happened? How did I end up in bed?"

  "You passed out after I told you what the plan was." He stands up, his jeans falling loosely on his hips. He reaches up for something behind his ear, probably a cancer stick, but nothing is there. He must have forgotten he smoked it in my kitchen. "You're not going to make passing out a habit, are you? I can't carry five million dollars out of a bank and a dead weight girl."

  Rolling my eyes, which is my new defense mechanism, I reply, "Out of all the plans I imagined falling out of your mouth, I never thought it would involve robbing a bank and stealing from one of the most dangerous criminals in Arizona. I wasn't prepared for such a risky plan, but I am now so I won't pass out again. You have my word."

  "Yeah, well, a lot of people have given me their word before and it's meant nothing."

  "My word counts for something, and if it's any consolation I've never passed out before today."

  He smiles at me before sitting back down and reaching for my feet, placing them on his lap. His fingers start to move effortlessly over my feet, massaging the aches and pains away.

  "You must be exhausted, twinkle toes. You should go to sleep and we can talk about the details in the morning."

  I raise an eyebrow at him. "I may be tired but I want to know more about what I'm getting into. I've never done anything like this. I need to be as prepared as possible." My mind is clouded with lack of sleep, and I know that right now most of what he says will be forgotten when I wake up, but I don't want him to leave. His hands on me feel so good. I've missed his affectionate touches.

  "How about a compromise? I'll give you my rules tonight. In the morning I'll give you the details of the job, because then you'll have gotten a good night's sleep."

  "Rules?" I ask mid-yawn, my eyes starting to droop from exhaustion.

  "I have three rules for every con I pull, rules that have gotten me by in life. Rules that, in the rare moments I take in a partner, are vital for everything going smoothly."

  His thumb continues to rub the instep of my foot and it's lulling me to sleep. "Okay, what are the rules?"

  "The first rule is don't back out. You can never back out of the con, twinkle toes. Once you commit, that's it. Backing out once it's already in the process will only get us caught.

  "Rule number two is don't forget the story. You're Giselle Esposito during this. You need to learn all you can about her, embrace her, and become her. You're only as believable as your story and the words that flow past your lips. You forget it, you drop out of character for even one second, and the whole job is blown."

  My eyes drift closed and I no longer have the strength to open them. Jagger is quiet for a moment. He must think I'm already asleep but I want to know the last rule. "What's rule number three?" I mumble as I turn on my side to face the wall, my eye still closed.

  "The last rule is my most important rule. Don't fuck it up. I think that rule explains itself."

  I don't respond. I can't. I'm already drifting off to Ronnie-land where I'll undoubtedly dream about Jagger and all the things I want him to do to me, when I should be having nightmares of all the ways this job can go wrong.

  In my state of dreamy bliss I feel his lips brush against my temple as he whispers, "Sweet dreams, twinkle toes."

  ***

  The sun shines bright into the tiny window of my small bedroom as memories of last night flash back to me. I leap out of bed, rushing out of my bedroom and into the small living area of my trailer. I'm not expecting Jagger to be here, so I'm surprised when I see him sitting on the worn out sofa with two coffees in his hands and a prepubescent boy next him.

  My stumbling into the room grabs his attention. He turns to look at what I can only imagine is a complete train wreck of a woman in front of him. My wavy, frizzy red hair is probably all over the place and I'm still in the t-shirt and sweats from yesterday. Not exactly the way to a man's heart.

  "Hey there, twinkle toes. It's about time you woke up. A few minutes more and I was going to have to walk in there and wake you up myself."

  "What are you doing here, Jagger?"

  He looks over at the boy next to him before responding to my question. "We need to discuss that thing we talked about last night, and I need to bring my nephew to his baseball game so I thought I'd do both at the same time."

  I look over at the boy next to him who I now see is in a white and navy baseball uniform. Bits of black hair poke out from underneath his baseball cap. He's pale, like me, which is a stark contrast to Jagger's tan skin.

  Jagger stands up and walks over to me, handing me the other coffee in his hand. "Hurry up, twinkle toes. You're also coming with me to get a haircut."

  "A haircut?"

  "Yep. I thought I might try a new look. Something much shorter and tamer. I want to look presentable." He winks at me.

  Taking a sip of the coffee I head back to my room, not even thinking about challenging him on the plans he's made for me today. Going with him is something I know I need to do. I need to learn as much about this con as possible so I'm prepared and can study my ass off.

  I was excellent in school and was always good at studying.

  Changing into an off the shoulder white t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts, I run a brush through my messy hair and slip on a pair of flip-flops. Then I head to the bathroom and splash my face with water, wiping the sleep out from the crevices of my eyes before brushing my teeth. I'd put on make-up but Jagger is already calling me to hurry up from the other room, so I grab the coffee he brought me and head out to meet them in my living room.

  I've never been to a baseball game so I'm excited to experience something new with Jagger.

  ***

  "One more, Mason!" Jagger's hands cup his mouth as he yells out to the field. "You've got this."

  Mason is the star pitcher of his twelve and under travel baseball team. I've got to admit while I know very little about baseball, it's obvious how great Mason is at the game. It's also obvious how much Jagger plays a part in that.

  I asked Jagger if he ever played before but he never has. He does go to every one of Mason's games and pays for him to go to pitching camps and hitting camps, on top of paying for Mason to play on this travel team. It's amazing to see how much he loves his nephew.

  We're sitting on a blanket near left field instead of sitting on the bleachers like the rest of the parents and families. This made me curious at first but when Jagger started talking about the bank job it was apparent why we sat so far away from everyone else.

  "So this woman, Cheyenne, is just going to let us walk in there and take the money?"

  "Yes and no. She's going to be the manager on duty that day. She'll make sure everything is in place so our presence doesn't alert any of the other staff. She's... in a sexual rel
ationship with Angelo and thinks she's in love with him. She would do anything for him, including committing a felony and risking spending the next twenty years in prison where she won't get dick unless it's from one of the prison guards."

  "Awesome," I whisper under my breath as I stare off onto the field. Suddenly the realization of what we're doing and all that can go wrong is right in front of me. Cheyenne's risks are the same as mine. I could be spending the next twenty years behind bars and sleeping with prison guards, or becoming a lesbian with my cellmate.

  "Hey." His hand comes out to caress my cheek, bringing my attention back to him. His hand is rough against my smooth skin, evoking the carnal need I have whenever he is around. "That's never going to happen to you. I promise. I brought you into this so if someone ends up needing to take the fall it will be me. I'll never give your name, no one will ever know you were involved, I swear."

  "We could also end up dead, Jagger. Matteo Esposito is never going to let five million dollars disappear on him with no retaliation. I watch the news. I know just what kind of man he is. We'll be sitting ducks just waiting for him to hunt us down."

  "I'm working all that out," he responds sweetly, his thumb brushing back and forth against my cheek. "But you've got to trust me, twinkle toes. This will never work if you don’t trust me."

  "I've trusted you ever since you pulled my ballet slipper out of the mud when I was nine," I respond honestly. "It's not about trust, Jagger."

  "But it is, twinkle toes, and I trust you more than anyone with this. It's good to know you trust me, too."

  We're sitting next to each other, his face a few inches from mine and my eyes fall down on his lips, lips I've kissed before, and lips I want to kiss again. A few years ago those lips made me feel like I was the only girl in the world that mattered. I want him to make me feel like I matter again.

  In a moment of weakness, or maybe pure primitive need, I lean in to kiss him. He pulls away, clearing his throat before looking away from me and back out at the field.

  "Here's how the next week will play out. Today, I'm getting a haircut to make myself look more like a multi-million dollar business man and less of a hoodlum, then I'll drop you back off at home. Tomorrow you're going to come with me to get new ID pictures taken. I have a guy who works at the DMV. We'll have official identification marking us as Matteo and Giselle Esposito. We'll then hand the ID cards off to Angelo who will get them to Cheyenne, the bank's assistant manager. She'll remove the real ID cards from Matteo and Giselle's account and scan in our cards to replace them. As soon as we leave the bank with the money next week, she's going to go in the system and switch the cards, replacing them back with the originals. This will help ward off any suspicion from the staff.

  "I'll also be giving you a file tomorrow on Giselle and Matteo Esposito. Read it, learn it, and memorize it. You need to eat, sleep, and breathe Giselle for the next week."

  "Right. Rule number two–don't forget the story. I remember."

  He peers over at me from the corner of his eye. "Right."

  Sitting up straight, I cross my bare legs in front of me as Jagger's eyes follow my movement, lingering on my toned thighs.

  "Will I have to say much when we're in the bank?"

  His eyes move from my body and back up to me. "Fortunately for you, Matteo is very much in control. That's why few people even know what Giselle looks like. She's a woman who only speaks when told to."

  God, I feel bad for her, which is ridiculous because I don't even know her, but I know that no woman should ever be treated like a doormat. Marriage is a partnership. He should appreciate what she has to say and always want to know her opinion.

  "How about clothes? I have nothing that looks like I could be a cartel princess."

  "We'll go shopping on Saturday. All high-end stuff so prepare to see my wallet get a workout. Once the job is over and we get our cut, what I spend on Saturday will look like pennies."

  "Will we have a getaway driver?"

  "Twinkle toes, we won't need one. We're not going into the place and holding it up at gunpoint. We're Mr. and Mrs. Esposito and we're taking money out of our account. It's a withdrawal the bank will be prepared for because they have to have that kind of cash in the reserve for customers like me.

  "I've rented a Bentley, which we will drive to and from the bank. By the time Matteo Esposito knows any of his money is missing, the car will have already been returned and we'll be sitting at home in our trailers, planning what we want to do with our money."

  Okay, his plan sounds easy enough. But it won't be. Nothing can be this simple. Jagger makes it seem like it's just another day at work for him and it kind of is, yet it isn’t. I can pretty much guarantee he's never stolen from an organization like the Esposito’s before.

  Just the thought alone is making me start to hyperventilate.

  "Jagger," I call out, attempting to suck in deep breaths. My chest feels like it's going to explode.

  He wraps a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me into him as his forehead rests against mine. His breath falls against my skin and it's oddly calming. "You can do this, twinkle toes. I have confidence in you. It'll be simple, you'll see. Deceiving people out of money is easy, and one of the oldest careers known to man. It's even in the bible. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. I've got you."

  His forehead leaves mine and his lips brush against my temple before he pulls me into his side. I rest my head in the crevice of his shoulder and neck, continuing to steady my breathing. Just being near him is enough to make me feel safe. Whenever I begin to worry about all the ways executing his plan can go wrong, I need to remember that Jagger won’t let anything happen to me. He brought me into this so he'll make sure I get out of this.

  We continue to watch his nephew's game until it ends, with Mason's team winning 4-1. The entire ride back to the trailer park is filled with Mason's enthusiastic chatter over his team’s win. They beat one of the best teams in the state, which is a big deal in twelve and under baseball.

  Instead of dropping Mason off at home, Jagger pulls up to my small singlewide trailer and puts his foot on the brake. I look over at him, puzzled. "I thought I was going with you to get your hair cut?"

  "You've had a long day, twinkle toes. I've thrown a lot of information at you and I think you should be alone for a while to digest everything. I'll come by tomorrow to see you and we can talk some more then."

  "And your hair?"

  "I'm going to go by myself to get it cut. You'll see it tomorrow." He leans across me and opens my door from the inside. "Go inside, Ronnie."

  His fingers graze along the top of my thighs as he sits back up straight, his hands returning to the wheel. I slip out of his car and then lean inside the window. "Hey, you called me Ronnie."

  "That's your name, isn't it?"

  "Yeah... but... you never call me it."

  "It was a serious moment so I thought it called for your real name. My mistake. See you tomorrow, twinkle toes."

  I stand up straight, moving away from the car window as Jagger peels off. "See you tomorrow, Jagger."

  Chapter Ten

  This past week has been jam packed with all things Jagger related. After that Sunday at the baseball game, I dove into the life of Giselle Esposito and forgot all about Ronnie Greenwood. It was something Jagger insisted on. We even started calling each other Matteo and Giselle when it was just the two of us.

  I slipped up several times, but Jagger was always there to remind me and I've gotten better and better at it. I haven't called him Jagger in two days and he hasn't called me twinkle toes in eight.

  That part hurts a little, but I have to take my emotions out of it. I can't take it personally because we're playing parts. If he called me twinkle toes then he would be a sucky con artist. I'm glad he's good at his job. It means I'll most likely be able to avoid the inside of a cell.

  Today is the day. The day I stand beside Jagger and the day that will change the rest of my life, no matter wh
at the outcome is.

  Today we take a ridiculous amount of money out from under Matteo Esposito's nose.

  I'm so nervous. My brain is telling me this is stupid and I need to run now while I still can. My brain replays all the ways today can go wrong. My brain makes me face the hard fact that there is a real possibility I could end up behind bars by the end of the day... but then there is my heart. My heart tells me to believe in Jagger. My heart tells me to trust Jagger. My heart tells me to stand by the man I love and he'll make sure I'm safe.

  I want to listen to my heart right now, but my heart likes to get me in trouble.

  I can't stop my hands from shaking as I look at my reflection in the mirror and the imposter of a woman staring back at me. My entire life I've lived in hand me downs and now I'm standing here in designer threads. Black sleek trouser pants by Stella McCartney, a pale violet blouse with gold stitching by Ralph Lauren, black Chanel heels, and a classic black Chanel purse with a gold link chain. I look like one of the mother's from the dance school I used to attend.

  Just the thought of it has me itching to rip these clothes right off. Some of those women were just awful to me and pretending to be a woman like that, for even a few hours, is going to be hell. I may not like a lot about how my life has turned out, but I like me. I've always liked me and I don't want to change that now.

  I've straightened my normally unmanageable red hair and pinned it into a low bun. My face is coated in cover up to hide my freckles, and my eyes are covered in black Ray-Ban sunglasses–at the request of Jagger.

  Eyes are the doors to a person's soul, Giselle. We can't let anyone see our eyes because it might tell them what they need to know about us–that we're frauds.

  Giselle. At least after today he'll no longer call me that.