“I’ll come find you in an hour. We’re going to blow the lid off this place. Then you can take me out dancing.” Her hips swayed inelegantly as she attempted a sexy saunter. She was not pulling off sky-high heels. But he watched her smooth back as she walked past him anyway. What would it feel like to grip that tiny waist, both hands on the small of her back, his thumbs resting on her tailbone? The back of her dress—all the way down to the V above her tailbone—disappeared into the ballroom, leaving him with nothing but her signs.

Thinking only of that cinnamon swath of skin, he’d almost pulled out his phone to search “Latin Dance Clubs in DC,” when his smile faded. He didn’t dance. He wasn’t Latino. She had charmed him after all. It was so simple. He was astonished and angry at the same time.

The double doors hadn’t even closed completely behind her before he set a match to the pile of wooden stakes and papers.

THE MONEY

Liza was elated. She couldn’t have worked it out any better. She had found an inside man. Poor guy, the way his eyes had lit up when he saw that money. That will feed his family tonight. From the look of his hard face, he had probably served some time and was paying his dues in low-wage jobs. He was Latino, maybe with some other heritage as well—either way, she was surprised at his immaculately tailored uniform. Extra lining material at the cuffs, merino wool, and wide seams to accommodate additional tailoring. God, those eyes, though—obsidian black as the night around him. That dark-eyed waiter could toss her around all night and never call her back, and Liza would not be mad.

Once inside, Liza wasn’t particularly impressed by the ambiance and attendees. She saw her grandmother in her church finery, a green sateen tracksuit and a sparkling pillbox hat with a multicolored plume of feathers settled against her close-cut wig.

“You couldn’t find one dress to wear, Momma?” Bev asked.

“I’ll wear a dress to my funeral,” Granny said.

Beverly was dressed to kill in a too-tight, bright yellow contour bandage dress that showed her panty line, accessorized with long gold-looking earrings, which were fooling no one. She paired this outfit with white wedge espadrilles that only slightly showed their age. Despite the festivities, though, she looked worried. Liza sidled up next to her, and Bev rolled her eyes.

“These are all the same old fools from our neighborhood. I know the look of a cheap suit,” Bev said. Liza nodded in agreement. Granny was a seamstress, and since her hands had become shakier over the years, a lot of the alteration work had gone to Bev and the children.