Lou nodded her approval, drumming her nails on the bar. “It might not ruin him,” she said, thinking her way through it, “but it’ll mean he has to reinvent himself. And that could take years. He’s, what—sixty-five?” I nodded, and Lou’s nose crinkled, making the smattering of freckles across her nose dance. “I’m willing to bet he doesn’t think he’s got those years to waste. Oh, good work, my love.” I choked on my drink, and Lou went on like she hadn’t noticed: “This will set her mind at ease.”

She didn’t have to specify who.

I’d pestered Lou for years about details on the Lady Upstairs, the faceless woman who handed down our orders on the marks, and our paychecks. But there was a reason Lou was the only one who dealt with her directly. Even loaded, she was the soul of discretion. She never leaked any details, no matter how many drinks I poured her.

Jackal told me once he thought the Lady Upstairs was a retired movie star. I figured she was married to one of the old families of Los Angeles, those scions established a generation or two ago. She clearly had access to people with money. Maybe she wasn’t even a she at all. Except too many of the marks, the names funneled to Lou and me in white envelopes, were bad men—cheaters, assholes, men who never heard a no. They weren’t exclusively the men we targeted, but it was more than a passing coincidence. And I could understand why. Any woman could. I couldn’t imagine a man sharing that vendetta.

But knowing the Lady had a personal hatred for bad men with money didn’t really narrow the field.

I took a moment to wipe my chin with a tiny damp cocktail napkin. “Set her mind at ease?”

Lou stamped wet circles in the grain of the wood table with the bottom of her glass and didn’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t want to worry you. She told me— Anyway, it doesn’t matter since you’ll have the money tomorrow.” Lou grinned at me, her dimples flexing.

I gulped the drink, wishing Lou had made it a double. I’d never had much of a poker face. My mother had always been able to tell when I was fibbing or upset—she said I looked like I’d swallowed my heart, exactly that phrase. Since my time as one of the Lady’s girls, I thought I’d gotten better at hiding it, but Lou noticed. Lou always noticed. “What exactly did the Lady tell you?” I asked.

“What’s wrong? You will have the money tomorrow, won’t you?”