Style cost extra. What I saved in rent was more money that could funnel back to the Lady to pay off my debt. I could move out if I wanted something nicer, but why bother with marble countertops, or a posher zip code, when I spent more time away from my bed than in it? Tarantula Gardens was home, but it wasn’t forever. I’d always known that.

But I’d thought I’d have more time before it ended.

The last time I’d paid my own rent, I’d been a different woman. That woman would’ve been depressed by this apartment. She would’ve taken Builder Beige personally. Even with the debt and the threats, I had much to thank the Lady for—murdering that woman was perhaps top of the list.

As long as the Lady kept signing my checks, I didn’t wonder, too much or too often, about who she was, or why she did what she did. It was enough for me to know that what I was doing made life a little more difficult for men like Hiram Klein, for whom life had never been particularly difficult.

But it did bother me that Lou had a real relationship with her, this woman about whom I knew nothing. The two of them, bent heads looking through the newspapers, picking out names. Networking with the nouveau riche at galas, dressed to the nines. Arm in arm, sipping from each other’s champagne. How that would go on after me. Without me.

I stood up, my face hot, thinking I’d grab a drink. Instead, I went to the window and pushed it open, sticking my face into the warm night air that smelled equally of jasmine and festering garbage.

I wished I hadn’t said anything about Ellen. I hadn’t meant to. I’d wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. And she’d ask about it tomorrow. I knew that if I tried to smooth it over, like Jackal had with the photographs, Lou would see through it. She’d know I was lying to her, and then she’d start to wonder, and maybe she’d call the Lady and the two of them would put their heads together and figure out some other things before I had a chance to fix any of it.

The score from Klein would depend on the footage, and the story I could craft, what I thought I could use to trigger him. If it was meant to be fifty large, could I push it as high as seventy-five? Slip the eight back to the police for the bribe, a couple more to ensure Jackal’s silence, and still pay off the debt. Playing fair, or close to it. The Lady would never know.