SS:TIE 007

The office is glossy and modern with white walls and black surfaces. It smells like perfume and starch. Irina Orlova loosens her silk scarf and hands the phone to her assistant, Cosette.

Cosette accepts the phone and brushes a speck from her pencil skirt. “What do you think?” she asks.

Irina nods toward the door, and Cosette closes and locks it. Irina’s office is quiet and spacious; she takes a bottle of water from the tray on the table and leans.

“This crew is connected. This is not their first job in Miami.” Irina toys with the bottle. “They have no loyalty to anyone, and they are clever.”

“The idea with the product could work,” Cosette says.

“It will work. But it’s only a matter of time before they try to steal from me, if they are not planning to do so now.” Irina shrugs and twists the cap off with a snap. “They must go.”

SS: TIE

Rey returns home with a plastic-wrapped dossier under her arm.

“It’s just me,” Chica calls out as soon as Rey enters the house.

Rey doesn’t need to be told; the house smells good. Chica’s the only one who’s going to come over unannounced and start cooking. She’s also the only one with a key.

“Who is she?” Chica asks from the stove.

Rey puts her dossier and gun down, glancing at the receipt on the table. It’s no surprise that Chica noticed it. Chica notices everything.

“Just a one-nighter.” Rey helps herself to coffee.

“You had breakfast yet?”

“Not really.”

“Why are we sending flowers to a one-nighter?” Chica asks, flipping a pancake.

Rey ignores that and sinks into an armchair. “Why aren’t you at home?”

“Same reason I don’t put my hand down this garbage disposal.”

“What’s the problem?”

“You know how she is.”

Rey yawns. “Her wife, who is way out of her league and brings home five times what she possibly could isn’t good enough for her?”

“None of that is accurate.” Chica turns off the stove and slides pancakes onto plates. Forks clatter as she tosses them on, then adds syrup. “I think I just married the one woman on earth more risk averse than I am.”

“You should do what I do.”

“What? Tell her I sell essential oils?” Chica snorts and hands a plate to Rey, taking the other chair. “That’s her other problem. She isn’t stupid.”

“How is your sister a Formula One driver and you’re like this?”

“We aren’t as different as you think.” Chica uses her fork to cut her pancake into neat pieces. “Are we gonna talk about Lotte?”

Rey uses her hand to roll hers up and take a bite. “Nothing to talk about. Not everyone works out.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on with you. We’re leaving witnesses. We’re letting loose ends go. We’re sending people flowers.”

“Jealous?”

“I like my partners with clean criminal records,” Chica replies, chewing. “And I want to keep mine clean.”

“Prison’s not all bad. It’s a break from Ro,” Rey says, licking syrup off her fingers.

“What did Lora say?”

“She wants to hit Adella Salazar.”

Chica shakes her head, and that’s telling. She does not hesitate for a second. “Too much.”

“She’s leaving. If she doesn’t get out of Miami, she’ll be hemmed up with federal charges. We won’t have to worry about it coming back on us.”

“Is it clean?”

“Potentially.”

Chica snorts. “That’s a no.”

“Two to four million each.” Rey sets her plate aside and leans back, putting her feet on the ottoman. “Figure you’ve invested every dime you’ve brought home in the past ten years. You’re in good shape, Chica. With this, you could take Ro to Hawaii while you sit at home and worry about which kind of decaf to drink.”

“It’s obviously better to drink anything with an alternate decaffeination method. The only downside is that it limits your options. On the other hand, traditional decaf is easy to get and usually cheaper. We need ears in Miami-Dade. We need to know how hard they’re looking at that biker.”

“We’re done in Miami, no matter how hard they look,” Rey says. “We just have to tie things off first.”

SS: TIE

It’s late.

Sally gazes at her raccoon eyes in the rearview mirror, then cracks open an energy drink.

Nevaeh climbs into the car. The music from the strip club is still irksomely loud, even after the door shuts. Nevaeh smells like sweat and beer.

Sally doesn’t look at her. “What do you have?”

“They said that if I want to find Cheese, I have to talk to Glynda,” Nevaeh says dejectedly.

“Glynda? Glynda Darcy?” She’s a well-known fence. Sally’s never heard anything about Glynda having any direct ties to heavy action. This would be a first. Sally straightens up and faces Nevaeh. “Glynda Darcy is Cheese? Or a different Glynda?” How many can there be?

“I don’t know.”

“You never met with Glynda Darcy?”

“No.”

Sally stares at her hard. She believes her. “Fuck,” she mutters, sagging in her seat. She rubs her eyes and takes a gulp from her can.

Beside her, Nevaeh sniffles.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Sally snaps.

“I don’t want to go back to jail! I don’t want to get killed! And I’m tired of getting yelled at!”

Sally blinks, taken aback.

Should she comfort Nevaeh or call in the lead on Glynda Darcy?