Chapter Text
The bubbles floating on top of the water popped against her skin in puffs of grapefruit and cedar. The overpowering smell is welcome after so long only using bar soap that left her feeling as though her outsides actually might crack open right along with her insides if it dragged out too much longer.
She starts at the top of the list once again. This time she makes it all the way to number five of fourteen - not even halfway - before her eyes dart back to the top whether she likes it or not.
- Be FF?
- Uncle Monty
- Sketchy
- Diva Zapata
- Loves me Not
She always ends up back at the start.
Be FF?
Back at the start with her.
Be FF?
There’s a bed made-up in thousand thread count egyptian cotton less than twelve steps away and she hasn’t slept in two days and she can’t force her mind to be quiet. She tried. When she first walked into the room and the maid left and the door clicked behind her, she fell backwards onto those sheets still in her heels and coat, surrounded by crisp bags full of beautiful things. She closed her eyes and next thing she knew it was 45 minutes later. But when she actually peeled herself out of that dress - the dress that she’ll need to burn - and washed her face and lay down again, sleep was evasive.
Eventually she gave up and decided to take advantage of the soaker tub.
But now she can’t put down the list. Can’t make it through the entire thing either because, really, all of it hinges on number one. Nothing works without it. Without her.
Be FF?
A question. For now, at least.
She’s tired. God, she’s tired. Hasn’t been this tired and still unable to sleep in sheets like those since before.
She had tried to sleep. Had tried to sleep engulfed in million-thread-count sheets. Couldn’t though. Can’t remember being this tired and also this restless. Well, she can. But not since before.
Nobody wants to work alone; not even an Ocean loath as they might all be to admit it. Even Danny didn’t like it - even Danny had Rusty. She thought she had Danny. But, well, she’d been down that road before and it had always been the same. She told herself that next time she wouldn’t fall for it. Wouldn’t fall for it again. She can’t sleep. Thousand thread count isn’t as comforting when you’ve just been screwed over by your big brother. But, Vegas doesn’t sleep either and what was the use in letting the opportunity to get something out of the trip slip past?
It was more of a challenge to work the tables in the wee hours, anyways. And Deborah Ocean always liked a challenge; knowing that she can do what she wants, when she wants, regardless of what kind of cover she has. Not like Danny. Danny relied on the fireworks to keep the eyes away from him. Debbie might not be surrounded by circumstance, but where Danny went big, Debbie was chic.
It was her hands that Debbie noticed first - quick fingers switching out chips the same way her own were. Fast; efficient; clean. Eyes came next - blue; so blue; and staring at Debbie from underneath perfectly manicured brows.
It would have been hard not to notice the jawline; and the cheekbones - all but concave. She wouldn’t notice the strong shoulder and slim waist until later. Those didn’t matter yet. All that mattered, then, was that Debbie wasn’t the only one at that table. And that could have been the best thing to happen all night, or it could have been the worst thing to happen all year. She wouldn’t know until -
“I think we have something in common.” The smooth Australian lilt came from beside her, through the almost-stifling hot air, its owner sinking down onto the chaise by the water, beside Debbie’s.
“I got there first.”
“I know.”
Debbie wasn’t sure where the wad of cash had been stashed, but - “I don’t want a cut.”
“Do you know what a Savannah is?”
“I’m in.”
The hand she shook was softer than Debbie had expected, but the grip was stronger. “Lou Miller. I knew your brother.”
“Who didn’t.”
“ Not like that. We did some work together.”
“So did I. Had some trouble settling up.”
“So did I.”
That was when Debbie first took Lou in, in full. Regarded her over the top of the drink she raised to her lips--pink lips and hollow cheeks and impossibly long legs. Platinum hair, cut blunt. And a smirk. A smirk that Debbie wouldn’t mind seeing on Lou’s face every day.
“So we were at that table together, last night, by accident? ”
“Of course.” It’s drawled out over Lou’s accent, and Debbie thinks she could get used to hearing that voice.
“How do you know my brother?”
“Your role in all of that ? He replaced me four days ago.”
“That was already two days into the job.”
“Not much of a decoy, no. But I supposed they aren’t capable of seeing much other than lips and hips and breasts.”
It didn’t take long for Lou to realize that she enjoyed watching Debbie work. Quick hands following a quicker mind.
And she liked that. It was not what she had been looking for.
In her wildest imagination she really had just been looking for a little payback to deliver to Daniel Ocean. Maybe somebody to work with once in a while. She didn’t expect Daniel Ocean’s little sister to look like that . To be sleek and hot and hard to handle and intimidating all at once. And smooth. So damn smooth even while drinking bar-rail vodka and wearing hooker heels. And Lou fell into sync with all of it faster than she realized what was happening.
“I have a fence we can call when we get back to New York.”
It didn’t surprise Lou that Debbie would have somebody at the ready; it surprised her a little that she had somebody that she so readily trusted to not call Danny.
“They’re more loyal to you than your brother?”
“I’ve known Tammy forever. Danny can’t touch that--wishes he could, though. That and her. I’m more her type than he is.” Debbie tosses in a wink. “We can trust her.”
Lou discovered that Tammy was impossibly bright-eyed, not quite as scathing as most fences, and absolutely smitten with Debbie. Which was fine. Mostly. Well, it was because Lou had no claim over her new partner, not any further than a fair cut from their work. But it wasn’t the discovery she had hoped to make either.
Debbie had history with Tammy. Lou couldn’t touch that - knew she couldn’t touch it. And really wasn’t in the business of trying.
The bubbles in the tub pop sharp against Debbie’s skin. There’s more than one option for almost every character in her script - she has preferences, but those are neither here nor there.
But Be FF?
It only works with Lou. And she hates that it’s still a question