"But surely you don't think he buys guitars without checking them out. I bet he has a team of experts. What makes you think you can fool them?"
"Poor confused girl," she condescended. "Carl's the best. He can do this in his sleep."
Her plan still seemed incomplete, so I probed further. "And how do we cool out the mark?" The cool out phase was an important part of a con that would make sure the mark didn't come after us if he figured out he'd been swindled. "Alejandro has enough money to find us, you know."
Bea waved her hand dismissively. "He wouldn't even think about doing that. He's bought dozens of rare guitars over the years, and I've never seen a story about him being cheated." She squinted at me as if I'd just landed here from outer space. "Don't you get it? I'm sure Alejandro's been swindled, but he'll never admit it. That's our cool out-coming after us would be bad publicity for him. And that's why we're going for someone so famous. A less well-known person might be willing to fight back. So don't worry."
She leaned close to me and tugged on my hair. "But I'll only tell you this once. Get that wild mop of hair under control. Dye it, or cover it. We don't make spectacles of ourselves when we're conning people-we act normally. And for this con, you have to be a conservative woman, not some fucking New York weirdo."
I felt ill. A familiar sensation washed over me, like I'd been kicked in the stomach. Con tension started to rise up again, just from thinking about all the deception. It washed over me, leaving me fatigued and afraid. I was fifteen again, setting up a con and feeling it in my gut. I didn't want to do it then, and I certainly didn't want to be doing it now. And worse, the mark was Alejandro, which made my chance of success impossibly low.
But I was stuck, so I had to follow orders, at least for now. I nodded toward the nearly-empty bag of Low-Hanging Fruit bars. "Can I have one of those?" My body could tell I was conning again, and it traitorously wanted me to eat one of those vile snacks.
Bea smiled and tossed the last bar across the table. That never would have happened when we were kids-she would have withheld the candy until the con was over. Some things had definitely changed.
I hadn't had one of these chocolate bars in years, so I was surprised at how much I loathed it. But I'd asked for it, so I choked it down quickly, just like I used to. Back then, I was hungry. Now I just needed something in my gut besides the feeling of doom. When I finished the bar, I continued to play the child and dutifully fetched a garbage can to clean up the wrappers and empty bags.