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And she’s done it.
After nearly six years of pondering, planning, scheming - whatever anyone would call it - she’s done it.
More accurately, they’ve done it.
Rose, Constance, Nine-Ball, Amita, Tammy…
And of course, Lou.
The plan never would have worked without all of them.
God, she loves women.
(In both a feminist way and a gay way.)
Victory tastes sweet, but that’s probably just the cocktail. There’s nothing like winding down from a heist with a good drink and the company of someone that you love. Though the martinez cocktail isn’t quite what she’s used to, it’s a cut above a standard martini, and really, she deserves it.
The bar itself is nice. Upmarket, lots of exposed brick, and the two of them don’t look out of place, despite the sheer glitter covering their clothes. Lots of neon, too. It’s nice.
“You going to stare all night?” Lou drawls, looking past her to some scrawny guy sitting along the bar. “At least buy me a drink first.”
He rolls his eyes and walks away, apparently not content to fight with someone in a lurid sequined jumpsuit.
It’s a smart decision. Back before Debbie’s extended holiday behind bars, she’d seen Lou kick someone’s ass in spandex and stiletto heels. It had been quite the mental material for those cold prison nights, and she doesn’t regret it at all.
“You look like you never left the seventies.” Debbie says, through a mouthful of cocktail. She swallows, and likes the slight burn at the edge of the sweetness. “Is this couture now? Have I really missed that much?”
“Just because you can’t recognise high fashion when you see it, honey, doesn’t mean that it’s not fashionable. I look great and at least I have pockets.” Lou proves the efficacy of said pockets by unearthing a pile of dollar bills and a handful of sequins from one of them.
It’s really very impressive, if you’ve got a pressing need for sequins.
That’s more Rose’s area than hers. She leans in closer, and lowers her voice. “You’re down to your last few dollars, huh? I sure wish we both had some new revenue stream coming in soon.”
Lou rolls her eyes and punches her on the shoulder. “Yeah, I know, you’re very witty and intelligent and beautiful and your plan worked. I never should have doubted you.”
“Did you ever really doubt me?”
“Of course not.” Lou takes an ungraceful gulp of her drink. It’s vodka, straight. Very her. (Ignoring the straight part.) “I’ve known you forever. I’m just very pleased that none of us ended up in jail.”
“Yet.”
“Mmm, well, if we get put in jail this time we might actually get to stay together.” The blonde replies, and innocently looks up at Debbie through her eyelashes. “Will you have me as your prison wife, Deb?”
“I’d have you as my actual wife if it was legal.” And despite the joke in her words, she can’t help but lace it with something serious. They’ve known each other too long.
Lou blinks, the energy of the moment suddenly gone. “Shit- you didn’t- Even in prison I’d have thought- Deb, gay marriage is legal now. In the entire country. Did that news seriously not reach you in prison?”
“I had a lot on my mind.” Legal? In this country? Wow. Out of the two things in the world that seemed the most impossible to her when she’d gone into prison, that was one of them.
(The other was the death of her brother, but really, even that’s a little up in the air now. She’s still not convinced that her brother’s actually dead.)
“”Unfortunate.” Lou looks at her vodka glass consideringly, and then downs the whole thing in one. “Because I would have said yes.”
The moment stretches long and considering between them and it feels a lot like a series of bad ideas. It’s not like she hasn’t considered it , 20 years worth of friendship does that to a woman, but even so. She’s too drunk and high on victory for this. It’s a heady, bad mix.
“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me alive.” Lou drawls.
Is this happening? After so long dancing around it it almost feels too much. She sucks in a breath and swallows, heavily, alcohol-soaked air suddenly making everything feel very, very warm. “Opposed?”
“Honey, I’ve never been more consenting in my life.”
They don’t even make it back to the apartment. It’s probably for the best, because there's no doubt that at least one of the others will be there, capitalising on the unlimited WiFi.
Still, there's something to be said about making out against the stall of a grimy bar toilet.
It's hot, and a little bit gross, and she's really fucking into it. That's definitely a present company thing, though.
“You’re thinking too much,” Lou gasps, and starts kissing her way down her neck. “If you're planning our next job in your head now I swear to God-”
The thought of her job has never been further from her mind. She inhales sharply as Lou does something with her tongue that makes heat twist low and heavy in the base of her stomach. “You would - ah! - chose today of all days to… wear a one-piece.”
“I didn’t actually wake up this morning intending to fuck my best friend.” Lou looks up at her, a gleam in her eye. She runs her fingers over the inside of her bare thigh, which really, is a little unfair.
Talking is a little hard with
that
going on. “Really?”
“Well, maybe a little?” Lou grins, and then does her best to make Debbie scream.
God, she
loves
women.