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“One last job,” Julia’s letter had said. “For Perky.”
Charlene left that life behind her, found love and motherhood and a crime-free existence in Virginia. But the moment her feet touch the ground at Hartsfield she can feel that old excitement pulse through her veins. There’s a rush to pulling off a heist, knowing you’ve stuck it to one of the snooty jerks that have judged you your whole life just because of how you talk or your haircut. “Where y’all from, bitch?” indeed.
The plan is simple: Next Saturday evening is the Metro Atlanta United Way Gala. Suzanne will use her feminine wiles to charm William S. Thompson, a real sleazebag with an art collection that’s the worst-kept secret in Buckhead. When she gets an invite back to the mansion, Mary Jo will trail behind (the explanation given is that she’s the smallest and most agile, but Charlene suspects it has just as much to do with Jo’s jealousy of any attention paid to the younger Sugarbaker). Julia, as always, is overseeing the whole operation, leaving Charlene and Anthony to do the heavy work of actually moving the paintings once Mary Jo and Suzanne have gotten access to the vault. Bernice is the emergency wildcard, able to deliver a distraction in a pinch but most certainly adding in complication to boot.
Charlene gets in on Monday. She likes to have plenty of time to settle into a job, plus she and Mary Jo have an awful lot of catching up to do. They paint their nails and watch Oprah , and Charlene gently pries about the redhead’s dating life.
“Oh, you know it’s impossible to find a good man in this city. I’ve just about quit looking.”
“For men, or in general?”
“What?”
“Nevermind.” Charlene plays it like a ditzy offhand comment. (Mary Jo normally knows better, but she reckons she’ll let it slide this once.) “So, what’s the story behind this gig, anyway? Julia mentioned it was for Perky, otherwise I might not’ve come, you know the other PTA moms would have a cow if they knew I was leaving Bill to play single dad while I robbed some rich old coot!”
“Oooh yeah, apparently this Thompson guy, he was a real asshole to Perky back in the day. Julia holds a grudge, you know, and since Perky’s getting on in years, she wanted to give her a gift to remember. Plus, you know she studied at the Sorbonne, right? Most of our jobs these days are more jewelry, which Suzanne of course loves…” Charlene can see her eyes glaze over as she undoubtedly pictures the draping of diamonds across Suzanne’s ample bosom. She raises her eyebrow and Mary Jo clears her throat. “Anyway, so Julia jumped at the chance to steal this twerp’s Georgia O’Keefe collection.”
“Wouldn’t have picked a good ol’ boy for a connoisseur of vulvar floristry.”
“Hell if I know, I’m just here to get paid. Brownie ate a scrunchy last week and it damn near drained Quint and Claudia’s college fund.”
Charlene lifts up her glass of White Zinfandel. “To Brownie and his delicate digestive tract, may he never again ingest elastic.”
The interior decorating firm is a convenient ruse for casing Atlanta’s most ostentatious homes. Charlene’s a little surprised they’ve gotten away with it for so long, but she supposes that actually fulfilling their contracts, combined with good old fashioned misogyny, has kept them under the radar thus far. Besides, Mary Jo tells her, they haven’t pulled off anything big in years. Turns out that Charlene’s uncanny ability to make a friend of every stranger was the secret to their success. She’s happy to put it to use once more, chatting up Thompson’s personal assistant when she drops by under the guise of trying out some paint swatches and fabric samples in the sitting room. Two hours later, she’s got a good feeling about seafoam green, the hot gossip on Thompson’s security guard slacking off on the job, and a decent recipe for potato salad.
When she gets back to the office, Julia and Anthony are in the storeroom, going over the blueprints for the mansion that Julia finagled after calling in an old favor with the city clerk’s office. Suzanne and Mary Jo are sitting on the couch, much closer than the dimensions of the furniture dictate (not that that’s any of her business).
“How was the visit? You get anything good?” Mary Jo turns her head to speak to Charlene, but keeps her body angled toward Suzanne.
“Well, Maureen let it slip that the security guard is glued to his soaps and I know for a fact that One Life To Live is in the middle of a heckuva love triangle right now, so I bet if we aim for the 2 to 3 pm time slot we’ll have a much easier time smuggling the paintings out.”
“I don’t normally arise until one p.m. anyway, I’ll tell him I’ll see myself out after he heads off to work.”
“You’re not going to actually sleep with him, are you?” Mary Jo asks.
“Of course not.” Suzanne is indignant. “I’m going to make him think that I will, then accept his gracious offer of the guest bedroom after I am suddenly afflicted with a terrible headache.”
“Oh. Good.” What Charlene wouldn’t give for a cup of popcorn to munch on during this back and forth.
“Though I must wonder why you’re so concerned with my virtue, Mary Jo. I’m no spring chicken.”
Mary Jo blushes and mutters, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you have to do something you don’t want just for this job.”
Suzanne’s stare is unwavering. “I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do.”
Charlene clears her throat and wonders if anyone else can feel the absurdly thick tension, when it is broken by Anthony’s voice as he and Julia return.
“Mary Jo, have you ever crawled through a laundry chute?”
The original plan is for only Suzanne, Julia, and Mary Jo to attend the Gala, but Maureen was so taken with Charlene that she offers her the last remaining seat at Thompson’s table, and she’s not fool enough to turn down a prime reconnaissance opportunity. (That, and she’ll do just about anything for a free shrimp cocktail. She knows that when you really think about it, shrimp are just sea bugs, but something about the way they rest in that perfect circle on the edge of the glass just gives it a real touch of elegance.)
She mostly tries to focus on making nice with the folks at her table (and thank God Maureen is there, because everyone else is so high strung that none of her usual Weekly World News anecdotes interest them at all), but every now and then she takes a break on the dance floor to check in with Julia. Suzanne, of course, is hanging all over Thompson while Mary Jo glares daggers from the bar. They return to their spots for the main course, and Charlene is so caught up in making sure she uses the correct fork that she doesn’t realize that both Suzanne and Mary Jo are absent from Suzanne’s table. Julia appears very engaged in conversation, so Charlene heads out of the ballroom to check in.
As she turns the corner, she sees the vibrant shock of Mary Jo’s hair cover Suzanne’s face, and the telltale sounds of one helluva kiss.
“Mary Jo! What in the world are you doing?”
The redhead turns around, Suzanne’s lip shade smeared across her face. “Oh. It’s just you. Suzanne was telling me that Thompson keeps his keys inside his suit jacket so I can pickpocket them later, and when I heard footsteps I panicked.”
“I mean, there’s a fire alarm right there that would have made a plenty good distraction, but suit yourself. Although if y’all had kept going at that rate, I reckon a fire extinguisher would have been necessary anyway.” Charlene playfully sticks her tongue out. She doesn’t believe she’s ever gone this long without hearing Suzanne Sugarbaker share an opinion.
“Well dammit Mary Jo, you’ve ruined my make up. I’ve gotta go fix this so I can seduce that old fart into bringing me home with him.” She strides to the bathroom, cheeks bright red.
“What’s her problem?” Mary Jo mutters. “It’s not like we’ve not done crazy things to pull off a job before.”
“Well, sure,” Charlene answers, “but I think you and Julia hiding under a bed for six hours is a little different than you sticking your tongue down her throat. I mean, didn't you ever learn how to stage kiss?”
“Huh. Guess I was just acting on pure instinct.” Charlene raises her eyebrows but is wise enough to keep her thoughts to herself.
If Charlene is honest, the theft is the least interesting part of the whole thing. Suzanne wraps Thompson around her finger, Mary Jo sneaks in while he’s distracted upstairs, Anthony and her come by the next morning with a carpet delivery and make the switch, Julia contacts her art world connections to make a sale, with the exception of one piece for her private collection. Bernice’s skills aren’t even needed, it’s such a clean job, though she does have quite a lot of commentary to share on each painting and the larger cultural significance of artistic genitalia.
Everyone is naturally in good spirits except for Suzanne. (This is surprising, as nothing more reliably brings Suzanne Sugarbaker joy than money, and they have just made quite a lot of it).
“Are you alright, Suzanne?” Mary Jo gently asks. (She is sitting on the arm of the couch where Suzanne is dramatically reclined. There are three open chairs in the showroom. But it’s not Charlene’s place to mention).
“No I am not alright! Do you make a habit of kissing women senseless and then avoiding them for twelve hours?”
“I’m sorry, Suzanne, I don’t know what came over me. I was acting in the heat of the moment.”
“And furthermore, quite frankly, I think it’s rude to barge into people’s dreams without even asking! I have to see you hear all day and then you’re just waiting behind my eyelids too? I mean it’s outrageous!”
Julia makes eye contact with Anthony and Charlene. “We’ll just go ahead to the bar, y’all can meet us whenever you sort this out. Are you joining us, Bernice?”
“That mechanical bull isn’t gonna ride itself!”
They get through two rounds of drinks at Uncle Gertrude’s before Mary Jo and Suzanne join them, certainly less tense than an hour ago. Jo, lightweight that she is, takes no time to surpass them all in intoxication, and leans in towards Charlene the way she does when she knows she’s got a good story.
“So, it turns out, Suzanne and I have figured out a way better solution to this tension than arguing. I mean, I didn’t even know that you could-”
Suzanne cuts her off with a kiss.
“What was that for?”
“Mary Jo, you were about to be incredibly crass in front of our colleagues, and I am not ready for them to be privy to those details of my personal life.”
“Baby, you just kissed me in front of everyone, I think that ship has sailed.”
“Did I hear someone mention lesbians and ships?” Bernice interjects. “I’ve been just dying to go on one of those Olivia cruises, I hear they have the best shuffleboard games.”
Charlene’s flight home is in the morning. She misses Bill and Olivia so much that it hurts. But tonight, she will revel in screwing over a rich asshole, being buzzed with her dear friends, and toasting to Mary Jo getting some.