The Whole Tooth and Nothing but the Tooth

“Harry?”

“Surveillance and logistics, here!”

“Slip-Knot Jenny?”

“Picking pockets and breaking hearts, Boss!”

“Greasy Len?”

“Will climb through a keyhole if I can’t pick it.”

“Ashford and Fandango?”

“Masters of disguise, present!”

“Or are we?”

My crew were together at last, names as close to my heart as the tattoo of Mother Teresa on my chest. Hadn’t seen the gang since I got my hand caught in the cookie jar and was made to contemplate my debt to society for five years or so. They kept their heads down and their skills sharp. And here we were dead of night, huddled on the roof, cracking knuckles, and leaning in. “This is the greatest score of them all. Never have I needed such a crack team of finger smiths and stealth men,” grins went round the circle. “There will be danger, there will be risk and we may even lose a tooth.”

“Why are we on the roof?” “I’m getting to that Grease, stick with me…”

“But it’s your house Boss” Slip-knot Jenny slouched on the dormer window. “I’m getting to that… this is the con we have been working towards our whole career…”

“Couldn’t we just walk in…?”

“I have a spare key for the back door” Fandango looked down from the eavestrough.

“He’s been helping with the landscaping while you was locked up.” “This is the score to end all scores... it will take all the skill, strength and goddam guts ya got!”

“So why the get up?” Greasy Len pulled at the flamingo pink tights pinching his crouch. “Come on Grease, you gotta dress for the job.” I looked at the crew outfitted, at my instruction, to perfection.

“But the wings Boss!... Even I think they are a bit….” Jenny twinkled her fingers and fluttered her eyelids.

“Those feathers look nice on you” Ashford leaned over to smooch Fandango. “Hands off my wand” his brother smacked him. Harry quietly smoothed his tutu over his bulging belly and was secretly pleased with how soft it was.

“Must be a hell of a score: to risk your parole so soon out of the Joint… What’s the prize?” I held up a small pair of dazzling diamond studs, a little something I “tripped” over in the First National bank vault before I was sent to the big house. They’d been with me in prison the whole time.

“We gonna put them back Boss?”

“Yeah, what gives?”

“Let’s go over the plan…Surveillance…”

“Right. Subject, age eight, living at this address, today at 3:32 pm while stepping off the school bus, bit into an unripe apple,” He checked his notes, “GALA apple and lost a baby tooth. She palmed it for later and plans to, and I quote ‘leave it under the pillow tonight so the TOOF fairy will leave her MUNNY WUNNY in the morning.” He cleared his throat, closing his little black notepad and wiping some glitter off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Subject has done her homework, brushed her teeth and appears to be ‘night night’, choosing Mr. Snugglepuss as her bedtime companion.” They twins nodded relieved, pulled out their Mr. Snugglepuss masks out of their gear bag. “Layout of the room is very straight forward, ten by fourteen. Window to bed three feet. Princess Canopy and throw rug could be a problem, but no other obstacles could be detected by the satellite feed earlier today.” Good old Harry, always the professional, as strait laced as a small-town librarian, one would never know he’d brought down the firewall at the pentagon each fourth of July for laughs. “You all know what you have to do… Grease you jimmy the window, Jenny you palm the ivory, Ash and Fan you stand by to distract her if she wakes up and I’ll swap in the loot, Clear?” “Crystal!”

If I ever wondered about the paternity of my Princess, the following sequence is a testament to her inherited diabolical genius. Grease picks the locks alright, steps through the window and onto the runner of my daughter’s new rocking horse, which head butts him hard in his unmentionables and floors him. Jenny, steps over to sneak to the canopy and gets her wings tangled in the drapes. The twins, who I have watched cartwheel over laser beams and skip over motion sensors for kicks, stumble past and are attacked by loose Lego pieces strewn about the bed and fall into a heap. Somehow, miraculously, my little angel is as still as a statue, while my team are a tangle of pink lycra and shame. My crew was down, it was all up to me. I felt the little diamonds press into my palm, this could be her last baby tooth and I had missed so many. I straightened my teeny tiny tiara and pulled up my tights and did the Kansas City Shuffle over to the bed. Any Grifter who had to choose, disarming a bomb, or lifting the pillow of a light sleeping eight-year-old would run screaming towards the pliers and the red wire, rather than risking the sheets. Jenny, Grease, and the boys had my back, watching breathlessly in the darkness. I slid my hand under the pillow, feeling for that little incisor and all I found was a piece of construction paper. In the moonlight, I could see a message scribbled in blue crayon, “Smile Daddy!” “Smile?” I thought, just as a click from her Papa’s old camera blinded us all with an unexpected flash! Wings and feathers, flustered and fraught, all caught on film by my little evil mastermind. She switched on the nightlight giggling. Bested, I helped poor Grease off the floor and untangled Jenny from the drapes. The twins struggled to their feet.

“Something beautiful to grow into” I offered her the earrings and tussled her hair. “But Daddy, they match your tiara!” she handed them back with a sly-eyed goofy gap-toothed grin.