Chapter Text
New York City, 1992.
Debbie Ocean was gazing blankly out the window, watching the snow blow and twist its way across Central Park. The view was spectacular, but she was pretty much used to it by now; they’d been looking at it for a few months. If she craned her neck, she could see the Met down the street. She hadn’t been there yet, although she’d been meaning to go ever since they'd moved to the Upper East Side. So much I could do... but with who? she thought.
Debbie was a bit lonely. She didn’t want to do a lot of that touristy stuff alone, and her brother wasn’t too interested in culture. He only cared about the next score. Debbie didn’t mind hanging out here with Danny, but she was getting cabin fever. I need to get out more, she thought as she stared across at the Park. I need a friend or something. I’ve got money… maybe I can buy a friend. Debbie sighed. That sounded sad even in her own head. She turned away from the window.
Debbie didn’t exactly have millions right now, but she had more money than she’d had in a long while. Enough to be living in the city in a swanky building without having to worry about what to do today, or tomorrow, or next month. Within the year they’d be running out of cash if they weren’t careful. Debbie was certainly being more cautious with her cash than the others were with their cuts, although she supposed that living here all together was smart on all their parts. It gave them a base of operations, a place to make their plans; all while posing and living as the privileged children of a new money, mysterious New York family: the Oceans. And Rusty of course. Debbie smiled at the thought of Danny's goofy friend. Depending on their purpose on a given day, Rusty posed as their cousin, their brother, or even Debbie’s boyfriend. Debbie preferred when he played her ‘brother’, because that’s what he really felt like.
She looked over at Danny and Rusty, who were hanging out on the couch playing video games. Although Danny was a few years older than Debbie, even at 26 years old he was still just a big kid. He loved games. He loved winning. He loved making money and concocting elaborate schemes that made him more money, so he could play more games and win some more. Life was all a big game to him. Debbie had to admit that although these lows, like the one they were in now – the in-between times, the downtime between gigs – could get a bit tedious, the potential high of pulling off another Ocean heist or scheme was intoxicating and addictive. She always ended up sticking around for one more.
They were living off the latest con now, a simple jewelry heist at multiple locations. It was so easy, she thought. Her and Rusty had posed as a couple looking to get engaged and had scoped out some truly outrageous rings for sale around the city. They’d enlisted a counterfeiter to make copies, and one by one they’d made the switches while ‘trying them on for size’. Debbie had enjoyed the audaciousness of it all, making the swaps so quickly right under the noses of the smug salespeople. Once or twice she’d had to make a bit of a scene with Rusty, pretending to be so in love with him and throwing her arms around his neck, turning them to avoid the prying eyes of security cameras or personnel while she made the switch. After they were done, they’d fenced all the goods and split everything, and Debbie had enough to live the high life… at least for a little while. As Danny put it, “Have fun with it, Deb. Buy some pretty things, relax for the winter. Then we can plan the next endeavor. I’ve got a big role in mind for you for the next one.” He said that part with a wink.
Meanwhile, Danny had rented this gorgeous apartment on the Upper East Side and invited Rusty and Debbie to move in. He had lots of money tucked away from his last so-called endeavor, which involved some complicated wheeling and dealing around an expensive piece of art. Debbie wondered what he planned to do next, but he never let her know until he had it all worked out. So here they stayed, in the lap of luxury, until the gears started moving again.
Debbie had moved into the apartment in November, on the condition that she got the master bedroom with the en-suite. She didn’t want to share a bathroom with the boys. Danny had reluctantly agreed. To say thanks, she bought Danny a beautiful Brioni suit and had it delivered when she moved in. He loved it and said it was a perfect fit, and she thought, of course it is. An Ocean would never miss details like that.
So she settled into the beautiful life here, and spent a few thousand on gorgeous designer clothes for herself for Christmas, and took herself out for lovely meals at any time of day. She indulged in the fantasy of being a rich New Yorker, but she always felt a little left out. Danny and Rusty were best friends and perfect partners in all their illegal ploys. They had an absolute trust in each other and sets of skills that complemented one other. Their cons and heists were inevitably successful, and Debbie knew it wouldn’t be long before they pulled off something truly huge. Debbie just wished that she had a friend like Rusty; then she wouldn’t have to sit on the sidelines quite so much.
Living with them was fun, if a little heavy on the testosterone. Debbie walked past them now and over to the kitchen island, leaning on it and smiling as she watched the two boys playing their dumb video game, laughing and elbowing each other. The weather outside was terrible; the forecast called for snow and high winds in New York all weekend. Danny and Rusty had made a plan to stay in for the weekend and order in whatever they felt like: fancy booze, high-quality weed, expensive food, and so on. It was a Saturday, so they had managed to entice over a few friends to come by later to play some poker, and they’d have everything that anyone could want right here. “Nobody wants to go to the club on a night like this,” Rusty had said. “So we’re bringing the club to us.”
Of course, Debbie knew that it was as much a subtle con as it was a friendly boys’ night: by plying their friends with cognac and sushi and bong hits, Danny and Rusty would inevitably win the poker night too, probably after convincing their friends to buy in a couple more times after they busted out; 500 bucks here, 1000 bucks there, and so on. They’d be having so much fun that their so-called friends probably wouldn’t even notice or care how much money they’d lost until the next day. Debbie also knew that if any of them were even mad about it, Danny would charm his way out of that too.
Danny’s house always wins, Debbie thought.
The kitchen counter behind her was already full of expensive bottles of alcohol, almost every type that Debbie could imagine. It had arrived a little earlier that afternoon. Danny and Rusty were now waiting on their weed delivery, and later the catered food would come, just before their friends showed up. Debbie didn’t really care to play poker herself, but she enjoyed watching as long as things didn’t get too ugly. She also knew that the food was going to be amazing; Danny always ordered the best. Maybe this will actually be fun, she thought. If the weed gets here soon, I’ll smoke a joint in the bath before I get ready.
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Danny had already paid off the doorman that morning to let up anyone who gave a specific password with no questions asked. Danny would rather pay money for something than be inconvenienced in any way. Debbie would consider such silliness to be wasteful if she wasn’t familiar with how easily money both came and went in Danny’s life.
Danny was busy pummeling Rusty in their video game, so he turned quickly to Debbie with a pleading look in his eye.
“Open the door, will you Debs? It’s just the delivery boy.”
Debbie rolled her eyes, but pushed herself up from the kitchen counter to go open the door. Whoever this delivery boy is, he’d better not hit on me. One of the booze delivery men from earlier had given her a pretty gross up-and-down stare when he arrived, and Debbie had heard him whisper something about her ass under his breath to his colleague when she walked them into the kitchen. Debbie had left the room in a huff and let Rusty deal with it. In your dreams, asshole.
Debbie shuddered and hoped this wouldn’t be more of the same infuriating, sexist bullshit. She walked down the hallway to the foyer, undid the deadbolt and swung the heavy door inwards.
“Hey…” she began casually, but whatever Debbie was going to say next got stuck in her throat.