The Seventh Wave. Episode 33.

Episode 33

MIAMI. PHONE CALL. SPLIT SCREEN. ORPHAN AND JIMMY TWO DINNERS.         

Jimmy.

Orphan.

Got a minute?

Always.

A thing I don’t get.

About her. This is about her, am I right.

It still bugs me.

The business thing?

Pause.

It’s more than one thing, Jimmy.

So it’s two things.

Yeah. Two things.

Business and personal.

Right.

You wanna talk about the business thing?

Right. Business first, Jimmy.

Business before pleasure.

So. Here’s the thing. How’d she do it?

The heist?

That’s right, Jimmy. Yes, the fucking heist. Not her fucking hard-core Pilates routine. Not her fucking highly-regarded b.j. technique. Not her fucking freakishly skilled aptitude for fucking jigsaw puzzles. Not those things, Jimmy. Jesus. The fucking heist.

Okay. Take it easy, Orphan.

Palming the chips I can follow.

Sure.

She’s got crazy hand skills.

She’s an artist at the card table. She’s the Donatello of blackjack. She’s the Leonardo of the roulette wheel.

Jimmy, for fuck’s sake.

Okay. Okay. I like the Ninja Turtles. Sue me.