Rosie was used to events like this. The lights, the noise, the constant flashing of bulbs and people telling her to 'look over here!' She could do it in her sleep if she had to.

They weren't her favorite types of events. She had better places to be on that particular Monday in May but she had made a commitment, she had promised her old friend, Anna, that she would be there and be there she was.

At least that was the attitude she'd had until 48 hours previously.

Standing on the long red carpet that lined the steps leading up to the museum, Rosie was almost comfortable in her black oxfords and black slacks. The button-up shirt with a train that fell almost to her feet felt a bit overdone and she hadn't had her hair washed, blow-dried, and slightly curled, hanging down her back since the same event the year before. But she wasn't in heels, the jewelry was minimal and she had had to fight a make-up artist away to keep her from applying foundation. Rosie had been in worse situations.

A cry rose up a second after a black SUV pulled to the curb and Rosie's real reason for being there climbed out after his two bandmates.

Late Nights was dressed in coordinating velvet suit jackets, Nate's a deep teal that made his blue eyes pop. Rosie watched as he posed with his bandmates for a long moment then raced up the steps to meet her. He leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek as a greeting and the two of them stood together for only a moment before heading inside.

His exterior was a perfect blend of calm, cool, and collected. But his hand was trembling and he held onto Rosie's as if for dear life. It was a mere fraction of the complete panic Rosie had found him in when he showed up outside her hotel room door two nights before.

*

Rosie had flown into New York that Saturday morning and fell into bed as soon as she had let go of her suitcase handle. She was asleep before the door had swung shut. She was fresh from Japan and her body was still on Tokyo time, wide awake when someone knocked on her door at two in the morning.

Rosie smiled at the sight of her boyfriend standing out in the hall as she peaked through the peephole but the smile faded when she opened the door to Nate pulling at his hair, checking both sides of the empty hallway as if someone was following him. He looked a mess.

"Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were getting in tomor-"

"Rosie, thank goodness!"

Nate forgot his suitcase in his rush into the hotel room, wrapping his arms around Rosie, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn't return the embrace. He was trembling even then and worry started to flood Rosie's stomach.

"Nate, dude, what's going on? Are you okay? You look horrible!"

Nate finally let Rosie go so she could breathe and crossed the room to close the curtains that looked out on the city. He had forgotten his suitcase was still in the hall and so Rosie grabbed it before someone could steal it. Nate was pacing between the bed and the television when she reached him, his hand constantly pulling at his hair but Rosie didn't think he was aware of it.

Rosie grabbed his hand to keep him from pulling his hair out. Only then did he stop and look at her. It was as if he was noticing her for the first time, even though he had come to her hotel room, presumably seeking her, when Rosie knew he and his bandmates were staying at a hotel across town.

"Dude. Sit down. You're making me nervous."

Her pathetic attempt to lighten the mood hung heavy in the air. Nate only nodded in response and obeyed. His eyes seemed focus elsewhere, somewhere far from her hotel room.

"What's wrong? Is it the band? Felix? Your family?"

Nate shook his head at all her suggestions of things that could be dying or breaking apart. Before Rosie could start suggesting more things that could be causing such a panic, Nate finally spoke.

"Do you remember Kent?"

"Your horrible assistant, I-hate-that-guy-Kent, that Kent? Please tell me you finally fired him."

Again a swing and a miss. Nate looked like he was about to throw up when he nodded.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Rosie asked.

"I had an interview, just yesterday, with The Sun magazine. You know the editor-in-chef?"

"That sleazeball, Horace something or other."

"Horace Norman."

"Yeah, him. What about him?"

"He stopped by during the interview, wanted to say hi, he wasn't even the one interviewing me, just wanted to see how it was going."

Rosie nodded, trying to figure out how a rather routine part of their lifestyle was causing Nate to turn green.

"And..." she tried prompting. Nate had gotten that faraway look again.

"He asked to used the bathroom, just for a second. I said sure. He was back within a minute, I swear, and then he left right afterward. I didn't think anything of it. I should have."

Nate looked close to tears now and Rosie grabbed his chin so he would face her, finally look at her, return to the present.

"Nate, what happened with Horace?"

"He took it. He took the album. I don't know how but I have a nasty feeling Kent sold him the information that I had a copy, that I was keeping it in my desk. Horace took the next Late Nights album, Rosie. And it's our only copy."

It was Rosie's turn to turn green. She could feel bile rising in the back of her throat. This was every artist's worst nightmare. She knew how hard Nate and the band had been working on this next album. She knew how tight their security should have been, how hard they worked to keep the music just between those in the know. And now it was in the hands of a man known for having zero scruples.

This was bad. This was very bad.

"Did he try to contact you? Ask for money? Anything? Does he even know you know he has it?"

Rosie's grandfather was a cop in Brooklyn for over thirty years. The things he had tried to train her in when she was younger were suddenly bubbling to the top.Nate shook his head to all his questions.

"I don't think so. He's here, Rosie. He's in New York. He's supposed to be at the Gala on Monday. What are we going to do?"

There wasn't a question in Rosie's mind. She knew exactly what they had to do.

"We're gonna get it back. That's what we're going to do. But we're gonna need help."

*

Help sat across from them while neither Nate nor Rosie ate their food. The inside of the museum had been transformed with low lighting, elaborate decoration, even a live band, and dance floor. Rosie kept passing Nate rolls and the two of them spent the dinner hour tearing them apart, not even trying to eat.

Across from them, sitting, chatting with Nate's two band-mates, sat Nate's old friend, singer-songwriter, Felix. And sitting next to Felix was his date, the infamous music producer George Briggs.

George Briggs was really a twenty-six-year-old socialite named Georgiana Burns who had spent her career keeping her real job a secret. Rosie hadn't seen George since she had lived next door to her on in the Hamptons, the summer she had met Nate.

Rosie had called George that night Nate showed up at her hotel. It was an old number and there was a large chance it was no longer hers but George picked up after the second ring and Rosie could breathe again. Rosie explained everything and George was on-board, no questions asked. She was a producer, she understood the stakes.

George was the first person Rosie had made eye contact with when they entered the main foyer. She met Rosie's gaze with an intense stare, no wink, no nod, but in that look, Rosie knew everything was in place. George only broke eye contact to glance to her right but then just as quickly smiled back up at her date. Rosie followed where her eyes had flown and saw George's mass of a bodyguard standing in the shadows. He was staring somewhere else, his eyes locked on someone and when Rosie followed his gaze, she found Horace.

She wanted to wipe the smug smile off his face but knew she could only get close to him once that evening and that it would be her only chance.

Rosie and Nate had spent the whole day before the gala following Horace as he ran around town, going to this newspaper, to that publication, even stopping by a record label or too. Rosie couldn't stop thinking about what her grandfather would have done. She could have called him and asked for advice as he was happily retired and living in her family brownstone in Brooklyn but she was too busy keeping tabs on Horace.

By the evening they were discouraged. The flash drive hadn't once made an appearance. They couldn't even be sure he had it with him or if it was locked up in his safe back in London. Rosie had suggested breaking into his hotel and looking but Nate wanted to keep their crimes to misdemeanors only. Together, the two of them had crossed two oceans to be there, they couldn't risk getting arrested before they got the drive back.

Their luck caught just as they were about to give up. They were loitering down the block from Horace's hotel when he climbed out of his town car. He paused, for just a second, pulled something from his jacket pocket, rolled it around in his hand, and smiled like a snake about to pounce on his prey. It was the flash drive.

Nate and Rosie's only hope was Horace's paranoia forcing him to keep the flash drive on him at all times.

*

The dinner hour was over and people were starting to dance. George stood and held out her hand for her date. Felix rose without question and followed her out onto the dance floor. Rosie counted a minute in her head then followed them.

She had never lost sight of Horace throughout the night. And right now his sights were locked on George and Felix. Of course, they were.

George was a socialite infamous for her hatred of the public eye. George hadn't even walked the red carpet outside but instead entered the party through the back door. And now she was dancing, in the middle of the ballroom with Felix. Horace had the scoop of the century. He slowly left his spot along the wall and moved towards them.

It was time to strike.

Instead of heading for the dance floor, Rosie had to make a quick pit stop. She made her way to the host of the evening and greeted Anna with a kiss on both cheeks, laying her hand gently on her friend's wrist, taking her friend's priceless Cartier bracelet with her when she let go.Rosie knew her grandfather would hate her for using the pick-pocketing skills he had taught her as a kid on a friend but she also knew she had no other choice.

And she hoped Anna would understand. Anna was far from Horace's biggest fan and Rosie would have even gone so far as to say they were enemies. Anna had never gotten over Horace's attempt to steal her job when they both worked at the New York Times.

Anna had many other people to deal with and barely noticed her now empty wrist. She wouldn't for at least a few moments and so Rosie didn't have a moment to spare.

Horace was now standing on the sidelines of the dance floor, his eyes following George everywhere she moved. George met Rosie's eyes and Rosie returned the glare with a nod.

Action.

George stopped swaying. Her bodyguard, Andre, had, at some point in the evening, given Horace a glass full of red wine. He seemed to have completely forgotten it was still in his hand until George bumped his shoulder and set the red wine spilling down his front.

In high-pitched exclamations, George grabbed a nearby napkin and tried to clean up the spill, apologizing every second. Horace didn't seem too frustrated as he started asking George questions about her relationship in return, seizing the opportunity to get his scoop. His mind was far from the slight sensation of someone reaching into his jacket pocket.

The weight of the bracelet was slightly heavier than the flash drive but Rosie would be long gone before Horace noticed the difference.

As soon as Rosie started heading for the entrance, George gave up trying to clean up the spill. She left Horace without a word or comment, her hand tight in Felix's. Andre appeared right on time and tapped Horace on the shoulder. Horace had to look up to meet Andre's eye.

"Excuse me, sir, but Mrs. Wintour is looking for her missing bracelet. We're checking everyone. Could you please turn out your pockets?"

Nate was waiting for her at the exit when the protestations began. Rosie knew the instant Andre found the bracelet because Horace stopped talking. Anna was the next to speak as she started lecturing him on the criminal punishments tied to theft, talking over Horace as he started exclaiming that he had no idea where that had come from.Rosie smiled as she grabbed Nate's hand and they exited the museum. Their grip on each other was looser now, more relaxed as if to make space for a flash drive between their hands.

A/N:

This one is my personal favorite, which is hard to say since I love them all.

This one came right out of the blue, just appeared in my brain one morning while I was trying to figure out what I was going to write that morning.

I loved Ocean's 8. I thought it was such a fun movie with a very strong vibe and I've been fascinated with the Met Gala for as long as I could remember. I've always wanted to write a story set there so I was thrilled when this one came together.

And look! George and Felix! We know them!

How did you like this one?