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It's a good life: money enough to maintain a designer wardrobe and the skills to add to the wardrobe for free as often as possible.
Nice places to live more often than not, and even in the flops the benefits of being the only woman in a crew of gentlemen (and Danny) are clear: always her own room, and usually the best one unless she persuaded Albie to take it. And less fighting over the bathroom than in any shared flat she'd had with girlfriends.
But oh, God, the testosterone.
It can get exhausting, beating Danny off with a stick. He's incorrigible, and utterly naice in a way that should be wrong for a grifter, but somehow just makes him irksomely cute.
Lesson number 827, Danny Blue: you will never win a game of strip poker.
But when Danny gets into one of his jealous snits, and the pedestal Albie and Mickey have her on makes her restless; when she and Ash are left behind the scenes, or when she has to cozy up to yet another sweaty, arrogant bastard and play girfriend: that's when she dreams things were different.
She wonders sometimes about heading her own crew: women grifters, she knows a few. And you'd need a Danny-eager boy or two to keep up appearances.
But it wouldn't work, not running the long con. Not in the City, with the business types who are more comfortable with Mickey than they'll ever be with her stepping out of a tea-making role.
Besides, it's a good life. Clothes, security, adventure, admirers. What more could she want?