Second attempt. =p
I laughed, fingering the beautiful array of gems in the palms of my hands, rubbing my forefingers over their smooth surfaces. I looked back at the jewelry store, the cops buzzing around the broken glass I had effortlessly popped out of its frame. At the sobbing store owner, who was on her knees with her head in her plump hands. The corners of my lips turned up of their own accord as I thought of how these idiotic recruits would never trace the evidence back to me.
Typical.
But how can I blame them? I was just that good. I stashed the precious stones in the midnight black pack on my shoulders and stood on the thin pole that held a bright, yellow sign declaring tomorrow as the New Year’s Annual Cooking contest. I tossed my auburn curls over my shoulders and turned on my heel. I bent down, let the energy store in my calves, and unfurled my body into the lush, cool air. My hands, covered in ugly scratches and scars from years of my trade, wrapped around another thin pole about five feet away with the same flag as the one now behind me and pulled myself onto the ledge of the local grocery store.
I balanced on the balls of my feet, tip-toeing carefully across the building shrouded in darkness, the jewelry store having leeched the light for its own purposes. Like catching me. I stopped at the opposite side of the concrete roof and leaned over slightly, eyeing the cars settled soundlessly on the sides of the streets. It was only three in the morning, and on any normal day teens would have been driving around drunk as could be. But tonight anyone on the road would have to deal with some serious chewing out, so people kept off the streets. All because of ‘lil ‘ol me.
I grinned and gripped the cold steel of the ladder beneath my feet and quietly slid down to the alley that housed drug dealers and card-board boxes that doubled as homes for scraggly, old, pathetic people. My feet hit the dirty, grimy concrete and I couldn’t help grimace at the thought of the bacteria swarming around my shoes.
Disgusting.
I made my way towards the back of the alley, swatting at the hands begging for money. I kicked my foot out, looking for my black duffel bag and managed to kneel by the side of it without placing my knees on the dirt. I unzipped the bag and picked through the throwing knives and daggers for my delicate, dainty, ruffled dress.
I dragged it out by the back, the tip of one of multiple daggers snagging the sleeve. I narrowed my eyes in the darkness and tried to discern the damage it had done, and to my knowledge, found only a small tear in the left sleeve, up by the shoulder. Shedding my black tights and sweater, I stepped into my dress and fitted on some blue ballet flats, laying my clothes carefully over my weapons.
I stood and hefted the weight of my bag onto my right shoulder, slumping slightly underneath the weight of it at first. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin as I pushed my way through the dark. Stepping out of the alley, I managed to make my way down Rock Avenue without getting noticed. My dress played in the wind as if it didn’t give a damn about flashing the men and prostitutes on the street, and it was all I could do to clutch the fabric angrily and hold it to my thighs.
“’Scuse me miss, may I have a minute?” I started at the deep throaty voice of a man that had managed to slip behind me and keep up with my fast pace. I worked my molars and turned to the man, forcing my muscles to oblige my commands and smile.
“Just trying to get home after a long day of dance, sir.” I said as politely as I could. I hefted my duffel bag a bit higher. The metal in my bag shifted and groaned, and I was tempted to wince but knew that giving up the control of my appearance would break me. The man looked at my duffel bag curiously and scratched at the ragged, unkept mustache above his lip.
“What’cha got in there little lady?” The man kept his eye on my bag and rubbed at his loose blue jeans that hung from his thin hips. I turned on my heel then, not wanting a confrontation. I walked a few feet but that was all the man would tolerant because his beefy, sweaty palm reached out and made a grab at the straps on my shoulder.
My temper flared as I turned and shoved my palm flat against his chest, hard. He stumbled back, obviously surprised at the strength that coiled in my arms and legs. He recovered quickly though and yanked up his pants before he made a grab at me. I twisted out of his reach when he lunged and brought my hand down against his back. He was off-balance enough to tumble to the rough graphite. Not wanting to take any chances, I bent down and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him up, and delivered a swift blow to his right temple.
I pushed the toe of my shoe into his side a couple of times before proceeding to grab his legs and drag him backwards towards the alley. A frightened homeless man gathered up his box and shuffled out of the area while I made a small nest of newspapers to drop the man into. I stepped back and glared at him. “Stupid.”
I made my way back out onto the street and was soon at a pay phone. I slid three quarters into the designated slot and dialed the number of an old friend.
“Yo, Terrance speaking.”
“Dear Lord Terrance, I wish you would stop speaking like you were fifteen.”
“Haha, hey Lorelei! How’re the girls hangin’?”
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the cheap metal. “I need a ride.”
There was a slight pause before Terrance spoke again. “Where you at?”
I turned and eyed the brick pizza store on the corner. “Joe’s Pizza place. In uhm, Iowa.”
“What the fuck Lori? You want me to send a plane out to Iowa and pick you up, and you give me no prior knowledge?”
I crossed one arm over my chest and with my right hand held the phone to my ear. “Terrance, please. I’ll make it worth your time.”
Again, a pause. “It’d better be worth it Lorelei.” The line cut dead and I smirked, placing the phone on the receiver. Terrance tried to act like some bad-ass, but he really wasn’t as bad as he liked to appear.
