Chapter 6: Let's go on a date
I was debating about 'looting' them, but they actually had a witness here. Turning my 'justified self-defense' into 'robbery', didn't sound enticing right now. They also didn't look all that well-off anyway.
Right, the girl. I hastily looked around, checking if she decided to bolt away with my groceries. Not that her heels would allow running far away fast enough. She stood in the same spot I left her, completely rooted in place. I could see her eyes darting from Dick lying on the ground to Harry trying to swallow the brick, and, finally, to yours truly. As soon as her gaze met mine, though, she trembled and even tried to back away a bit. Ah, right, my facial expression. I felt my smirk growing a bit.
With every unhurried step I took towards the girl, she was looking more and more jumpy. Am I really that scary in her eyes? Even though, this time around, there was no blood dripping from my fists? What is her problem? Damn, this girl really was my worst nightmare. Something inside of me desperately craved more of her fear. I shrugged off the empty thoughts. Not this time, fate!
"Hey, thanks for your help by the way." I said to her and reached out my hand to take back my stuff. She actually shuddered!
"I'm s-s-sorry. It was all their idea. I just needed money," said the girl with an audible tremble in her voice. "Please, don't hurt me."
Wow, that was some remarkable self-snitching. If she just kept her silence, I would've had no idea about her involvement in this whole debacle. From an uninformed person perspective, she was just another potential victim here. That's why I always hated to work with amateurs…
"Listen. I know that in your current state, you won't really believe me if I just soothed you with empty words," I said to the cowering girl. "So I won't. Let me put it into perspective. I'm bored. Enough to get involved with a sketchy looking prostitute, who couldn't even play her role in a convincing way. But, from my point of view, hurting you doesn't look all that entertaining right now."
I paused, trying not to laugh at my own lie. My opinion notwithstanding, this load of crap seemingly worked. She looked a bit calmer now, though with this wall of paint marring her face, it was hard to tell for sure.
"But I'm not a charitable person either. Let's cut a deal. Entertain me. Do a good job and I will pay you ten times more than what you asked. Fail and… well, nothing really, I will just pay you three hundred, and we will forget we ever met each other. Win-win." I finished with a trademark salesman smile.
The chick looked at me with a blank gaze, utterly dumbfounded. I guess, whatever she expected to hear, it wasn't a poorly disguised proposition to actually buy her for a night. Eh, I mean, she is hot, and no one ever called me a good person twice, so it is what it is.
Waiting for her response, I fished my smartphone from the hoodie's pocket. Just to look at the time, of course. Oh, and to check the maps to get a route straight home, my frozen stuff was already on the brink. I didn't pay attention to the messenger, 'no new messages' by the way, not at all. Fuck.
"So, where to now? Your place? That hotel you mentioned earlier?" She finally came to a decision.
I put my phone back into the pocket, and put some thoughts into her question. Not going to lie, sex with someone this attractive should've been a very tempting prospect. But, for some reason, it just felt so lacking. I played back our earlier brief interactions. Yeah, I really wasn't all that hyped about fucking some half-assed hooker impersonation. In fact, even if it was just for a brief moment, I wanted to see more of the 'true' her. I wanted more of that spoiled girl. Even if it was only my own delusion. Even if it was just a thin-veiled lie. At least it would help me stall my boredom. Temporary as it was.
"Hm. My place, so I can finally drop this," I said, gesturing towards my groceries. "And get a change of threads. Then somewhere else. Night is so young, let's go on a date. Hahaha."
She looked at me with a strange expression. Well, stranger than usual, fucking war-paint. I almost could read, 'The fuck is this madman talking about?' in her eyes.
"On a date?" her unsure question followed.
"Yes. On a date." I nodded back, as if stating the obvious.
"As in a date, date? Same date they use to describe a lover's outing?" Confusion in her tone seemed to grow even larger.
"Yep. You and me. Random nightclub. Loud music. Overpriced cocktails with silly names. Empty conversations. Maybe some dancing. Perhaps getting mock jealous over some random unlucky bastard paying too much attention to you, and throwing a scene. Sounds fun, right?" I felt my face being stretched by a smile, a genuine one this time, no numbers attached.
"Why?" She didn't sound very convinced.
"Why not?" I shrugged. "I'm bored, and I think you are hot. I'm not in the mood to just use you like a doll, either. And I want to see you dance. Enough reasons for you?"
I could see her care-o-meter finally exploding, and she just gave up.
"Fine. Let's go on your 'date'," she muttered in a defeated tone.
***
It was quiet. There was no common topic to talk about. Neither of us knew much, if anything, about each other. And surrounding scenery wasn't something to write home about as well. So, here it was, the only natural outcome - the awkward kind of silence. The only sound that broke it was the clicking sound of her heels. At least she didn't run away. Yet.
This was a rather surprising outcome, if you ask me. What I was expecting was a barrage of questions, some sort of emotional outburst even. But the girl was keeping her cool much better than I thought. At least outwardly. Whatever was actually going on inside her head, though, only she knew.
My curiosity won over my indifference, and I glanced back over my shoulder, to see what she was cooking up behind my back. Eh, actual reality was, as usual, the most boring explanation. She was busy with her smartphone. Tapping something, scrolling, silently cursing under her breath now and again. Whatever it was, it wasn't just casual chatting with someone.
"Something interesting?" I decided to break the silence at last.
"Hm?" followed a noncommittal answer.
"Your phone." I clarified.
"Ah. Nothing in particular, just looking at nightclubs. Prices, photos, reviews and rumors. Usual stuff," said my date for tonight.
I slowed my pace, falling back to her side, taking a look at the screen of her phone. It was just what she said, a review of a club, with plenty of photos from the inside.
"Anything that caught your attention?" I was genuinely curious. While I had a place in mind for tonight, if she was interested in any other club, I wouldn't mind taking her there instead.
"I excluded a few places that my usual circle frequents. That would've been… one awkward meeting," she grimaced, and I nodded, agreeing with her assessment. "Other than that, not much, to be honest. There is one place where my favorite DJ will play tonight, but it's pretty popular as it is on a bad day. Too much hassle to get inside."
"What's the name of the place?" If my memory was correct, over the last four years, I should've gotten pretty well-connected in the club scene. Favors here, relations there. If it was some place I knew, it wouldn't be that hard to make sure my date will enjoy her night a bit more.
"'Afterlife'." I heard the reply.
Huh, what a coincidence. Bella's place, the very same I had in mind. Didn't she name it after the bar she saw in some space opera?
"Won't be a problem." I assured her.
For the nth time today, I took my phone from the pocket of my hoodie. PIN. Messenger. No new messages, by the way. Fuck. Scrolling through the contact list. Bella. Open.
I read the last few messages, trying to remember how long it was since we had a… heated argument about the nature of our relationship last time. The most recent message was a selfie of mostly naked Bella, making out with an equally clothed vaguely familiar girl (Lucy? Lisa? Her new 'assistant' at the time.) on a beach, with a timestamp of three weeks ago. Three weeks, hm, should be long enough for her to return. I scrolled up a few more times. A week extra since our disagreement. A month total. A bit too soon, but I can work with it.
To say the least, things between us were fairly complicated. Both of us had issues with commitment at large, and clashing personalities in the questions of who was the dominant side. Sex was fantastic, but the frequency of arguments negated this aspect a lot. Still, at the very least, she was an important client, so I kept in contact with her. She asked for a lot, but the payoff was worth it.
Me: [sup. mind if I drop by tonight?]
Bella: [Business?]
Me: [half-and-half]
Bella: [Worth?]
Me: [not a phone talk]
I waited for her answer. Weird. It didn't usually take her so long. In questions of business, she was quick to answer, albeit not so wordy. My phone pinged again.
As an answer, I got another selfie from Bella. She was in her office, fully docked in the usual office suit. White blouse, black pencil skirt, black stockings. She was sitting in her office chair, her desk was full of your normal paperwork. The unusual part was, as usual, hidden in details. The angle, this photo was taken at, revealed what was under her desk. Well, more like, who was under her desk. The same old assistant had her face buried under Bella's skirt.
Bitch, please. Couldn't you just write it with words? I sighed internally. What she meant by this photo, if I still could read her meanings accurately, was: 'I'm still angry at you, but it was just long enough since then to open a dialogue. I'm at my place and will meet you. But I am still angry.' Yes, she was still angry indeed.
Me: [gotcha]
Me: [not alone, so pass a word to the security]
Me: [cya in an hour or so]
"And done," I said to my current company. "There won't be a problem with getting inside."
The rest of the way was spent having small talk. I mostly just listened, as the girl kept gushing about the DJ, about how good reviews of this place are and how she will brag about this to her friends. You know, for some reason, I didn't find that annoying or boring at all. It was, in fact, the exact thing I wanted from her. How strange.
Weekly Power Status
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