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The Life of a Vampiric Hitman (or The Hit) No. 2
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 Created on 10-9-07
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For once, I am on time as I walk up to the front of the Palacade, which is exactly the opposite of what I want to do. This high end club lives up to its name. Are you rich? Famous? Powerful? Infamous? This place would make you cream your panties.
I stand at the base of the gray marble staircase and look up at the gilded entrance. You can taste the glitz and glamour. Let me tell you, it is a bitter taste at best. A lady sheathed in a mink fur coat and stilletos breezes past me, and I catch a whiff of expensive perfume and even mor expensive tastes. I see an anklebiter resting on one jewel encrusted arm. I shake my head in disgust. Ah, well, I think. I adjust my red silk tie and smooth down the black cotton dress shirt I had just purchased. I then check my black jeans for lint, made sure my matte black wingtips were still tied, and slip off my black leather bomber jacket, draping it over one arm. I adjust my silver ring and my Rolex watch, then tie back my long black hair with a red string, tieing it shut with a bow.
Okay, ready to advance into the decadence of the Palacade. This had better be good, or I am going to knock Lorenzo Fuentes through the fucking roof.
Lorenzo Fuentes is my "boss", for lack of better words. He handles my contracts and whatnot. Simply put, I am a hit man. A death merchant, a killer for hire, a mercenary if you will. My weapon of choice? My teeth.
I spot Fuentes, who seems to be enjoying the company of two bar bunnies. It helps his cause that he is rich, and can afford the rates these call girls ask. He's also a smooth talker, like I can be when I want. But I have something he does not, and the bunnies sense it right away. Let's call it "charm". Soon, they are all over me, and Fuentes is not looking happy. I push the girls away and go over to his table, pull a chair out, and sit down directly across from him. I fold my hands and smile, knowing he wants what I got. Looks, attitude, and charm. Ha. I had to die to get this, bitch. I feel like I am going to be sick, surrounded by all of this human . . . i don't know, vice and avarice. Yuck. Fuentes smiles back, but there is no mirth in the way his twisted lips curl. This bastard is a predator, just like me. He just plays the game a little differently.
"Bold as always, Mr. Cole."
I snort derisively. "You think I'm bold, Fuentes?" I look around for emphasis. He only folds his hands, his elbows on the glass table. His dark grey suit does a bad job of concealing his gun and his bulk. I shake my head.
"This had better be good, Fuentes. I have an appointment at midnight, and you disrupted my meal."
Fuentes laughs. "Of course it's good, Mr. Cole. If it wasn't, I wouldn't have called you." He reaches beneath the table, and I flash my fangs as warning. "Relax." His hand appears again, but holding a manila folder. I detect a slight tremor in his hand as he slides it to me. Good, one lesson learned tonight. I take the folder and slip in under my coat on my lap.
"All the information you need is in there. Do with it what you will. One million cold hard American currency. Avoid the headlines. But you are good at that, aren't you?"
I nod once and stand. Fuentes raises his hands placiatingly. "Aren't you going to stay for a drink?" The girls have returned. The smile I give the death broker could freeze flame. "No."
"Why not?"
"I don't like the clientelle. Too thin-blooded. Goodbye." And I walk away.
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On October 9th 2007 Jacquelyn2008 Said : | |
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gettin better. keep it up |
