Skarlet Parker: The Twisted Snakes

Blonde wig, short red dress, red stilettos and a red leather purse. Skarlet was preparing for a party; well, more like a job. Her target was a nonce in London; before she left she quickly called her friend.

“Hey Mike." Said Skarlet.
“Hey babe” Said a croaky, male Californian voice.
“Don’t call me that” said Skarlet giggling, resistinghis natural Irish-Californian charm, he was in most cases one of those guys who could make any woman eat out of the palm of his hand, if he wished it. Skarlet could easily resist most men for the simple loathing she felt for them, yet Michael McDonough was a soft spot for her, he'd done so much; he was kind of like a brother to her.
“Sorry, yano, I didn't manage to get a girl last night and well..” Said Mike, cutting off as though he'd explained all in a incomplete sentence. She put it down to him being tired, he wasn't the most upfront of men, but his syntax and grammar were seldom wrong.
“Why don’t you call your family? I’m sure they’re missing you. You know your mother-” Said Skarlet
“Always worrying." She didnt have to be in the same room as him to know with that came an eye roll, Mike was in his twenties and had moved out of his home in California over a year ago, his mother hadnt changed. "Yeah I would by, yano? They really piss me off, I love them but…”
“Yeah.” Said Skarlet, she actually had said it all.
“How’s London?” asked Mike.
“Wet, miserable what’s not to love?” asked Skarlet sarcastically.
“Missing the good old US?” asked Mike.
“Oh no what could possibly give you that idea?” asked Skarlet before taking a quick swig of Tizer.
He laughed at her wry sarcasm, always the same. He often found it hard not to laugh at her comments, they were almost designed to make him laugh.“What’s your job tonight?”
“A nonce by the name of Luke Crone” said Skarlet.
“OK just be careful” Like a broken record, it was about the millionth time he had said that.
“Oh Mike I've been doing this since I've been thirteen, surely you know I’m a professional, besides, since when did you care anyway?” Said Skarlet, a small chuckle was accompanied by the obvious sound which happened when she sharpened her beloved knife collection. Mike had given her them for Christmas a few years ago. She loved them and had told him so a million times, even expressing her wish to be buried with them should she ever be unfortunate enough to die... one day. She didn't love due to them being custom made but for the fact that they were the first ever Christmas presents she’d received. Ever. The truth can be sad, but dont spend the time to cry over it, since then she'd got Christmas presents every year.
“You know I care, duh” said Mike, the duh he sometimes added often convinced her he was homosexual, at the very least bisexual, which often got her mind wandering places it sometimes shouldn't, like asking him if his boyfriend came over when she wasn't around, that's when she heard a door close on his end, she resisted, and hid her laugh. "Mike darling, regret as I might, I have to go." She was packing the knives into her red leather bag as she spoke.
'Oh, alright. Cya Skarlet."
Skarlet... His was of detaching himself from her, she knew the way well. A status thing she'd assumed. He was after all, older and not related to her. She had no idea how he saw her, as a friend? as a sister? a daughter?.... A girlfriend? She almsot laughed at the last one thinking of the door and his probably homosexuality. Was she convincing herself? Probably. She disocnnected the call and double checking she had all in check:
- Knives (Check)
- A picture of one Luke Crone. (Check)
- Cyanide - just in case. (Check)
She looked in the mirror; her make-up was flawless as always, her dress provocative and her skin smooth to the touch. She would always get the love of the drooling guys when she went out and the look of envy from every jealous woman. Fine by her, their jealous meant so little, as for the men? Her intention was never to give them their desires, oh hell no. She walked out of the hotel; the weather was cold but dry, a change for England. She waved down a taxi, as she got in and ordered the driver to her location of 'The Aqua Palace.' Her phone beeped, she pulled it out there was a text from Mike.

‘Good Luck x’

She smiled, Mike always made her smile whether it was a simple joke or it was a song he written and performed on his guitar, always privately in his room or in the kitchen when he didnt know she was around, never in front of her. She always heard always remembered, always smiled. He was a great musician, a great singer with a real lack of confidence. A shame..
“You’re not from here are you?” asked the taxi driver.
“Nope Oregon USA” Said Skarlet she didn't mention Atlanta, not purely becuse she wanted to forget about it, but because what business was it of his anyway? The less people who knew, the better. Still the unsqaushable feeling of hatred, the unegotiated need for revenge always came back when she thought of her past. Mike's mother (a trained Clinical Psychologist had said it was perfectly normal, she'd get over it. The woman could not have been more right, it's just the method Skarlet would use was not one she would approve of.) The taxi drove to The Aqua Palace, she observed London people her age getting drunk, fights starting in take-away’s and younger teenagers hanging outside supermarkets smoking and drinking. She noticed the driver continuously looking at her through the mirror. Skarlet eventually got to The Aqua Palace. She stepped out.
“That’s £30 love” said the Taxi driver. She handed him the money, an amount Mike would likely have complained about, he didnt pay more than $20 for anything, let alone closer to forty for a cab. He'd have driven, oh the luxuries of owning a car, even if it was a Chevy.
“Have a nice night” said the driver before driving off, his foot a little too heavy on the accelorater, she didn't blame him, but laughed all the same.
She looked at the venue it was new, though donned the archtectural appearance of an Ancient Greek Palace. White marble, exotic looking with palm trees (note: Imported), fountains, with blue lights around the bottom, and white spot lights to light up the front, the entire look screamed 'I'm rich, please rob or assassinate me.' It would be a pleasure. She entered to people, young and old (though to her all old) to people dancing to some
God awful music from twenty years ago.
“Champagne?” asked a middle aged male who clearly didn't enjoy his job.
“No thanks” said Skarlet trying to put on a British accent and quite clearly failing at it. Acting, clearly her thing. The man offered a skeptical glance, something she'd earned and then nodded his appreciation and walked off, asking the next person. She walked to the bar.
“Yes what can I get you?” asked a young brunette woman who put on a posh voice, faked.
“A sparkling water please” said Skarlet.
The bartender gave Skarlet a champagne glass, the water inside,Skarlet glanced at it, disbelief in her eyes, she hated when rich people over did things - water in champagne glass? Over done it. She sat on a white leather sofa, gaining the attention of men and women alike, her darling smile, her seductive eyes, she offered an occasional finger chew, firstly to draw more attention, make it appear she was flirting whilst demonstrating both her dominance to the women and her ignorance to the men. She looked up and noted as Luke Crone entered the room, dressed overly formally and clearly making the statement of ownership, he fitted her description of him perfectly; there was no mistake. He was five foot seven with thick brown hair and eyebrows, wearing a suit that matched his hair, read hideous. She sighed, old rich people, how she loved mocking them, they made it so easy. She pictured Mike's reaction, the room would be staring as he cried with laughter. She looked up as Mr Crone took the stage, speaking loudly to the crowd.
“Thank you all for coming, let’s celebrate my friends” He said with a middle aged woman beside him, his arm wrapped slightly, loosly and far from tenderly around her, despire her clear attractiveness, her deep blue eyes, light skin, the long black curly hair and the long legs of a super model, something she'd clearly been in her younger years; all was not good in the land of domestic bliss, Skarlet would register her bets with him being unfaithful. He began to greet some of his ‘friends’, most of whom he probably didnt know the name of. After a short while of deliberate manipulation, Skarlet caught his attention.
“Who are you my lovely rose?” He said sitting besides her putting his glass of champagne on the table.
“I’m Skarlet” Skarlet replied.
As was predictable, his attention was drawn purely to her chest, until a middle aged man earned his attention, only momentarily, her time to strike. She dropped the cyanide in his drink and encouraged him to follow her upstairs, the drink followed them, he drank slowly, glancing at it.
“Does your wife know that you’re flirting with another woman?” asked Skarlet.
“What she doesn't know can’t hurt her” said Luke, a smile on his face, it only grew as she sat on his bed. He took the opportunity as she'd hoped, his hand on her thigh slowly moving up. His other hand holding the glass he finished the drink, the glass fell from his hand and the grip loosened on her leg. The poor guy was able to make a pathetically successful attempt to climb onto his bed and lay down before his breaths dtopped.
She'd left the palace five minutes later, back in the rain she walked back to the hotel, she looked in the mirror, eye liner streams on her cheeks, her foundation smuged, her wig skewed and knotted - this had been an amazing night. She showered and lay sleepy in the hotel bathrobe. She used her IPhone which was cased in a Harley Quinn case, again a present from Mike and text just that guy:

I'll be back tomorrow. xxx

She fished out her Pikachu onzie (yet another present) and combed her red hair before climbing under the covers and falling asleep.