January 14, 2011
Free write: Use the following words: mascara, lipstick, strap, heel, and run.
TW: guns, blood, death, forced kiss (I know–seems contradictory with the “good mood” part, but humor me. My best stuff usually involves someone dying.)
Her heart pounded in her ears as she re-applied her mascara. Her vision blurred for a moment. Was this really happening? She felt like her ragged breathing could be heard from a mile away. The bathroom was cold and quiet. It was clean, the kind of clean a swanky place like this would make it for this kind of event, even more so than normal. The kind of clean that hid secrets. She briefly imagined someone using some sort of poison to wipe down all the sink handles. Her hand shaking, she tucked a small bit of loose auburn hair behind her ear and checked her other ear to make sure that the device was securely hidden. Just as she was about to lean on the sink for support, she pulled herself back cautiously. She couldn’t be too careful. She slipped the lipstick tube out of her purse and tried to apply the crimson make-up to her lips. Placing it back into her little purse, she checked to make sure it was on the right side, next to the other tube. The moment seemed too much like a scene in a really creepy horror movie, her breath belying her fear.
The woman closed her eyes and tried to focus. She had to get out of there—and fast. Adjusting her dangly silver earring, she turned her feet in their not-so-dainty strappy heels toward the door of the restroom. This was it. She twisted and fully faced the door and tugged at her absurdly short dress for the last time. Not only did it barely cover her butt, it even had a slit in it that tantalizingly revealed even more of her thigh. The silver sparkles on the dress reflected onto her perfectly manicured fingernails. She checked the straps one last time, to make sure they weren’t twisted. And she couldn’t help but look down at her cleavage—she was unable to remember the last time she had shown anywhere near that much. It felt like a new low, but she also knew that was what she needed in order to not be noticed. The more she tried to stand out and be noticed, the more she would fit in. Her golden bracelets quietly clanked together. Taking another deep breath, she stepped forward, feeling the straps of her shoes shifting slightly, grasped the door handle, and swung it open.
The trick was to seem tipsy but not drunk. Seeming drunk would just be asking for the men to climb all over each other for a look … and a phone number, and judging by these people, something a little—rather, a lot—more. Her wavy ponytail bounced behind her as she walked, and she looked around at the crowd. She was blending in perfectly. Now just to get out of there.
“Heyyyyy, it’s Oliviiiaaaa!” a voice called a little too loudly.
Not a head turned her way—shouting people’s name was the norm in this room. The flashing lights almost kept her from seeing that it was her new acquaintance Joshua. He squeezed his way through the crowd, briefly reminding Olivia of a pickpocket. He squeezed her shoulder, saying, “Hey, I’m glad you could make it. Didn’t you say you had a family thing going on today?”
She smiled weakly and shook her head. “No, it got cancelled at the last minute,” she lied. Her dad really was counting on her; she was the best agent he had.
Joshua pulled her into a full hug, and she felt the two tubes in her purse clacking against each other. She gripped the purse a little more tightly. “Do you, uh, do you want something to drink? I can… you know, get you something if you’re… you know, thirsty or something…”
Olivia shook her head again. “No, thanks. I’m, uh, on my way to talk to the boss about something, actually.”
“Oh, well, then do you want me to walk you there?” He seemed far too eager to help her out.
A small chill ran through her veins. “No, I’m … I’ll be perfectly … fine…” She found herself locked in his gaze, her lips slightly parted, too dazed to breathe through her nose. He had a strange look in his eye, like he was about to kiss her for no reason.
“I should… I should get going.” She looked down, hoping he couldn’t see her mild blush. She knew something was up, but that kind of attention flustered her.
Olivia suddenly picked up on the sweaty stench that seemed to already be coming from some of the guests. It had gotten even more crowded in just the past few minutes. The bodies were beginning to crowd her. This was too close for comfort—she needed to leave, quickly.
The bomb pushed itself to the center of her thoughts. She nearly tripped on her way toward the door, and Joshua caught her elbow gently. “You all right there?”
“I’m- I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she said as she stumbled to squish herself between two dancing people’s backs.
Her heels squished in the carpet—smelled like someone spilled their liquor. She finally made it out the giant door, and as she pushed the metal bar, she was reminded of her old high school gym’s exit, a place she had gone through often for all the fire alarms they’d had.
She leaned against the cool bricks in the chilled night air. All she could see in the sky was the faint glow of the moon; there was a foamy blanket of clouds covering everything overhead, and there would have been too much light pollution from the building and the parking lot lights to see anything anyway. Olivia tugged at her earring; she wasn’t used to wearing these dangly kinds. She couldn’t wait to just sit down at home and kick off these shoes. But there was still work to be done.
The woman pushed herself from the wall and began to walk around the building searching for the right entrance. She only had one shot to do this—there was no room for error.
Just as she rounded a corner, she heard soft footsteps falling behind her. She turned her head slightly to see who was following. Joshua. Of course. But he’d lost that gleam in his eyes, that mischievous glint she had seen all too often in the short time they’d known each other.
“What are you doing.” It wasn’t a question.
“Just getting some fresh air before I go talk to the boss,” she easily lied.
“I thought it was fairly urgent?” he asked, but his voice indicated he knew that she wasn’t going to talk to the boss at all.
“Yeah, but I’m really nervous… It sounded pretty—”
“Cut the crap, Olivia. I know who you are, and I know what you’re doing.”
Joshua punctuated his sentence by grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing her up against the wall. He stood very close to her to ensure that she couldn’t get away, his stance more than a little intimidating.
Her blood grew hot as it coursed through her, her eyes watering slightly. She could feel her ears growing red as determination rose within her. Olivia’s hands were free, so she groped at the top of her thigh for the knife she had hidden on a small strap. She gripped the handle loosely and suddenly drew it, angling it at the man’s throat. “You can’t stop me,” she hissed.
She used her free hand to try and shove him away, and the abruptness of the action surprised him enough that he moved slightly backward, giving her enough leeway to scootch out of his arm prison and run a few steps. The woman stood facing him, still holding the knife to his neck. The man took his arms and wrapped them around her, pulling her in close for an aggressive kiss. But that was when she felt it—something metal was shoved up against her stomach. It was round, like the end of…
Before she could complete the thought, a muffled shot rang out. She now lay limp in his arms, the blood spilling out of her like tears of grief. He took his fingers and gently closed her eyelids. The man looked down at the woman almost fondly and smiled as he watched her lifeblood pouring out and pooling into a dark puddle on the ground.