13 Murders

Vanish

Seventeen

Vanish

“Are you sure he’s going to be here?” I ask Electra in a whisper as the two of us head to the entrance of the club. The music blasts from the doors and makes my head throb. The music is thumping my brain so hard I can barely walk, let alone deal with another dead end.

“Yes, I’m sure. Bastian said so.” Out comes the snappy tone of Electra’s voice. The blind faith she has in the man astounds me, considering the circumstances. You’d think a relationship consisting of a sociopathic killer and a dirty cop would be an untrustworthy one. Electra and I have been looking for Ricardo for days now, we need him to break Grace out of hospital. His plans are always elaborate and immaculately thought out. Electra has told me that he once broke out of jail by convincing the entire prison guard watch that he was a cleaner that had been mistaken for a prisoner, they released him from the prison with a police escort.

“Okay.” I agree with her. Tonight Electra picked the clothes we where. She thinks it’s important that we blend in by standing out. That is why we both wear red dresses, hers with a plunging neckline and long sleeves, mine close-fitting and knee-length. She’s presses her red lips together as we reach the doormen. One is a tall, burly man, the other a younger man around Electra’s age. He is broad-shouldered and smiles at the ladies brushing past him.

“We’ll go for that one, he’ll be easy to manipulate. This’ll be hard for you, you have to act sexy.” She orders in a whisper, leaning close to my ear. She’s grinning wildly. I nod obediently. This’ll be fun.  People push past us, getting nods from the two doormen. We cut right towards the young guy. He gives us a stubborn frown.

“Tickets?” He says. Electra steps into him and smiles.

“Is that tie and original? I’ve never seen one like it- it’s so unique, so- Collette, what is the word I’m looking for?” She says seductively in a French accent. She pulls as his tie and feels it between her fingers. I know what to do, on the way here, Electra taught me to say things in a French accent, luckily I’m a fast learner.

“Sexy.” I finish her sentence. I place a hand on my hip and smile at him. His eyes widen and flicker between the two of us. He is going a pink colour. We take a step closer to him and Electra puts her face close to his.

“We’re friends with the magician, close friends. We’re performers ourselves, we include him in our acts sometimes…Maybe we could be the same for you?” She continues, sliding her fingers up the tie. He goes red and Electra looks down, only to smirk. He redirects his eyes to me. I wink at him.

“This way ladies, and tell the barman that your tab is on me.” He says with a sleazy smile. Electra lingers close to him a little longer and then saunters past him, I follow. I cannot help but smile wildly, my cheeks hurting. I don’t want to admit it, but cheating your way into things with your psychotic cellmate is way more fun than it sounds. We make our way into the big lounge-like bar. The whole room is carpeted in glossy black and is lighted by fluorescent blue lights. Smoke oozes from the floor of the stage. Revealing women and suited men are draped all over the black leather chairs and sip drinks from their glasses on the coffee table. I think I see some of the people on television here, it’s pretty high-end, and we fit right in, at least on the outside.