Flimflam

Flimflam (n.) - a trick or deception, esp. A swindle or confidence game involving skillful persuasion or clever manipulation of the victim.

[CHAPTER ONE]

The snow tumbled in gentle flurries from the cold, grey sky. Melanie shoved her stiffening hands deeper into the pockets of her oversized black sweatshirt. The people of New York City bustled around her, caught up in their private worlds. Melanie shivered, trying to see through the mass of thick, black hair that blew across her face. Halfway to her aunt's apartment, she was regretting her decision to wear such a light jacket in the brutal November air.

Passing Café Luxembourg, she paused. Her aunt wasn't expecting her for a good twenty minutes and the café's warm interior called to her. Shivering violently, she ducked through the doorway after a long moment.

The cafe was relatively empty, quiet, and low-lit. Much to Melanie's relief, the heater was running loudly in the back. Two men sat in one corner, speaking in low, urgent voices. A couple sat by the outside wall, lip-locked and oblivious. A couple high school girls and a bored-looking man who looked to be in his thirties, all at the counter, completed the cast.

"Can I help you?" asked the man in his thirties, looking no less bored than he had before she'd entered. He was leaning against the counter, chin propped on the heel of his hand. Melanie got the impression it had been a slow day.

"Er...Just an Irish Coffee," Melanie replied uncomfortably. The man disappeared and Melanie slipped into a seat against the wall, her back to the debating men. Pulling a paperback textbook from her bag, she laid it on the table and began scanning through the details of blood spatter interpretation.

Before long, her coffee had arrived and Melanie was gulping it down distractedly, her mind fully absorbed by the differences between low- and medium-velocity spatter. The caffeine cocktail had been depleted before she knew it, much to her surprise. Tearing her eyes from the page, she blinked at the empty mug. Time to pay and go.

Turning away from the counter after paying the bill, Melanie found herself bouncing away from a firm surface--the chest of one of the corner men. His blue eyes narrowed at her from behind a veil of thick brown hair. Looking at him, Melanie felt as if she were struggling to breathe.

"S-sorry," she choked out, stumbling away.

The man's companion caught her with strong arms. "Just ignore him," he chirped, "Avery's always got a stick up his ass. I'm Nicholas."

Melanie melted into Nicholas's debonair smile. Her lips turned upward of their own accord, mirroring him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her instincts were screaming at her to run, but she couldn't even drag her eyes away. The warning bells were ignored.

"Melanie," she informed him, regaining her ability to speak, "Melanie Rhinehart."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," Nicholas remarked, his expression suave. Melanie screwed up her features in disgust at the cliché line. In her periphery, she spotted a similar expression on Avery's narrow face. Nicholas laughed heartily at their response.

"I'd better head out," Melanie interjected suddenly, glancing at the face of her watch, "my aunt is waiting for me."

"Where are you headed? If you're headed north, I'll go with you," Nicholas offered, his charming smile firmly fixed.

"I am, actually," Melanie admitted. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, staring up into his warm green eyes. Mimicking her, Nicholas swept a hand through his own short, dark blond hair. The corners of his mouth turned white as the smile widened on his pale face.

"I will join you," A smooth, tenor voice murmured.

Melanie lifted her eyes to find Avery's cool blue eyes trained warily on Nicholas, who shrugged nonchalantly and offered the girl his arm. Warning bells clamored in Melanie's skull again as she rested her hand lightly on the enticer's forearm. Avery's lips pressed together in a nearly-invisible line.

Within Melanie, reason argued with a growing sense of calm. She was street smart and a student of criminal justice; she knew better than to walk away with unknown companions, especially a smooth talker like Nicholas. The calm won over, and Melanie let a smile steal over her features.

Nicholas and Avery were harmless, right?

Wrong.

Melanie's instincts, screaming like the dumb blonde in a horror movie, finally overrode the permeating sense of security. She blinked, a haze clearing from her eyes. She found herself staring straight into Avery's intense gaze, thrilled and chilled. As a deep, shuddering breath refilled her lungs, something like relief broke through the brunet's mask for a fraction of a second. Nicholas was glaring at his companion with open hatred and anger.

"I think I'm just gonna walk alone. Thanks anyway." Melanie excused herself, slipped quickly from the heart of the showdown.

Slipping out the door, she glanced back. Avery's eyes found hers for a moment and held, stormy and cold. Melanie's breath shuddered again. She shut the door and turned, walking away rapidly.

Even as her aunt buzzed her into the apartment complex five blocks away, Melanie could see Nicholas in her mind's eye.

He was gorgeous. He was a mystery. On the other hand, his companion was an asshole.

Melanie was intrigued. Part of her hoped desperately that she would see him again--without Avery.