lethal | hs

/06/

~~*~~
'Hot Shot'

I feel like an absolute dick going up to her house. Niall gave me the address of the place and I was already over there, so I figured that I'd swing by and try to get the necklace. It was only my surprise that her brother let me in, but I'm not mad about that. The kid wasn't half bad, but I'm starting to get a little annoyed with his sister.

Not even a few minutes ago I left her house. The place as a whole is much nicer than anything I've ever seen, but it's no surprise that the East side of town's rich. Just about every house looks the exact same and they're all barely furnished to fit some sort of minimalistic design. I liked the place, but Christ, those fucking stairs. Three flights of stairs just to get to that main loft area might just have been the death of me. Nobody will ever catch me doing that again, trust me.

I sit up in the driver's seat of my car, taking my hand off of the center console. As I continue to drive, I reach into the inside compartment, taking out a lighter with one hand and driving with the other. I hold the lighter in my mouth as I reach for the cheap cigarette pack I bought a few days ago, struggling to open it up and take out a singular stick. I use my knee to turn the steering wheel as I light the cigarette, waiting for the end to turn a cherry color before sliding it between the gap in my lips.

I turn up whatever rock song's playing on the radio, humming to the tune as I puff the smoke out of my open window. Rock music is my favorite, but primarily old rock. I don't understand why people don't like it, considering half the music they listen to is shit.

The music doesn't distract me for long until I'm back thinking about my destination. If it were any other regular night I'd be off to Serpent's Den or back at my house trying to sleep, and believe me, I feel like falling asleep. But tonight I'm meeting some others on the East side, furthest from where I'm coming from. We've got to steal some kind of Bentley for this guy up in Utah, and no matter how badly I want to sleep, I think that the money's my motivation. An hour less of sleep for 40 grand, count me in.

I park the car when I come up to some four story house- I bet the stairs are dreadful inside here, too.

I shake my head at the thought before turning the radio back down to a barely audible noise as the guitar solo plays. Outside are dozens of cars, signifying that a party's going on inside. The Scarlets have ones like these all the time and I don't blame them. If I had that much wine and enough money for fancy suits, I'd be doing the exact same thing- celebrating.

Too bad someone's getting unlucky tonight. I'm stealing their car.

I push my seat back to give myself more leg room, taking another inhale of the cigarette. I stick it back in between my lips as I pull my coat off of my shoulders, tossing it into the back seat. I reach behind my neck, pulling off my shirt next and exchanging it for a different one in the back. My back flexes as I put my arms through each loop, and even more so when I reach down to change my pants. I may be an idiot for stealing cars, but I'm not going to get caught in an outfit that they know I'd wear.

I finish off what's left of the cigarette before flicking it out of my window, opening the door and crushing it with the bottom of my shoe.

I stand up from the small car, grabbing the necklace out of one of the cup holders. I close the door behind me as I stare down at the piece. The diamonds themselves look exactly like how I remember making them, and I'm honestly surprised Molly managed to keep them in such good condition. I run my finger across the blades tucked on the back of each blazing diamond, feeling a poke to my finger as I do so.

I wonder if she ever used this thing the way it was intended to be used. I can't picture her doing that, but I sure want to. If anything, I'm just glad to have it back.