Daylight

TWENTY TWO

Elizabeth...

I stepped out of the car with Charles. It was vallay parking so the drive way would keep bringing in cars. It was efficient.

I looked down at my dress and groaned. I liked it a lot, and I felt bad that I would get blood stains on it. At least my makeup would still be cute.

I walked up the stairs to the entrance of the building. My hand itched to grab his, but I kept my composure. I couldn't let him know I was getting nervous now! I had to make sure I did my job.

As soon as we entered the foyer, Charles leaned down and whispred to me that he was going to go check out the outside area of the event house. I nodded and continued to walk into the house, looking for the bathroom.

I didn't know who was hosting this year's party, it didn't really matter to me, but I wondered if Charles needed that information. I looked around to find someone who would look like a host, and my eyes set on an old fat man with a funny mustache and slicked back hair. I kept him in mind and stayed away from the left side of the building, just to avoid interaction.

Hosts usually tend to introduce their guests and guide them, If not announcing their arrival. I didn't want anyone besides Vic knowing I was there. Not yet anyways, I had to get my inner actress out.

I walked over the bar and sat down on one of the stools. The bartender there gave me a weird look.

"Oh, just a water please," I said, smiling gently. I hoped it would ease the grimace on his face.

"We don't have anything non alcoholic here." He said.

"Well then give me the closest thing that looks like water!" I snapped in a whisper. He rolled his eyes and got out a glass cup and started to pour vodka into it.

"Don't drink it." He said, "It's too strong."

"You know what, just pour me a shot."

"Who are you here with?" He asked with a tone of a Karen asking for some kid's mom.

He adjusted his red tie that matched with his red vest. His outfit matched the color scheme with the host standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the party.

"I'm with Mr. Russo, so please, just hand over the glass." I tried telling him, but he wouldn't budge.

"Can I see a license?"

"I don't have mine one me right now. Would you like me to get Vic over here?"

"20 bucks."

"Fine!" I said, and pulled out two tens from my little purse I carried. I was surprised security passed the foyer didn't notice the makeup essentials with hidden blades.

It also wasn't common for guests attending the event to bring money either. It wasn't banned, but it was suggested not to, to ease suspicion. It made sense I guess.

He handed me the glass and I took a breath before downing it quickly. My throat felt fresh and cold, like I could feel everything when I breathed.

I didn't say anything to him after, knowing my throat would cause me to sound a little weird. I cleared my throat and left. I walked around the full room, seeing people of different races and ethnicities.

I saw some Spanish people, and a well known woman--or wife I think--of a Spanish drug lord. She had a beautiful rosy gold dress and her blonde hair was put up in an elegant bun. She held a glass of champagne in her hand that complimented everything about her.

I bet she was his latest, and the youngest so far. The importer was known to have a new wife every couple months or so, taken from a neighboring sex trafficing ring. His entire deal with his wives was a rumor a couple years ago. I remembered Vic telling me to try and scare me, so that I wouldn't interfere with his way of doing things.