Killer || m.g.c

0.8

Bonnie Jackson.

My hair is red. It's poofy and bright and just red. Kayla was busy tying and twisting it, standing behind me as she danced to the music and mouthed all the words. She stopped after a second and smiled.

"Just realised you're still naked." She chuckled before continuing her tying. I blushed and pulled the towel tighter around my body, glancing down to make sure everything was covered.

I watched her work through the reflection in the mirror, becoming hypnotised by the way she twirled and tied.

"How'd you get so good with hair?" I asked curiously. She smiled, as if remembering an old memory before glancing at me in the reflection, looking back down afterwards.

"When you're around the sort of people I am," she paused for a second, putting the comb in her mouth as she added a few bobby pins. Then she put it on the bench and grabbed a black and white - but mostly black - bandana from her back pocket. She wrapped it around my head and spoke again as she tied it in a bow to the side. "You learn how to disguise yourself quickly."

She moved away after this so I could see what she'd done. It was a tied back braid which I could have never done, paired with loose strands at the front and the bandana to complete it. I felt as if it was some sort of 60's rebel look.

"It looks amazing." I said in complete admiration. I stopped prodding at the braid. "How'd you even get involved with this sort of business?" I asked.

"Helped an ex smuggle a few kilos of weed into Indonesia." She said solemnly. "We took separate flights so if one got caught there was a back up plan. He got caught and I lied my way out of an arrest. Two months later, got home from work to find some guy in my living room. He told me he could use someone like me to help with his business. And voilà," she smiled brightly at me. "Here I am!"

"Sounds shitty." I said truthfully. She shrugged her shoulders, turning around to grab some things out of a little bag I didn't realise she'd brought in.

When she turned around again, she held out a concealer, bronzer, blush and lipstick.

"Jesus," I exclaimed. "I gotta wear all that?"

"Lip and blush are optional but the other stuff, yeah."

"I don't even know what to do with that." I sighed.

"That's why I'm here." Kayla smiled, pulling out some brushes. "Now shut up and prepare yourself."

>>

The first thing Michael did when I exited the bathroom was complain about how long I'd taken. But as I rounded the corner, his attitude changed as he saw me.

"Holy shit," he sighed as he took in my new look. "You look good." I blushed at his comment, turning on the spot to show my new outfit that Kayla had put together.

Fake leather jeans clung to my legs, giving me what Kayla called 'an ass worth twerking.' My shirt was a white singlet which was designed to show side-boob. It had some band I didn't know's logo in a black out line on the front. I wore a black lacy halter underneath which could be seen from the side of the shirt. I wore some black combat boots to complete the look.

Kayla had outdone herself with the make up. While I still resembled me, I looked very different. My cheek bones had been exaggerated, now looking higher and more prominent. My jaw line was much stronger and eyes seemed much bigger. She'd tinted my lips a little to a point at which they looked natural. I had black eyeliner as well, but no cats eye to keep it simple.

"Kayla, you proud? Cause you should be." Michael said with a smile, walking over and high fiving her. She chuckled and crossed her arms.

"I did well." she congratulated herself.

"You did." I agreed, now noticing that Michael's mates had left. I watched as Michael leant back and grabbed a jacket off the couch and put it on.

"You ready?" He asked. I raised an eye brow in confusion.

"For what?" I questioned.

"We're gonna go get some info from some people." He said, now holding the door open. I stood still, staring at Michael.

"What people?"

"People who know who's coming after you." I followed him after he said that, right out to his car. I got in the passenger seat and we were off.

I didn't say anything and neither did he. I just watched out the window as cars sped by our own and buildings flashed momentarily before being behind me.

"Love this song." Michael said gruffly, turning up the radio as Eye of the Tiger blasted from the speakers. He hit the steering wheel hard in time with the song before bursting out singing as it did in the song.

He kept glancing at me from the corner of his eyes as he yelled the words. I couldn't help the smile that forced its way to my lips as he wiggled around in his car seat as if to dance. When the chorus hit, I yelled the words passionately along side him. As the chorus ended, I realised what I was doing. My smile dropped and I turned off the radio. Michael pouted at me.

"C'mon sweet heart, what's wrong?" He said.

"Don't call me that." I spat. "I'm supposed to hate you, not have karaoke sessions in the car."

"Can't you do both?" He pushed. When I glared, he held a hand up in defence. "Just saying!"

"You've made me change so much about myself, things I didn't want to change. I don't like you and I don't need to get along with you."

"Jesus, I get it, ok? I've killed, it's scary, I'm scary, I freakin' get it! Can you just fucking chill for a bit so I can help you? Cause that's what I'm doing here. Helping you because if I don't, you'll die." I was silent after that, no words coming to mind for me to say. How could I respond to that?

"We're here, get out." Michael spat, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut behind him.