A world of second chances. A woman who can't remember why she needs one.
What could go wrong?
Chalala Soria has faced death already, and now she is facing eternity stuck in Freta with Xalei, a bunny-like creature she can't stand. The only way to e...
My yellow eyes pierced back at me in the mirror, checking my appearance. I couldn't help but smirk at the reflection staring back at me. I inserted black gauges into my ears, wearing my confident grin. Slipping on my black gloves, I adjusted my white vest over my faded purple smock. Its sleeves ended onto my elbows, giving it a tidy appearance. A lone white strand of hair draped over my dark purple bangs, making it a look that exuded power and control.
Gripping over the sides of the sink, I leaned into my reflection more. "Xalei Mirthwillow. You are one handsome devil, aren't you?"
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I chuckled to myself as I backed away from the sink. My appearance was everything with my job. It charmed the pants off anyone. I took one last look at myself before I headed out the door.
It's time to put on a good show.
Every day of my life in the city was like this. Just the other day, I made a man have difficulty seeing through my motives. The poor sap thought the watch I sold him was a priceless antique. I told him it was worth thousands of dollars––when really––it was worth only five bucks.
Naw, I didn't sell it to him for that much. I gave him half-price, after all! Five hundred smackers! Don't call me a thief, though. These people willingly gave me their money. Swiping things under people's noses never was my thing. The other day, I saw a poor lady leave her smartphone at a restaurant table. Two girls snatched it, claiming it for themselves. Bad taste.
Me? I'm not like them, though. That guy was just another one of my many happy customers.
As I thought about the sucker, I strolled through the city streets, keeping my eyes peeled for the next victim. That tall guy over there? Nah. He looked smart.
What about that couple? Hmm...Nah. They seemed too caught up in their argument. Dealing with foul clients wasn't my thing. I could tell they weren't wealthy in the slightest.
What do we want? We want dumb and wealthy today. Not smart. Hey, they could afford to lose a little cash, and I could afford to live. Sure, I had fooled people who weren't as wealthy, but when days were slow, I had no choice but to.
You see, I was easy at reading people. It was what I do best. It was a gift, really––the gift of gab. I knew how to see who was a sap, how to get them to trust me, and how to get what I wanted.
Within the crowd, I blended in seamlessly. As I continued to walk, I scanned for more faces, looking for signs of vulnerability. No dice.
Turning the corner, I spotted a young woman with a caked-up face walking alone. Her designer glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She wore a tailored dress made of the finest Italian wool. It had a deep blue hue accentuating her porcelain skin.
Her head hung low, lost in thought.
Vulnerability spotted. Bingo.
I approached her, feigning concern. "Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?"
The rich lady looked up, startled. "Oh, yes. I'm quite fine."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Because I questioned her, she laid it all on me, pouring her heart. I made sympathetic noises and offered words of comfort, all the while sizing her up for an angle to exploit. We ended up sitting together in a nearby coffee shop.
Not yet.
"So the guy broke your heart? A pretty face like yours is very hard to come by." I leaned closer, letting her eyes study me. Good. My charm struck again.
It didn't take much for women to fall for me. Sometimes, I pretended to be in love or interested. This one was just another one to add to my list.
Turned out, this lady here was a businesswoman. Due to her recent heartbreak, I had to take it really slow. A pain. Sometimes, women just throw the money at me. Regardless of how much time it took, I used it to my advantage.
I didn't believe in love, anyway. Didn't have time for that. Time was money, after all. So, the weeks flew by and we went out on dates frequently. I showered her with compliments. I pretended to share the same interests as she did. I told her I was a wealthy entrepreneur with business interests all over the world.
Like the other women, our relationship progressed, and I started to make requests for money.
Taking her hands in mine, I released the fakest tears I could manage, giving her a sob story. "I'm on the run from a dangerous person and I need the money to escape."
"What? Oh, darling." Her hands trembled in mine. Seeing her upset for my sake didn't tug any heartstrings. If I were some poor schmoe, she wouldn't give me the time of day. Sweet talker or not.
"What should we do? Who is it?" In an attempt to "comfort" me, she hugged me.
My forced tears soaked her shoulder. I feigned a panic attack. Wheezing and coughing, I made my body tremble.
I should win an Oscar for my acting.
Eventually, I stared into her eyes with my teary ones, cupping her face. "They threatened your life, my dear. I need to do this for you. To protect you. Us."
All bullcrap. Lies. It worked every time.
I'd get the money and disappear off the radar. How?
Well, who said I gave her my real name and identity? I was done with her. It was time for new clients. She was getting boring to me.
