𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝒃.𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

CHAPTER THREE

Money,Money,Money:; ABBA

'Money,Money,Money, must be funny in a rich mans world.'

Barrette Beets, A German woman running a front of 'bars' across the country. From Manhattan, New York to Las Vegas,Nevada.Infamous for her underground business of selling stolen artefacts. I sigh as I walk into the bar immediately preparing myself for the consequences this is ought to bring. It's barely changed, I think to myself. I analyse the same wooden stools and birch bar. Fake ivy hanging from the ceiling. I still remember the day it was hung, Barrette said it makes the place look 'innocent'. I agreed with her then before I knew the chaos that the bar was facing. I walk over to the bar, it's pretty much deserted other than a few regular drunks who are sat drinking in the corner.

"Hey there, is Barrette around." I asked the bar woman. I notice that she stares at me. Looking at my doc martens, my pin stripe trousers and the black library top I'm still wearing. Her gaze moves to my face.I can feel my light freckles burn under her gaze. I hold my composure, wanting nothing more than to call her out on her scrutiny. "Why do you want to see Barrette?" the barwoman eventually replies.Her tone leaking with rudeness and dismissal. I feel my eyebrows furrow at the sudden interrogation. It's now my turn to stare this woman down as my blue eyes read her appearance. If there's one thing the red room taught me it was how to analyse a person correctly, without them noticing your doing it. I subtly take note of her body language. She's threatened this is a mere front, probably something she's been programmed to ask. "I'm just an old friend, Is she about?" I smiled falsely. Wanting nothing more than to have a normal life, and to not be stood here at 9:30 on a Wednesday morning.

"I'll go see if she's free." The barwoman rolls her eyes and slacks off to the back. As I'm stood here waiting I look out of the window noticing a car 'delivery' service that's outside. I take note of a man sitting in the corner reading a paper, a baseball cap and sunglasses on. Nothing but a black coffee in front of him.Strange. Normally people find cafes not bars. I notice the man glance at me. He was blonde, he had blue eyes and sat abnormally straight. He was oddly recognisable.I just couldn't place where I'd seen him before.

"Well, Well, well" a voice interrupts my train of thought. I glance upwards and see a woman of 5'3, 5'7 because of the pink four inch stilettos she's wearing. Her face has had lots of work done and her hair is bleach blonde with a singular pink streak in her bangs. Barrette beets stands in front of me, she's looking like the front woman for the colour pink. "Hello Barrette, long time no see." I replied. "Follow me, mouse." The flamingo-like woman says as she leads me down a dimly lit corridor.

Mouse is a nickname I was given the first time I entered this line of work. It had been months since I'd called it.

"So" Barrett says as she guides me into her office and sits down at her desk, her arms gesturing to me to take the seat opposite of hers. "What are you doing here, I thought you were done with this type of work, or at least that's what you screamed at me when you stomped out of here a couple months ago." I sighed the memories of our arguments filling my head.

Six months back I got this job near enough straight after I escaped the red room. It was the only one I'd been able to acquire that hadn't needed 'background information.' It was great at first. I was only a barmaid. I did my job well. In fact a little too well. 3 months ago Barrette noticed some sort of 'criminal potential in me.' and I'd been introduced to the businesses other side. I started stealing for her. Cars, Antiques, anything I'd be told to get. Given my prior 'work experience' I was given the nickname mouse. I got told I was 'quiet and quick at my job' The pay was good, great in fact. Then one day something inside of me snapped. I realised I started doing something I'd promised myself I'd never do again. Lose myself to a job of bad nature. I quit the following week.

"Well fortunately for you Barrette my line of work interest has resurfaced to barmaidery. I want my job back. Not the stealing part. I want to work shifts at the bar." I confidently say. "Isn't this just amusing, you come here asking for your job back. But it's not even the one we both know deep down you were meant to do." The older woman snickers at me. "Oh thea you can have your job back." she starts. "Thank you" I replied, however i'm then cut off. " uh uh uh not so fast, Thea if im doing something for you. You've gotta do something for me."

"I said I'm not stealing again." I stand my ground. "I didn't say anything about stealing, sweetie.I need you to deliver a message for me." She pulls out an envelope. I stare at her movement, surprised at the simplicity of the task i've been given. "Just a message?" I ask.

"Deliver this envelope to the address on the front and we have a deal, you will get your job back. And i'll even double your pay." she says. I nod not seeing the hard in the task ahead.

"Okay fine, i'll do it today." I reach for the envelope that's being handed to me and walk out of the office and out of the bar. I look at the address.

                                                200 Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York

                                                              Anthony Edward Stark.