The Heist

part eight

Lauren sips her Heineken, a cigarette lit between her fingertips. She swallows down the beer before taking a puff, staring up at the beautiful blue sky. She wishes that she could sit there forever, just taking in the simplicity of the beautiful day. She puts the bottle up to her lips, taking a quick swig of the beer. She wipes her mouth, smudging a little bit of her red lipstick.

The back door opens, the darker girl walking out to the patio. She sits on Lauren's lap, leaning back into the younger girl. The paler girl kisses her neck lightly, her nose rubbing against her smooth skin.

"Hi Lo," Normani whispers softly, gazing up at the sky.

"Hey Mani," Lauren greets. "How'd the funeral go?"

"I threatened my parents," She says proudly. "I almost got punched by Keith. Same old angry family greeting."

"You gonna kill your parents too?"

The darker girl contemplates this, tapping her chin and cocking her head to the side. She grins evilly, nodding her head. The younger girl lets out a low chuckle.

"You're killing everybody lately," She laughs.

"Everyone is pissing me off lately," Normani giggles. "Will you come with me for this one?"

"I have a job baby," Lauren apologizes, littering her neck with kisses. "I'll make it up to you lately."

"How?" The darker girl presses.

"You know how," The Latina husks, her hands dangerously close to her center. Normani shivers and stands up, turning around to kiss Lauren. She grips the armrests on the chair, biting down on Lauren's bottom lip. The younger girl groans as she pulls away, her gaze fluttering down to Normani's plump lips.

"I want to fuck you so badly," Lauren groans. "Right here, across my lap."

"Too bad baby," Normani teases. "You have a job to do and I have family to kill."

"You're so sexy when you're plotting," The Latina complements, watching as the darker girl left the patio.

"Better hope I never plot against you,"

Normani loves killing people in broad daylight. She likes seeing her victims' faces clearly when she strangles, stabs, or shoots them. It's a rush, and it makes her skin tingle.

She kicks the door open to her parents' house, listening to the TV switch off. She hears the hurried movements of her parents, and she smirks.

"I'm home," Normani taunts, leaning against the wall and getting a better view of her parents.

She chuckles when she sees that her father is holding a gun, smirking.

"You don't know how to use that," The darker girl cackles, twirling her on gun between her fingers. Her father is shaking, his eyes showing nothing but fear.

"You shouldn't let your enemies see what you're feeling," The older girl advises. "If you kill someone, leave your expression blank. Or enjoy it, like I do." She takes slow, menacing steps towards her parents, the gun frozen in her hands.

"S-Step back," Derrick stammers, his voice low. "I'll shoot."

"You shouldn't let your enemies hear what you're feeling either," Normani scolds. "I shouldn't know how weak and frightened you are, but I do. It's a shame, really, that my own parents are scared of me."

"You're a cold blooded serial killer!" Andrea squeaks.

"Did I say you could speak bitch?" The brunette barks. Her mother cowers, shrinking back behind her father. "That's what I thought."