❦ A Harley riding, vodka drinking, female killer, a Scottish bartender, a kindergarten teacher, several kids, and a huge Italian 'family', put them all in a bag and shake well.
Throw the contents onto paper and you end up with a book about broken sp...
She patiently waits in the shadows of the alley, until he is close enough. Her leather gloves, pants, and jacket give her all the camouflage she needs. The bracelet, that was sitting snug around her wrist, gets pulled off in one quick move, the moonlight reflecting on the razor-sharp blade.
She steps out of the shadows and slits his throat, without hesitation.
He collapses and she crouches down next to him. Looking into his eyes with her hand around his wrist, feeling his pulse fade. She wipes the blade clean with a piece of cloth the second she's sure he will never wake up again.
She throws the rag on the ground and clicks the blade back into the bracelet. The silver scorpion sits around her wrist, the blade perfectly hidden inside of it. Taking long strides out of the alley, she swings her leg over the matte black Harley to sit down on it. She pushes the helmet over her short, dark hair and starts the engine.
After a short ride, she stops at a small cafe, gets off the bike, and walks in. She lays the helmet down on the bar and takes her gloves off. Her dark red nails tap on the wood, while she waits for her drink.
The bartender grabs the bottle of Scorpion Vodka and fills a glass with a good amount of the clear fluid. He sets the glass down in front of her and she looks him in the eye for a second, before downing the drink.
She nods at the bartender, puts her gloves back on, and walks out.
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He saw her come in, the mysterious woman in her leather outfit. She visits the cafe irregularly, late at night, and always drinks one double Scorpion Vodka. She never speaks. He only heard her voice the first time she came in a few years ago. He remembers the conversation as if it was yesterday.
"Good evening, what can I get you?"
She looked him in the eye with her dark brown eyes and spoke with a slightly hoarse voice. "Got any Scorpion Vodka?" He nodded and she said: "Good. A double, please. And from now on you'll pour me one when I walk in. We don't talk, I drink the vodka and take my leave. Thanks."
He was so shocked that he silently nodded and poured the vodka.
She held onto the glass firmly with her slim hand and her dark red nails. She tossed the drink back, put her gloves back on, grabbed her helmet, and after a small nod, she walked out. And nothing has changed in the years she's been coming here.
He knows that she doesn't want to talk, but he would love to learn more about her. But the main reason his cafe still exists is because of the simple fact that he doesn't ask unnecessary questions. He has a very colorful clientele and some of them have an aura that gives him the creeps. But they all pay well and there's never trouble or fighting inside the cafe.
He stocks a huge collection of exotic drinks because his customers drink the weirdest things. His liquor supplier gave him the bottle of Scorpion Vodka. The guy told him to put the bottle somewhere in sight, because it would suit his customers.
At the bottom of the bottle sits a little scorpion and he always looks forward to the day that the last drop gets poured out of the bottle.
She will come in, lean on the bar, and shake the scorpion from the bottle. While she makes eye contact with the other customers, she eats it.
At that moment you can hear a pin drop in the normally noisy cafe.
She pays for her drinks of the past month and leaves without saying a word.
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You can find a new and improved version of this chapter on my profile and on the link below. (it might be clickable in the comment on the link)
